Gun Shy (10 page)

Drew spoke up next, “Don’t we get a welcome kiss?”

Her smile faltered. “Huh, I made lasagna last night. I’ll just reheat it in the oven if you’re hungry.” She turned around and gave them her back.

Undeterred, Drew stepped around the kitchen table and leaned against her. Scott watched as she tensed up so much she was nearly on her toes in a vain effort to keep herself from being touched by his friend.
What the hell?

“What’s going on, Kris?” Drew turned her around, his palms on her waist. “We’ve been gone a week, and you’ve already forgotten what we did before we left?”

She blinked. “My memory’s fine.”

“So?” Drew pressed on.

“So what?” She bit her lip then seemed to think better of it. Her hands found his shoulders and pushed.

Scott watched his friend relent, wondering what he’d seen in her eyes to give in so easily. Taking a deep breath, Scott walked across the room and joined them, tension permeating the air around them as if a bomb was about to explode. Ironically, he hadn’t felt so stressed in the middle of urban warfare.

Now, faced with the woman of his dreams acting so weirdly, he was on edge, unsure of what to do or say. It was so much easier with a gun in his hands.

Squaring his shoulders, he cornered her against the counter. “What’s going on, Kristyn? Did something happen while we were gone?”

Something flashed in her eyes. He saw it, but she simply shook her head. “Of course not.”

“So why are you acting like this?”

“I’m not acting like anything,” she growled back, the first time she’d shown emotion since they’d arrived.

Hoping he was on the right track, he clasped the counter at her back with both hands, caging her between his arms. “Is that true? Okay then. Strip.”

She gasped, her eyes wide as saucers. “Wha…what?”

“You heard me. Strip.”

Her mouth opened then closed. She blinked. Waited. Blinked some more.

He felt his control snap. His voice low and harsh, he repeated, “Strip or I’ll do it for you.”

He saw the temper rise inside her. Her gaze locked on his, she crossed her arms over her chest and announced, “You can’t make me do anything I don’t want to. I’m your roommate, nothing else. We might have had some fun before you left, but that was just sex. You don’t own me. You can’t tell me to do anything. Got it?”

He admired her for a few seconds more, loving how she looked all riled up like that, wanting to feel her underneath him even more. That is until her words hit.

“Just sex?” he repeated.

Shocked, he didn’t move when she pushed past him. He heard his friend swear as she strode out of the room, and he somehow knew she was going to lock herself in her bedroom and stay there. He knew her. Or rather he’d thought he did…

* * * *

“What the fuck was that?” Drew slammed his beer bottle down onto the scarred bar. “I was looking forward to tonight, but no, she had to grow a fucking conscience!”

“That’s not the issue here. Something happened. I’m sure it did.”

“Like what? She used us, and now, she doesn’t want us anymore?”

“Shit, dude, maybe you need to cut back,” Scott said. “You’re not making any sense right now.”

Drew considered sending his fist into his friend’s face for that remark. One look at Brick’s face over the counter however reminded him no fights were allowed in Hell’s Dune. Not that rowdiness didn’t exist in the bar where SEALs hung out, but the owner, a former Navy man himself, knew how to keep his clientele under control. Which was all nice and well, but Drew felt like hitting something right now!

Speak of the Devil
. Brick stopped drying glasses long enough to stop in front of them. “Women problems, I take it?”

Scott grunted something, Drew shrugging his shoulders at the same time. It wasn’t as if they could announce to the world that they’d fucked their housekeeper and wanted to make her their woman.

Lengthy discussions had ensued over the Atlantic and while they’d waited for their Lieutenant’s orders on the ground.

They wanted her. They liked her. It wasn’t love yet, but it had the potential to turn into something good. Sure, it meant the three of them were at an impasse. Neither man wanted the other one to have exclusivity so the only thing they’d managed to agree on was that they would have to share her for now.

And that was fine. Hell, the one night they’d spent in bed had been fucking amazing. But no, she’d turned into Miss Mousy again, and God fucking knew why.

“You know, sons, if life throws you a curve ball, you need to know how to roll with it.”

Drew looked up at Brick and wondered what the hell he was on about again. Sometimes, he sprouted things that clearly made no sense, except maybe to the person he was talking to. Too bad, he was talking to them tonight.

“Huh?” Drew mumbled, feeling alcohol course through his body. Okay, so maybe Scott had been right, and he’d drunk enough for the night.

“If a woman does something, she always has a reason for it. Trust me on that. And it’s always the man’s fault—or men, as it were. You messed up. Now the question is: where are your balls, sons? If you screwed up, you need to clean it up! Got it?”

Drew’s forehead slammed against the bar. Hoping Brick would take that as a nod, he closed his eyes and stopped thinking.

* * * *

I should get up
, Kristyn thought but didn’t move. Instead she kept staring at the ceiling, her mood dark. Another weekend, another two days spent avoiding her roommates and their knowing eyes.

She’d heard them come back home in the middle of night, obviously drunk, uncaring of the noise they made. She usually couldn’t hear them move, their training so ingrained in them that they walked noiselessly everywhere. But last night, they’d let go and gotten rip-roaring drunk. And why? Because they hadn’t gotten the welcome back they’d expected. Because of her…

She’d pushed them away, and somewhere deep inside her she regretted it.
They hurt me first!
her mind rebelled. Yes, that was true. They’d left her as if she’d been nothing more than a cheap date, someone they’d hooked up with and whose name they didn’t remember past morning. It’d brought back so many bad memories, she’d instantly reacted. God, she was screwed up.

Sighing heavily, she turned to the left and felt her eyes widen at the sight of the door handle turning. A platter appeared in the dim light.

“What?” she mouthed.

It didn’t take them long. They entered her room as if they had every right, smiling when they saw she was already awake.

“Morning, baby,” Scott said, grinning as he walked further into the room. “Sleep well?”

Drew didn’t give her time to answer. He moved to the head of the bed and grabbed her pillows, fluffing them before propping them against the headboard. “Sit up, sweetheart.” He motioned her upward.

As if in a daze, she followed his instruction, the platter coming to rest on her thighs soon after. She looked down and bit back a gasp. They’d cooked her breakfast. No, correction, they’d cooked her breakfast and had brought it to her in bed.

No one had ever done this for her before. She bit her lower lip and stared down at the steaming mug of coffee and the toast liberally spread with butter. At the pink rose propped against the glass of orange juice. She was speechless…

“Anything else you’d like?”

She looked up at Scott and blinked. It took a little while for her to shake her head no.

He smiled and leaned down, dropping a quick kiss on her hair. Drew did the same, and they departed as fast as they’d appeared. She found herself once more on her own, in her bed, but with coffee. That was something, right?

* * * *

“What are you doing?”

Kris shaded her eyes with her palm, squinting in the bright afternoon sunshine. Scott was on his knees in the middle of the back garden,
her
garden. Sweat glistened on his back, calling attention to the corded muscles in his wide shoulders, his smooth, golden skin…

She nearly slapped herself.
No more thinking of them like this, damn it!
She would never have sex with them again. She’d promised herself, and she intended to stick to her resolution.

There was one thing she could never live with, and that was reverting to her old self. She’d been close too, that one night, asking them to fuck her, playing with them until she’d been nothing but a screaming, nameless woman with her thighs spread wide open.

No. No more.

Resolute, she forced her feet forward and stopped beside him.

“What the hell?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

He’d been pulling out weeds. There was a pile of them beside him, and even now, he stretched forward, his fingers clenching around a stubborn root, digging…

“Where are your gloves?”

He looked up then and wiped his forehead, leaving a smear of dirt on his brow. “I don’t have any. Yours didn’t fit, babe, and…well, pink doesn’t really suit me.” He winked at her before bending back down.

“Stop!” Her hand found his shoulder, stopping him. “You can’t do this without gloves. You’ll hurt yourself.”

He looked up at her. “Babe, I’m a SEAL.”

“And what? Poison ivy knows to avoid you. Is that it?”

He shook his head ruefully. “Don’t worry about me, baby. I’m a grown man.”

“Apparently not,” she huffed back.

It was only when he kept staring at her that she realized she still had her hand on him. Her fingers clenched but didn’t let go. His skin felt too good. He felt hot, as well, and she found herself leaning toward him, inexorably tempted.

His eyes were dark but focused only on her, almost as if he were waiting to see what she would do. He didn’t push, didn’t comment. He was just being Scott, his usual unflappable self.

I shouldn’t do this
, she thought. There was a reason why. A good reason.

“No,” she heard herself mumble.

It broke the hold he’d had on her. Two seconds later, she’d whirled around and was almost running back to the house.

She couldn’t ever be alone with one of them again. She was just too weak.

* * * *

“Crap!” Kris winced when the box’s metallic casing she’d been holding slashed through the tender skin of her thumb, blood welling up soon after. She quickly dropped it to the counter and hurried to the sink. “Crap!” she repeated as she struggled to turn on the faucet.

Cold water soon gushed over her tense fingers.

She stayed like that for a few minutes, pulling her hand out of the stream every few seconds to check whether it was still bleeding. And it was. Every damn time.

Exasperated, at herself, at the world which was still conspiring to get her, she turned the water off and paused to think where she’d seen bandages. Blood trickled down her thumb, forcing her to wrap a sheet of paper towel around it.

She couldn’t remember where she’d seen them though. There were none in her bathroom; that was for sure. Maybe Scott’s room? But he wasn’t here, and she didn’t feel comfortable going into his bedroom without him there.

Yes, it was stupid, especially considering she was still the housekeeper. Damn it, she didn’t want to go back into his room, point blank! There were too many memories in there.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

She gasped, banging her knee against a kitchen cabinet when Drew’s shadow appeared over her. “Stop doing that!”

“What’s this?” He grabbed her hand and stared at the rapidly reddening towel. “You hurt yourself?”

She stared up at him, surprised by the emotions clearly displayed on his face. “Yes. It’s nothing. Just a cut.”

“It’s still bleeding!” He pulled her hand up almost accusingly.

“Huh, yeah. I was trying to think where the bandages are.”

He harrumphed and tugged her behind him as he strode out of the kitchen. She had no choice but to follow. Moments later, they were in his room, avoiding the piles of equipment littering his floor, the wall of monitors still an incongruous sight. He stopped only when they were in the bathroom, the scent of his shower gel wrapping around her as he rummaged in the cabinet over the sink.

“There. Don’t move. I’ll put some ointment on it first.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled as she looked down and watched him take care of her.

He had long fingers, the pads calloused and a bit rough when he unwrapped the toweling from around her thumb. He bent over her hand and zeroed in on the cut that had stopped bleeding after all. “Hmm,” he muttered.

She nearly smiled at the intense look on his face. Instead she kept on watching, goose bumps soon appearing all over her body as he spread antiseptic cream over her thumb. His touch was soft but assured, making her recall how he’d touched her. How he’d teased her nipples with open appreciation. How he’d caressed her, making her scream, making her fall for him just a little bit more—

“No!”

He looked up. “What?”