Out of Uniform (Wingmen Warriors 14)

And the only one who could help her fill it was a man with shadows in his eyes that sent fresh shivers along her freezing skin.

Chapter 2

M ore contradictions. Jacob watched the woman stumble back into the hazy storm. She leaned her body weight into dragging the door closed.

Once he’d seen those tear-filled eyes, he expected a sob story and an eyelash-fluttering plea for help. Instead she’d braced her spine so rigidly, even the fifty-mile-an-hour gusts outside couldn’t have knocked her over. Prideful without question.

The clothes relayed one image, her frail body another, and that haughty Midwestern voice, yet another. His gaze traveled over the woman. Around thirty, medium height. Whispery brown hair trailed her, riding the wind and revealing delicate cheekbones to match those dainty wrists and ankles. Her fresh, heart-shaped face might as well have home fires and bridge club tattooed across her forehead. He could almost smell the cookies baking through the plate-glass window.

She wouldn’t be making cookies anytime soon if she froze to death wearing that neon number.

Who the hell was she? And why did he care?

So her scum boyfriend had ditched her in a hotel, leaving her stranded. It wasn’t Jacob’s problem. She hadn’t even asked for his help. He’d helped her anyway by extending her checkout time until the phones were working again and she could call a friend to pick her up. Problem solved.

Jacob reached for his remote and began easing himself into his chair, which offered him a too-perfect view of the woman collapsing on the top step.

He’d already started toward the door when she jerked upright. She gripped the railing and began heaving onto the snowbank beside her.

Aw, hell. Jacob shrugged out of his sling and into a coat with a wince, grabbing an extra jacket for her. He wrenched open the door. Cold air in front and warmed air on his back vise-locked him until he jerked the door closed. He lowered himself beside her and waited.

Slowly she straightened and grappled in her pocket, pulling free a tissue.

He draped the extra coat over her stockinged legs. “You okay?”

She nodded, dabbing the wadded Kleenex along her mouth like his grandma used to do after a cup of tea. “Thank you. I’ll be all right in a minute.”

Jacob stared down the endless length of the two-lane highway. A familiar truck droned closer, a plow wedge on front. Just like any other day here. Except for the woman beside him. “I’m not so sure I agree. Seems like you have a problem Ms…. What was your name again?”

Her fingers fluttered to her necklace, the D glinting. She frowned. Her face cleared as her hand fell to her lap. “Dee. Dee Smith.”

“Smith, huh?”

“Yes, Smith.”

Let her keep her little secrets. Maybe she didn’t want her indiscretion to become public knowledge. “I don’t mean to pry, but it’s fairly obvious you’re stranded. Is there someone I can call to give you a ride?”

“There’s no one.”

That stunk. He remembered the feeling from when he was a kid with a dad who didn’t give a crap. Now he had people he could call on 24/7 anywhere, anytime. He could give a shout out to any of his Air Force friends stationed back at Charleston Air Force base in South Carolina. He even had some closer who’d transferred to the C-17 base in Tacoma.

He didn’t take that sense of family for granted, not for one second.

Dee slid her hands under the coat. “If you really meant it about staying in the room another few hours, I’ll just rest, then call a cab when the phones are up and working.”

“No cab’s going to come from Tacoma to this microdot on the map, especially not in this weather. It’s dicey if the roads will even stay open much longer.”

What would she do now to dodge telling him her real story? Playing mind games with each other could be fun, if she didn’t have that bleak expression plastered across her face.

He sat beside her and waited. He was patient and thrived on puzzles, like putting the pieces together in an engine so things worked right again. Restoring order, even to a car, had given him a sense of control as a teen stuck in a chaotic home.

The rust-rimmed truck on the highway slowed and swerved into the parking lot. It bounced along the rutted ice, plowing with methodical sweeps. His ear tuned to listen for any warning noises from the engine, but the hum sounded a helluva lot better now thanks to his tune-up last weekend. Installing the new battery one-handed had been a challenge, but he’d enjoyed the familiar scents, routine, being able to fix something in his hay-wire world. Apparently not much had changed since he’d left.

Dee pointed to the teenage driver. “What about her?”

With each quick turn of the Ford 250, the girl’s ponytail bobbed just above her parka.