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Heff watched the motel door close behind her, then blew out a breath and fell back on the bed. What the hell had I been thinking?
Hell, he knew what he’d been thinking. Big brown eyes, the color of melted chocolate. Curves for days. Small-town wholesome on the outside, sexy wildcat on the inside.
For once, he wished his instincts hadn’t been spot-on. His former commanding officer and current business partner was going to be pissed if and when he found out. Matt “Church” Winston had already warned all the guys about keeping a low profile in and around town, and that definitely included not dipping sticks in any of the local wells.
Heff had been all too happy to comply with that mandate too—until she smiled at him and asked him what he wanted in that low, sultry voice. His immediate thought had nothing to do with the menu she’d placed in front of him and everything to do with tasting her.
Still, he’d resisted. Not just once, but every time they ate at Franco’s, which was fairly often these days. The place had great food, better prices, and after a hard day’s work of trying to turn Church’s decrepit family resort into a place for vets returning from service, it was the perfect spot to fill their bellies and put down a few cold ones. The universe had to be conspiring against him because she was always their server, unknowingly tempting him with her enticing scent and luscious curves beneath the form-fitting jeans and Franco’s polo.
Temptation—that’s what she was. Pure temptation in female form, all the more desirable because he couldn’t have her. Church’s warning was good advice. The last thing they needed was to complicate things and muddy the waters by getting involved with the locals. The small town and the surrounding area were rife with backwater politics and nepotism. Getting the necessary permits and licenses was proving to be difficult enough as it was. The Sanctuary project was running into one snafu after another, and some of the townspeople didn’t seem particularly stoked about having them around.
It might just be a classic case of NIMBY—the Not In My Backyard philosophy embraced by those resistant to change of any kind. The residents of Sumneyville might have concerns about the initiative, especially when the place was being created specifically for men and women who were having difficulty assimilating back into the general population.
Small-town wariness was something Heff understood. He was from a small town himself and knew that an influx of outsiders rarely meant anything good for locals. Recent media attention hadn’t helped by focusing on the rare cases of those vets who hadn’t successfully assimilated back into society and had become very real, very lethal dangers to those unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
But what about the others? The ones who could benefit by having a safe, supportive place to go while they transitioned from military service back to civilian life?
That was a much bigger problem, as evidenced by the high rate of suicide among veterans. Those men and women—the ones who had put their lives on the line to protect the very people who now looked at them with fear and uncertainty—deserved better.
Great programs did exist. There just weren’t enough of them.
It was precisely for that reason that Church decided to use his inheritance to make a positive difference. The Sanctuary project was something that he and the rest of his team believed in wholeheartedly. Heff thought most decent people would too. They just needed a little assurance and some accurate information to see it.
Contrary to the old adage, ignorance bred fear and mistrust, not bliss.
That was how he had come up with the idea of a town hall meeting. An opportunity to share Church’s vision with the locals in Sumneyville and the surrounding area. To explain what they were doing and exactly why such a facility was needed. Citizens could ask questions and express their concerns, and they could have an open and honest discussion and alleviate their fears. For whatever reason, Church wasn’t stoked about the idea, but the others had agreed it was worth a shot.
That was exactly what had him walking into the Sumneyville town hall during his downtime instead of heading out of town and getting laid like he should have done. Staying far away from Franco’s—and therefore reducing his exposure to temptation—was part of his plan.
Running into her at the township office was not.
And, fuck him, she looked even hotter, sitting behind that desk in that pretty peach top with her hair hanging in soft, loose waves around her shoulders.
Apparently, she not only worked nights and weekends at Franco’s, but she also had a day job with the township as well. And since she was the only one there at the time, he had no choice but to deal with her directly, one-on-one.
On the plus side, she was extremely sympathetic when he explained what he’d come for. Her eyes softened, and—fuck him again—she helped him fill out the paperwork and told him she’d make sure it got priority for review.
Still, he wouldn’t have done anything had fate not conspired against him in the form of a brief but violent pop-up thunderstorm and a second unplanned crossing of paths.
After grabbing some supplies in town, he was on his way back toward the Sanctuary when he spotted her taking cover from the storm under the awning of a tiny shop. He drove past, managing to make it almost six blocks before his conscience got the best of him. After she’d been so kind and helpful, he could at least offer her a ride.
That was what he told himself anyway.
As it turned out, the address she gave him wasn’t her house but a motel on the edge of town.
He should have left her there and driven away. He should have said no. Instead, he found himself going in, securing a room, and then driving around the back with the key.
There’d been no words. No discussion. Just silent, mutual, physical agreement.
He couldn’t honestly say he had any regrets. The last several hours had been fan-fucking-tastic. Emphasis on the fucking.
Maybe it was because he’d gone so long without sex. Maybe it was because he’d been secretly fantasizing about having sex with her since the first time she smiled at him in that damn restaurant. Or maybe it was his belief that, if he thoroughly scratched that particular itch, he could put her out of his mind once and for all and move on.
Heff rolled out of bed and walked into the shower, unable to withhold his grin when he spotted the red bite and scratch marks over his back and shoulders in the mirror. She really was a wildcat, just like he’d imagined. Responsive. Generous. Extremely good for his ego.
Yep. No regrets.
He took his time, enjoying the seemingly limitless spray of hot water. The trailer he was living in out at the site was functional, but there was something to be said for a full-sized shower and great water pressure.
He thought about driving back up the mountain and then looked at the television and the queen-size bed and decided against it. Oh, what the hell? He’d already paid for the night, and it wasn’t as if anyone was expecting him.
Heff pulled up an app and ordered a pizza and a six-pack, flipping through the channels while he waited for the delivery. After watching a movie and eating his fill, he slipped between the sheets, pleased to discover they still carried her scent. Something clean and lightly citrusy that made him think of summer and laundry line-dried out in the sunshine and fresh air. He closed his eyes and drifted off, refusing to overanalyze it.