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“Because you were off traveling the world, and your dad wanted to be closer to his people.” Lo is the voice of reason yet again. Even when I don’t want to hear it.
“Fine, I won’t jump his bones and have my wicked way with the man who walks around the house with just a shirt on and has me salivating nonstop. This isn’t fair,” I breathe out a heavy sigh, closing my eyes. It seems impossible to keep my hands to myself. Especially when I’m helping Rhodes with his at-home physical therapy. Jesus, what have I gotten myself into?
“Life isn’t fair.” Lo’s voice drops in tone, almost like she’s deep in thought.
“Lo, you know I’m here for you. Whenever.” I’m sure it’s only a matter of time until she sees the man mooching from her has to have the world's smallest prick.
“I know. Soon. I promise.” She is so strong. She’s also stubborn and independent to a fault. She’ll never ask for help; probably why we're friends because I’m not much better.
Rhodes knocks on my bedroom door. “Are you almost ready? We’re going to be late for the appointment.”
“Be right there,” I say while covering the speaker with my hand in order not to yell in Lo’s ear.
“I’ll be in the truck,” he practically grumbles. I roll my eyes. Five minutes early is ten minutes late for Rhodes. I wait until he’s further away to finish my conversation with Lo. There’s no telling how long he’s been there and what he’s heard. The way my luck is going, he heard every single word.
“I gotta go. I’ll call you back tonight.” I stand up, looking around to find the whereabouts of my purse. It’s not like I need it. Rhodes only allowed me to drive his truck for the first couple of weeks. Even then, it was with him white-knuckling the oh shit handle. I kept my cool but smiled on the inside the entire freaking time. Army Rangers—they’re all the same. Their need for control is superior to anything.
“I’m working, but text me regardless and let me know how things are going.” Yep, Lo seems to be at her breaking point.
“Alright, don’t work too hard. Love you, Lo.” I spot my purse hanging on the back of the chair and make my way toward it. My shoes are by the door. Flip-flops have been my go-to with the hot summer heat scorching me from the inside out.
“Love you, Kyra. Resist the temptation.”
“Easier said than done.” We both laugh then say our goodbyes. I hate that my best friend has the weight of the world on her shoulders, and here I am, calling her to talk about having a lady boner for my patient/dad’s friend. I’m a damn mess.
6. Rhodes
“Idon’t suppose you’re ever going to let me drive again, are you?” Kyra tosses out her remark. I’m standing with the door to the passenger side of my truck open. The garage door is up, the vehicle turned on, and air conditioning on blast while I wait for her to slide her sweet ass in the seat of the truck.
“Nope.” She looks up at me, color tinting her cheeks, and I have to hold back telling her the feelings she has are entirely fucking mutual. I heard every word she said to her friend on the phone. The only reason I didn’t beat down the door and reciprocate what she told her was because we’re heading to a doctor’s appointment. I’ve not once in my life felt like I’m a different guy without my leg, but walking around with a crutch puts a damper on daily tasks.
“You want to drive my truck, you can, just not with me in it. When I’m with you, I drive.” Her car looks like it’s seen better days, and when I offered to park it in the garage and put mine outside, she told me no way. The sun had already beaten the paint down, and the old clunker looks to have a lot of wear and tear. It shocked the shit out of me that Diego hadn’t retired her old ride with how she’s been traveling this past year. I wouldn’t put it past Kyra to dig her heels in and tell him no fucking way. Now that I’ve gotten to know Kyra, I can tell there are battles you choose and battles you retreat from.
“Figures. All of you military men are the same. I swear.” I don’t move out of her way. There’s no use in attempting to be a gentleman when you’ve jacked your cock as much as I have to a mental image of the woman in front of me in every way, shape, or form. This woman is twenty years younger than me, my friend’s daughter, and the fantasies I’m dreaming up about her are all kinds of fucked up. Thoughts of her in my shower, in my bedroom, on every available surface in my house.
“Not just military men, Kyra. Army Rangers.” Her tits press against my chest for the barest of moments. A hiss of air leaves her pretty, little mouth as she sucks her lip in, meaning I have to hold back more than the groan that’s trying to come out of me.
“So I’ve heard.” She spins around. Whether she does it knowingly or not, her ass teases my semi. It’s not enough that thirty minutes ago I was sweating after we finished the exercises the physical therapist instructed us to do, and not because they're that hard. It always seems to come back to Kyra. The woman is a walking hard-on inducer, and she doesn’t have a single damn clue.
“Get in the truck, hellcat.” I pat her ass. The cat and mouse game we’ve been playing is coming to a head. She’s going to know exactly what I want after this damn appointment. Today, I’ll get fitted for my prosthetic. There'll be no more using a crutch unless I feel the need, and then she’ll really be in for it.
“Sir, yes, sir,” she tosses over her shoulder before climbing in. I don’t reply. Instead, I enjoy the unobstructed view Kyra is giving me. Her clothes cover more than her normal gym attire. Her jeans are formfitting, the top too for that matter, and damn, it’s like I didn’t just jack my cock in the shower.
“Jesus, busting my balls on the daily,” I mutter, grabbing the seatbelt and holding it out to her.
“You’d be bored otherwise,” she’s quick to reply, taking the belt out of my hand. I make sure our fingers touch. Exactly what I’ve been doing the past two weeks when everything changed. Anytime she’s near, I’ll find an excuse to get close or touch her. Not once has she pulled away. On the contrary—she sinks closer into my body, her fingers will linger when ours graze, and the looks she sends my way tell me more than enough.
“Damn straight.” I close the door, grab my crutch, head to the driver’s side door, and climb inside. I’ve mastered getting in without looking like a complete dipshit, using the grab handle and my right leg while the crutch stays planted on the ground with my left side. I guess I can thank the big guy above or whatever else is out there for not fucking up my right leg. Then I’d have to learn how to drive all over again or get some kind of rig outfitted. I don’t even want to think how long that would take.
Kyra stays quiet, doesn’t ask if I need help. Once my ass is planted in the seat, I pick up the crutch and place it in the backseat. Kade gave me so much shit for buying a four-door truck. I knew better. While Florida is the sunshine state, the weather can turn on you in an instant, and the last thing I need or want is for my shit to get soaked in the bed of the truck.
It doesn’t take us long to leave my place on the beachside of New Smyrna, driving down the small road that leads out to the main hub of our downtown area. The tires eat up the red brick road. We’re early enough in the day, especially for a weekday, that our streets aren’t full of beachgoers. We remain silent the entire way, enjoying the comfortable silence as we cross over the drawbridge, then hit the main road away from our beach town in order to get on the interstate. I’d have much rather stayed local, as in ten minutes up the road, but the VA doesn’t feel the same way. You do what they say, or nothing is covered by insurance, and the costs for this are pretty damn steep.
“You okay?” I ask once we’re cruising down the interstate, driving with the flow of traffic. Kyra has been quiet since we left the house. Something has to be on her mind. Usually, she’ll start a conversation or start fiddling with music. Today, not so much.
“I am. Just thinking.” I’m about to respond when both of our phones go off at the same time. I glance at my screen. A weather alert appears. I’ll have to take a look once we’re at the doctor’s office. “Well, shit, the hurricane we saw brewing the past few days is now in full effect and getting closer to landfall on the west coast. Dad will be calling soon enough. I never did understand him. War zones, no problem. A hurricane, he’s another level.”
“It’s a control thing. Even in war, there are certain elements we know what we’re getting into. Hurricanes create mass destruction, tornadoes come out of nowhere, and flooding only adds to the shit show,” I explain as I flip my blinker to merge onto the off-ramp.
