Wargasm Page 3

“You can protest all you want…” He winked. “But a pretty thing like you? You’re just begging to be invaded.”

  “I don’t want to be pulling shrapnel out of my bed tomorrow morning.”

  “Just wait till you see the caliber of my rifle.”

  I baited him with a downward glance. “It’s probably no more than a pistol.”

  “Sweetness, I’m packing a cannon.”

  That I could believe. Marius was a walking, talking, flirting mass of muscle. Man enough for two men, and yet the wrong man for me.

  So why was my mouth watering?

  “I got a feeling this battle would be over quick,” I said, attempting to push away from the truck.

  Marius didn’t let me leave.

  I should’ve called for backup. Should have retreated.

  Instead, I faced the insurgency with little more than a smirk.

  “You better start digging those trenches, baby girl. Prepare yourself for a long deployment.”

  “And you should radio back to base,” I said. “There’s no way you’re getting close to this foxhole.”

  “You’re a terrible liar.”

  “Can’t believe I wouldn’t be interested in someone so rude, vulgar, and...” I raised my chin. “Ungentlemanly?”

  “No. I can’t believe a girl like you is gonna act insulted.”

  “What you mean a girl like me?”

  “A girl who’s looking for a man to rip off that hideous dress, pin your ankles behind your head, and not leave the bed until the mission is accomplished.”

  He was right.

  He didn’t have to know it.

  I wagged a finger at him. “I don’t know how they did things in the military, but I’m a respectable sort of girl. Not a one-night stand.”

  “We could go for two, three nights,” Marius said. “I got nowhere to be.”

  “What can I say? I guess I’m not interested in your type of seaman.”

  “Nor am I. one of the few reasons I’m glad to be out.”

  Cute. At least he was cute. “I’m looking for the real deal. Fairytales. Romance. Not a fumbling grope in a hotel room.”

  Marius didn’t blink. Was it confidence or arrogance? “I don’t fumble. I fuck. And I get the job done.”

  I grinned. “Then it’s a good thing you lost a leg and not your faithful hand.” I blew him a kiss. “Welcome home, hero. I’ll make sure everyone knows you can park wherever you want…except my bed.”

  I gathered my skirts, fighting with the petticoat as I turned to storm away.

  And, of course, Ambrose picked that exact moment to regain his obedience. The border collie proudly trotted directly to Marius. The bra dropped at his feet. My stomach went with it.

  Marius grabbed the bra before I could dive for it. He lifted it, glanced at me, and patted Ambrose’s head. The damn dog barked.

  “Good boy.” He swung the bra around his finger. “Just what I was looking for.”

  I stiffened, Marius didn’t offer it back. He opened his truck door and leaned inside. A handicap placard was tucked against the console, but he crumpled it and tossed it into my hands. In its place, he hung the bra, proudly displayed on his rearview mirror.

  “There.” He admired his handiwork. “Now I accept your apology.”

  He slammed the door to his truck and locked it. With a wink, and hardly a limp, he pushed passed me and headed towards the hardware store.

  So, that’s how we were going to play this? “Welcome back, Marius Payne. I hope I never see you again.”

  “Don’t worry, sweetness.” He waved a lazy hand but didn’t look back. “You’ll be thinking about me tonight.”

  Damn it.

  It wasn’t just that he was right. It was how right he was.

  This was not how it was supposed to happen.

  I hadn’t waited my entire life to meet that one special man only to have him steal my underwear and insult me in the same breath.

  Cupid got it wrong. The fates had their wires crossed. The stars had collided then aimed for my forehead.

  I was not going to fall in love with Marius Payne.

  …But a little crush never hurt anyone.

  2

  Marius

  Six months ago, I was crawling through the mud on a top-secret mission, rifle in my hand, both legs attached to my body.

  Today? I stayed face down in the dirt. Only this time, I attempted a one-armed, one-legged push-up while struggling to get a glorified meter maid out of my head.

  The mighty hadn’t just fallen. I’d exploded. But I was goddamned lucky to make it out alive.

  Now if I could only make it out of Butterpond in one piece.

  Especially now that I’d found a pretty reason to stay.

  The doctor said only to exercise if I felt comfortable. That was the difference between me and the doc. I didn’t work out to feel comfortable. I did it to get back to work. Nothing good came without pain. That included war, work, and women.

  And family.

  I’d escaped the house to do my exercises. Thought the backyard would shield me from an audience. But I’d doubted the tenacity of my family. Been gone for too long. Forgot I’d come from a long line of assholes.

  Varius was the best company a man could hope for, given the circumstances. My younger brother kept to himself these days. No more weddings, no more funerals, no more Sunday ministry. I wasn’t around for the storm that had ruined his life, but at least bad luck had only taken my leg. His had damned his soul.

  Didn’t like finding someone more lost than I was. Liked it even less when it was one of my brothers. Especially Varius, the one brother who’d inherited more of Mom than Dad. Lighter features. Friendlier, seafoam eyes over the darker, dirtier green the rest of us got. He’d bulked up since I saw him last. Tossed down the Bible and picked up some weights. The muscles would do him better than Scripture anyway.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  I wasn’t that interested, but my brother didn’t often venture to this side of the farm, in the shadow of the brand-new barn, new life, new future for the Paynes. The barn seemed like an awful lot of money to drop on a building that would inevitably fill with even more shit for us to shovel, but it had reinvigorated Varius. Gave some in the family a sense of purpose.

  Some men preferred loneliness. Varius needed his family. The sooner he realized that, the better.

  “Cassi sent me.” Varius was too good of a man to lie, but he knew better than to use our little sister as an excuse. “She thinks you’re overdoing it.”

  A couple push-ups and crunches was overdoing it?

  I swore. Since when did my entire family view me as a cripple who needed to be babysat day-in and day-out? I didn’t stop the push-ups. Just gritted my teeth and welcomed the pain.

  “I’m not doing anything more than I used to do.” That lie would destroy the rest of what the IED hadn’t touched. “In fact, I’m doing a hell of a lot less.”

  “Think you can handle it?”

  My brother was never confrontational. Wasn’t his style. Varius didn’t brandish the cross, but he sure as hell beat us with it. Killed us with kindness. That was preferable to the bullshit I’d been through.

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  “You might be doing too much, too soon.”

  “No such thing.”

  Varius knew better than to disagree. “So, what are your plans?”

  I swapped arms only once the push-up threatened to burn the muscle off. Figured. I used to dread leg days. Trade even the worst pulled quad for the prosthetic.

  “You tell me,” I said. “What do you think I should do?”

  “Get out of Butterpond before you gnaw off the other leg.”

  He was the only one who got me. But, Christ, he’d aged more than I had. Fifteen years ago, we were kids running around the farm. Setting fires. Pulling pranks. Chasing girls.

  Now? Life hadn’t passed us by. It’d fucked us without even the courtesy of using lube.

&
nbsp; “I know you don’t understand the farm,” Varius said.

  “You’re not gonna give me a sermon, are you?”

  “I stopped giving those some time ago.”

  “Then what’s this?”

  “A lecture.”

  I preferred the sermon. Those tended to be optimistic. “So, you’re not asking me to pray? That used to be your answer for everything.”

  “You really think anyone is listening?”

  I flopped onto my back, seizing a moment of well-deserved rest as the sweat beaded on my forehead. “Tell you one thing, V. It’s a hell of a lot easier to pray when you’re meeting your maker…or shaking hands with the devil.”

  “I’d hoped to prevent that.”

  “Hell’s a lot more fun.”

  “Than what?”

  “Butterpond.”

  I began the crunches. Tough with one leg. But I didn’t mind it. Just had to strengthen the muscle groups that remained. I didn’t care if it was harder now. I’d do double the work if that’s what it took. My discipline might have impressed my old squad, but I knew better. Nothing about the cold metal and plastic strapped to my thigh impressed anyone. It incited pity. Fear. The same old platitudes.

  Thank God you survived. That must’ve been so frightening. What are you going to do now?

  I had no answer for any of that bullshit.

  “Just want to make sure you’re okay,” Varius said. “Julian’s worried. Tidus too. Quint’s taken to doing the robot when you enter the room. I think it’s his way of coping.”

  My breath puffed hard as the crunches burned. “Nothing to cope with. I’m fine.”

  “Can’t return to the SEALs.”

  “No shit.”

  “Got any other leads?”

  It was either an intervention or interrogation. “There’s a job in DC.”

  Varius said a lot more with the silences than he did when he opened his mouth. That made him the most dangerous out of my brothers.

  While everyone in town fawned over my oldest brother, Julian, they’d overlooked Varius. He was the one with the most sense. Most empathy. Most inclination to stick his nose where it didn’t belong.

  Julian might have been too much like Dad, but Varius learned from our old man’s mistakes. Something no one else in the family was ever able to do.

  “It might be good for you to get out of the military,” Varius said.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about, preacher.”

  “What sort of job are you looking at?”

  Christ only knew what trouble I’d find in DC. “A friend set it up. A cushy job. Some defense contracting gig. I’d be sitting behind a desk. Signing papers. Budgets and shit.”

  “You’d be happy with that?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  I gave up on the crunches and flopped into the grass. The leg bothered me. The doctor said I’d get used to it. What the hell did they know? They couldn’t find their prick in their own pants. No one was getting used to a piece of plastic wedged against an ugly stump.

  I unfastened the prosthetic anyway. Figured it wouldn’t bother Varius. And if it did, tough shit. Bothered me more.

  “I can’t stay in Butterpond,” I said.

  “The farm that hellish to you?”

  “Has it been that good to you?”

  Varius frowned. He looked away, nearly getting sucked into that dark, miserable past that almost stole him from us before. At least he only glanced into that abyss this time. We were all getting tired of jumping in after him.

  “The farm kept me sane these past couple years,” he said.

  That I didn’t believe. After all the disasters and misfortunes that had beset the farm, no one in the family could claim that it was a good influence. Julian tried. Hell, he was the only bastard capable of convincing is to keep the fucking thing. And now that he was spending every last dollar he had renovating and rebuilding the barns, fields, and equipment, we were stuck with it.

  Never thought I’d be working the land again. Sitting around the farmhouse. Sneaking off to get some privacy and peace before my brothers and little sister asked any more unsettling questions about my well-being and health.

  Varius smirked. “Can’t imagine you in an office job.”

  “Wasn’t going to be in combat forever. Only had another ten years or so anyway. Figure I got a jump on the new career path.”

  “Hard to jump on one leg.”

  “Easy to jump on one leg. Hard to get very far.”

  Varius nodded. “You got an interview? How do you think that’s gonna go?”

  “Fine.”

  My brother wasn’t convinced. Another was I.

  “Marius, you’re not some SEAL in the field anymore. Things gotta change. And with all the other problems, not sure jumping into this is a good idea.”

  “And what do you propose I do?”

  “Take some time and enjoy Butterpond.”

  I laughed. “You gotta get out of the house more. You’re starting to lose it.”

  Varius crossed his arms. Trying to look intimidating? Might’ve worked on anyone else. “I’m serious. You’re still recovering. You’ve been through a lot. Won’t you take some time and decompress?”

  “And do what? Stay here? Help out in the fields? You know damn well Dad never wanted me here.”

  “Dad’s not here anymore,” Varius said.

  “And it’s still not my problem. This is Julian’s gig. He’s the one who wanted the farm. He got it. Whored out his ass to the zoning officer for it, and now he’s got a barn, a girl on his arm, and a baby on the way. Maybe that’s his scene, but it’s not mine.”

  “How do you know?” Varius asked. “Maybe you should take this time to figure out what it is you actually want.”

  “I can tell you that right now—I don’t want my kid brother in my face telling me what I should or shouldn’t do.”

  Or what I’d lost.

  Who I could’ve been.

  Because now? It was all about what I could gain. A new job. The new purpose. Everything that I had been lacking before.

  Before that bomb exploded, I’d never regretted anything. Once I lost my leg, regrets were all I had left. But I could change that. It all came from getting a new job.

  From getting out of this mother fucking town.

  “I did my time,” I said. “I got released from the hospital. The nurses stopped calling. I can handle myself.”

  “Ever think it’s not physical therapy that you need?”

  “That’s bullshit, and you know it.” I shouldn’t have dignified it with a response. Didn’t have a leg, but I had a middle finger that was in perfect working order. I flashed that to end the conversation. “I know what I gotta be doing now. Working. Finding a job. Completing a mission. All I gotta do is get back on my feet…foot.”

  “That’s all you need?” Varius raised an eyebrow. “Ever think you could do something different with your life? Settle down. Buy a house. Start a family?”

  “Why the hell would I do that?”

  “Never know when you might find a cute girl.” Varius shrugged. “Gretchen Murphy, for instance.”

  Yeah, that sweetness had already found me. A beautiful, cinnamon angel with a perfect pout, sexy curves, and an ass the did some ridiculous hard work in that bridesmaid’s dress.

  My family knew her. Apparently, she was best friends with Julian’s girl. Worked for the municipal offices, and her daddy owned the veterinary clinic. But no one had mentioned what a pain in the ass she was. Gretchen was five foot, five inches of spunk, quirk, and tits. Not my normal type, but she wasn’t bad for a quick fantasy in the shower.

  Or a lingering thought before bed.

  Or a series of frustratingly vivid dreams during the night.

  Or as the cause of my obscenely hard cock in the morning.

  Yeah. Maybe I needed to find myself a cute girl, but I doubted Gretchen was willing to offer what I needed, no matter how perfect that sweetness would
’ve been.

  Varius shrugged. “You really think you can just waltz into DC, get this cushy job with all these defense contractors and lifelong politicians and sleazy lobbyists and not play their little game?”

  I scowled. “What game?”

  “You realize how shitty you’ll look to these people?”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re the Navy SEAL with no leg and a shit ton of problems. A man who lost his job and almost his life. They’re not gonna give a damn about how fast you can assemble a rifle or how good a shot you are. You’re a SEAL, so you’re not stupid. You know what they’re gonna want.”

  “A man willing to leave his loudmouth brother behind?”

  “They want the man who’s got pictures of his kids in his wallet. A guy who’s bargaining about vacation time because he’s gotta take the family to the lake every summer. They want happy little homemakers and a daddy who coaches the peewee soccer team. They want someone normal, Marius.”

  “And I’m not normal?”

  Varius refused to answer. “You tell me.”

  “I can make my way around the water cooler.”

  “Only if you’re water-boarding your coworkers.” He should’ve quit while he was the only brother I still liked. “You need to sort yourself out. Take this time and spend it with your family. Spend it with yourself. Figure out what you want to do with your life, Marius. You’ve been given a gift.”

  “Six surgeries and a prosthetic leg is a gift?”

  “You have your life.”

  “Am I still allowed to live it the way I choose?”

  “As long as you play it smart.” My brother lowered his voice. “I’m not sure you can live it at all right now. You’ve got to realize what happened to you was some heavy stuff. You’ve got a lot to work through before you can think about holding down a nine-to-five.”

  Bullshit.

  That was such bullshit.

  What the hell was sitting around the farm going to do to help me? Worrying about what I felt, and the thoughts in my head, and the nightmares I had at night? Didn’t fucking matter. The only way to get better, to heal like everybody wanted, was to get a job, and to be the best person for that job.

  I could work anywhere, do anything, and feel a sense of pride as long as I had a mission.