Hearing the way she sobbed for Daddy.
I exhale shakily into the car’s interior.
I’ve been trained to be patient. Sometimes it takes days, weeks or months for a target to appear. To step into my sites. But Lula isn’t a target and this isn’t war. She’s a female. The most important one. And her feelings are what I have to aim for. She thinks I need time. That I’m making a hasty decision to be with her, when that’s simply not the case.
Like I said, I’ve done and seen a lot in my lifetime. I know brightness like hers isn’t just available everywhere, especially for a weary soldier like me. It’s unique and perfect. Like walking through a sandstorm and finding shelter. During my service, I saw the worst of humanity. Enough to know when I’ve come across the best—and I’m holding on to her.
Come hell or high water.
But apparently she’s going to need…courting. Some convincing.
Since I can’t take her out on a date in a stolen vehicle, I ditch the car in the airport parking lot and rent a luxury sedan. My plan is to buy a permanent car at a dealership near Coronado when I’m getting settled on base. For now, a rental will have to suffice. My instinct is to find something black, but I think of Lula’s brightly colored energy, the lively pink and yellow fuzzy towels in the bathroom. Her aqua sandals on the shoe rack by the front door of the house. With that information, I go with a cerulean blue Jaguar and head toward the house.
When I walk into the kitchen, my father lowers his newspaper. “Well there you are, son. If I wasn’t positive you can take care of yourself, I would have been worried.”
Vanessa breezes into the kitchen with a clinking glass of iced tea in her hand. “I’m sure we can guess how a red-blooded man spent one of his first nights back on US soil…” She winks at me, stirring the drink with her index finger. “I’ll forgive you for not letting me fix you up. Maybe it’s better you went out and blew off a little steam first.”
“Always with the innuendo, Vanessa,” my father grouches, going back to the paper.
“You knew what you were getting into when we started dating,” she laughs.
Lula walks into the room and my senses are turned up to full wattage. I have to shove my hands into my pockets so I won’t reach for her, settle her butt somewhere, wedge myself between her thighs. Jesus, she looks edible. The camping trip has been showered away leaving behind tan lines that peek out from beneath the straps of her purple tank top. She’s barefoot, wearing these tight yoga pants that make her backside look like a meal and I have to grind my jaw to keep from growling.
Her eyes go soft when they see me, but then awareness moves into them.
Heat.
Curiosity, too.
As if she’s wondering whether or not my intentions have changed overnight. They haven’t. They’re never going to change. And I try to communicate that to her with my eyes. I must get at least some of my point across, because she crosses quickly to the fridge and stands in the cool opening, fanning her neck.
“How was camping?” Vanessa asks Lula, trading an eye roll with my father.
“Oh, um…” Lula’s throat works, her gaze drifting to mine briefly. “Beautiful. Peaceful. A family of deer walked right through our campsite this morning.”
“Wow,” Vanessa says, absently, reading the newspaper over her husband’s shoulder.
I wait for them to ask her more, but they don’t.
They don’t encourage her. Their mild interest isn’t even convincing.
Yeah, I need to get her moved out of his toxic environment as soon as possible. I grew up in it. The pressure to conform, to be a certain way—like my father—is immense. Having offbeat interests, like Lula, has made her a target for their disdain at the worst of times, indifference at the best. There is no way in hell I’m going to let them dim the light shining inside of her.
Not happening.
“I was thinking we could do something together tonight, Lula,” I say into the quiet kitchen, an even heavier silence ensuing. She straightens from the fridge, a glass of orange juice in her hand, eyes wide on me. “Get to know each other better. Since we’re family now.”
“O-oh,” she breathes. Then, comically, downs the entire glass of juice, because she obviously doesn’t know what to say. It takes an effort not to laugh. “I would like—”
“Are you sure, Vale?” Vanessa gives a skeptical laugh. “I have a network of beauties on speed dial—”
“Vanessa, I don’t know how many ways I can say that I’m not interested,” I growl, holding my stepmother’s startled attention for several beats, irritation making my fingers flex. “Do not bring it up again.”