She fell for the nice guy, but will she fall for the real guy?
Ex-ballerina Ellie Bell has twenty-four days left until her self-imposed man-less year is up. No more falling for the wrong kind of guy—charming, sexy, bad. Why can’t she find someone sweet like Charlie Johansson, her soldier pen pal? His e-mails meant the world to her, and she can’t stop thinking about him…until she meets Hunter, whose muscles and cocky smile threaten to have her relapsing.
Before Charlie “Big Game Hunter” Johansson’s last tour of duty, he’d gone through women like crazy. But after connecting on a real, emotional level via letters with his best friend’s sister, Charlie’s ready for a relationship—with Ellie Bell. But then her brother introduces him as Hunter. Proving he’s no longer a player by becoming Ellie’s dance partner for an Army benefit seems like it could convince both siblings he’s changed, but the harder he falls for Ellie, the harder it is to come clean. Can he convince her to fall for the real him before it’s too late?
Information:
Title: Falling for Her Soldier (A Perfect Kisses novel)
Author: Ophelia London
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Length: 219 pages
Release Date: January 2014
ISBN: 978-1-62266-285-2
Imprint: Bliss
Praise for Falling for Her Soldier:
“Sweet, steamy, and so much fun, with fabulous characters that will dance their way into your heart.” – Robin Bielman, author of Her Accidental Boyfriend
Excerpt from
Falling for Her Soldier
by Ophelia London
Copyright © 2013 by Ophelia London. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Chapter One
Ellie paced in front of the mirrored wall, keeping an eye on her line of pigtailed students doing their final barre exercise. Every demi-plié might not have been perfect, but watching the little heads bob up and down in sync was like a shot of heaven to her soul.
“Aaand four.” Ellie took an exaggerated wait for it pause, then threw a hand in the air. “Perfecto!”
With that, eight little girls dropped their expressions of focus and reverted back to giggling, rowdy four-year-olds.
Okay, torn knee or no torn knee, Ellie wouldn’t change her profession for the world.
“Missus Ellie? What leotard are you wearing next time?” This caused the rest of the girls to huddle in a circle around Ellie’s legs. She couldn’t help laughing at the question; she got the same one after every class.
“Hmm.” She tapped her chin, faux deep in thought. “Light blue or zebra stripes?”
There was a collective gasp. “Zebra! Zebra!”
It was decided. “That’s my favorite, too!” Ellie cheered along with her little group. “Now get some water and don’t forget to practice your élevés at home.”
Eight tiny voices rang out that they wouldn’t forget, then there was a noisy dash of slippers sliding across the glossy floor toward the studio doors. Eight parents awaited their girls in the outer room. Some she would get to know very well over the next few years, and others she would probably never see after year one. That was just how it went.
Ellie grabbed a bottle of water and crossed the room, gathering towels and pulling tape off the floor along the way, tidying up after her final class of the day.
“Hey, prima ’rina. How’d it go?” Jane stood at the open glass door, wearing a black tank top catsuit and an ultra-sheer red skirt that barely covered her cheeks. Even on the days when she was manning the front office and not teaching a class, Ellie’s best friend was decked out like it was opening night.
“It was perfecto,” Ellie answered. “Didn’t you hear my ending call?”
“Every time,” Jane said. “Lori’s jazz class is canceled, so I’m going to lock up and grab lunch. Want to come?”
“I can’t— Wait. Where are you going?”
Jane stopped in front of the mirrored wall and tightened her long, dark ponytail. “I was thinking The Phoenix.”
“Danger.” Ellie cringed. “I’ll get ice cream if I go there. Hot fudge sundaes wreak havoc on the body.” She stood beside her friend and compared their reflections. Jane waved hello to them both. They were about the same height, but while Jane rocked a year-round tan, Ellie was as pale as they came. And with her shock of auburn hair twisted into a bun, she could’ve blended in with a white wall.
“Men prefer curves,” Jane said, knocking their hips together. “It’s a proven fact.”
“And I should care because…?”
Jane picked up a lost-and-found T-shirt left draped over the barre. “Because you’re not going to be in cold storage forever. One of these days, you’ll want to start dating again.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to date; it’s that I choose not to for the time being.”
“How many days left until your self-inflicted one-year dry spell is over?”
“Twenty-four.”
Jane snorted. “Not that you’re counting. This personal crusade of yours, it’s totally cray-cray. Why are you doing it?”
Ellie stacked plastic chairs against the wall. “I’ve told you a thousand times why. I became one of those sad stories: nice girl falls for not-so-nice guy. Over and over and over.” She rolled her eyes. “I was a walking, talking cliché.”
“I call BS. I know you’ve had a string of bad luck with men, but—”
“A string?” Ellie couldn’t help scoffing. “Bad luck?”
“Okay, very bad luck. You somehow managed to pick the wrong guy every time. But that’s no reason to cut yourself off completely.”
“I don’t happen to agree,” Ellie said. “The past eleven months have been like a breath of fresh air. I haven’t once been stood up.” She counted off on her fingers. “Haven’t been lied to by a man I trust, haven’t been cheated on, and not once have I fallen for a jerk.”
The past almost-year had also been emotionally enlightening. She’d taken stock of her life and relationship choices. Yes, there’d been a “string of bad luck,” as Jane had put it. But it took two to tango, and Ellie took responsibility for her part in picking the wrong men. She was not going to do that again, not fall into the same trap of a sexy body, charming manners, and bad-boy attitude. She deserved better.
“You can’t tell me you’re not happy with the studio,” Ellie added, leaning against the piano in the corner. “With my mind focused away from the drama of a relationship, our roster’s never been stronger. I could probably sell this place for a huge gain right now. Business is booming.”
“That’s because you turned into a workaholic,” Jane pointed out. “Sure, you single-handedly turned this place into a more profitable business in a year, but at what expense?”
“No expense.”
Jane draped a towel over her shoulder and looked her friend in the eye. “Ellie, at one point you were teaching five classes a day, plus handling all the recruiting and choreographing the end-of-season recital. No one can be expected to keep that up. The expense is that you have no life outside these four mirrored walls.” She gestured around the room.
Jane did have a point. But honestly, the thought of being “out there” again was kind of terrifying. Her head was finally on straight. She knew what she wanted and deserved from a relationship. But what if…her first time back out there, the pattern started again?
What would that say about her?
At least she had twenty-four days before she needed to waste a single brain cell worrying about that. And at least she still had the e-mails…
“Women have needs, too,” Jane said, cutting into her thoughts.
“You’re so modern.”
“It’s like anything you deprive yourself of. Sooner or later you’ll snap, go berserk, and it’s all you’ll want.”
Like hot fudge sundaes, Ellie thought. She’d been hoping after five years of retirement, she would get over that particular craving. But it was still going strong.
“It’s sweet you’re concerned about me becoming Franklin’s town tramp, but don’t worry, I’m completely dry.”
Jane looked at her with concern. “Just please don’t turn all bitter and anti-men on me, okay? You’re supposed to be the optimistic one around here. If your heart loses the ability to trust, you’ll never love again.”
Ellie burst out laughing. “You sound like a Hallmark card. Never love again…” she quoted in a robotic voice, her eyes wide and staring, arms extended like Frankenstein’s monster.
“Whatever,” Jane said after a snort. “So you’re seriously telling me there hasn’t been a single man in eleven months? Not even the thought of one?”
Ellie bent over to roll up a mat, but she couldn’t stop herself from smiling, remembering that last e-mail—
“Ah-ha!”
She jumped about a foot and glanced up to see Jane pointing at her, mouth held in a huge grin. “Ellie Bell,” Jane said in an accusatory tone. “You big cheat, there is someone. When did you meet?”
Ellie felt her smile fade, driven away by the cold chill up her back. “It was right after my brother…you know.” It pained her to watch her best friend’s animated smile disappear as quickly as hers had. When would the topic not silence a room?
“How is Sam?” Jane asked, all the playfulness in her tone gone.
“Good,” Ellie answered. “You know, considering.”
“I’ve seen him a few times since he’s been home. He seems fine, but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that scar.”
A knot pulled tight in Ellie’s stomach. It would take time to get used to it, that three-inch line running down the side of her brother’s face, but she would. She’d convinced herself it was from shrapnel, but for all she knew, it was gunfire, an IED, or worse. The Army had not been very forthcoming with the information about what happened in Afghanistan three months ago. She didn’t want to think about it. Like her brother, she was trying to move forward.
“Sam’s doing much better. He’ll be his old self in no time.” Ellie gave a firm nod, needing to assure herself. “I’m telling you, though, hanging out at the WS is really helping him; that place is a godsend.” She stood in front of the mirror and pulled pins out of the tight bun on top of her head. Heavy auburn hair tumbled over her shoulders. “I’m meeting him there for lunch.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “I need to change.”
“You’re going to that rec center?” Jane asked, walking empty water bottles to the recycle bin in the corner. “I thought it was only for Army peeps.”
“The Warrior Station,” Ellie confirmed, running her fingers through her hair, loosening the waves. “It’s not officially affiliated with the base in Indianapolis, so civilians can go there, too. Which is nice; brings some drama to Franklin, otherwise we’re just another suburban college town.” She paused. “And I think Sam likes hanging around other military people,” she added. “Although, I’m not sure if that’s healthy. Or maybe it is. I don’t know.”
Jane’s one-track mind was set elsewhere. “Let’s circle back to this someone you’ve got the hots for.”
Grateful for the subject change, Ellie grabbed her duffel bag and started peeling off her dance gear. She wished she’d told Jane about it a long time ago, though. Instead, she’d kept the whole thing hidden inside her heart like a little secret. She should have told someone—her brother, especially.
“One of the guys over there,” she began, trying to sound more breezy than she felt, “he e-mailed me a few days after I got the call about Sam being hurt.”
“Like his general or something?”
Ellie laughed. Jane had lived for years in the shadows of an Army post and still had no clue about the military.
“No,” Ellie said as she pulled on jeans and a T-shirt. “It was the staff sergeant from his unit. Charlie’s his name.”
Jane scratched her head. Of course she had no idea what a staff sergeant was Honestly, Ellie hadn’t known either, not until she’d Googled it after receiving a second e-mail from Charlie Johansson.
“He wanted to let me know Sam was okay and would be transferred to a hospital in Germany. He probably knew I was freaking out, since it’s just the two of us.”
“How did he know that?”
“They were friends over there.” Ellie hesitated, part of her not wanting to relive the story. “He was with Sam when it happened, like, with him.”
“Oh, you mean…?”
As Jane’s voice faded out, the empty dance studio felt eerily quiet. “I don’t know the whole story,” Ellie continued, “or even a fraction of it, but I do know there was an accident and Sam was unconscious. Charlie carried him out from wherever they were.”
“Whoa,” Jane whispered.
“Yeah. He e-mailed me the info of where Sam was being taken.” She took a deep breath. “I was so grateful for the information that I replied immediately. The next day he wrote again, telling me Sam was being moved.” She glanced out the glass, down toward her office where her cell was. Over the past three months, she’d become addicted to her phone, never wanting to be too far away from Yahoo.
“I replied to him,” she continued, “thanking him, obviously, then, I don’t know, we started chatting.”
“Chatting,” Jane echoed skeptically. “Are we talking cybersex?”
“No! Jeez, nothing like that. We talked, I sent pictures.” Jane’s mouth fell open. “No, no, not pictures.” Ellie couldn’t help laughing. “Like, one time he mentioned he played football in high school and how much he missed the color of the field in the fall. So the next day, I drove over to Franklin High and took a picture of their field. I e-mailed it right then and told him I was watching the football practice.”
“You did all that for someone you don’t even know?”
“He saved my brother’s life, Jane.”
Ellie could have added that every message she received from Charlie Johansson in those two months was like a little blessing when she’d been the most terrified in her life. She’d felt completely cut off from her brother, even when he’d been moved to Walter Reed. That hospital was still across the country. Charlie’s e-mails had kept her holding on when there was nothing else, and they’d meant the world to her.
“And by then,” she added, “I felt like I did know him. He grew up in Indiana, too; he’s been in the Army for ten years, has a younger sister, loves southern barbeque, and wants to spend a week golfing on his next leave.”
“His leave?” Jane blurted. “Is he home? Where does he live?”
Ellie sighed. “Indiana is all I know; we didn’t exchange that kind of personal info. We e-mailed for two months, but at the end of his last message, he said he’d be gone for a while. You know how the Army is.” Suddenly, her throat felt a little tight, not quite over the fact that he’d stopped writing. “I got that last message the day Sam came home a month ago. Since then, I haven’t been following his unit.”
“And you haven’t heard from him since?”
She shook her head, shaking away another twinge of sadness. “For all I know, he could be off in the desert somewhere.”
“Or deep undercover in the Russian mafia,” Jane added, her eyes going wide.
“I don’t think the Army does that.” Ellie chuckled. “All I know is, we e-mailed for two months, then it stopped cold. I think maybe he was tiding me over till he knew I wasn’t alone.”
Jane tilted her head. “That’s kinda sweet.”
“He was sweet,” Ellie said, feeling a little tug at her heart. How was it possible to miss someone she didn’t even know?
“But not sweet enough to keep you occupied for the next twenty-four days?”
Ellie laughed and tucked the front of her too-long T-shirt into the front of her jeans. “Apparently not.”
“Keep me in the loop this time. Oh, and if you ever do decide to sell the studio,” Jane said, pulling open the glass door, “if you don’t come to me first, I’m taking back your BFF card. Give Sammy a big hug for me.”
“I will.”
Ellie climbed in her car, ready to head to the Warrior Station for lunch with her brother. Instead, she pulled out her phone and flipped to the folder of saved messages.
The field hasn’t changed a bit since high school, she read. I can’t tell you how many hours I spent on that thing. Huh. Makes me sound like an old man. Thank you for sending the picture, Ellie. I’ve had a hell of a hard day, and you have no idea how seeing this little piece of home makes me smile. Ellie was smiling, too, as she read, and twirling a strand of hair. If I was there right now, I wouldn’t run down the field for a touchdown. I would stand under the home goalpost, because that’s the spot where Coach said he believed in me and told me why. Ellie loved this part of the story.
I was a sophomore, she read on, still trying to find my way. The things he said changed my whole outlook, made me a better player, a better teammate. After that, before every single home game, I’d go to that spot and give the post a high five. Yeah, it sounds really lame, but I couldn’t let myself forget that moment. Funny, I’ve never told anyone that before. I wish I could show you that spot, Ellie. I wish I could stand with you under that goalpost and tell you exactly how I felt, how I feel now.
Ellie closed the message, getting the same flutter in her tummy as the first time she’d read it. Only a few messages later, and it was over. She still didn’t understand why he’d never written again. Maybe he was undercover with the mafia and couldn’t communicate for fear of being made. True, the e-mails started out as simple messages about Sam’s whereabouts, but they’d turned into more. She’d looked forward to his e-mails; she’d liked them.
She’d liked him.
The thought of meeting had never left the back of her mind. She’d wanted to tell him in person how thankful she was for his correspondence at a time when she’d never been so scared. But she also wondered…was there something more between them? Or had she totally misread the situation? Until they stood face to face, she would never know.
And she had to know.
She tossed her phone on the passenger seat and pulled out of the parking lot. For about the hundredth time, she wondered if she should bring up the subject with her brother. She didn’t want to freak Sam out about it—that she might be semi–in love with a guy from his unit—but at the same time, there was no one on the planet she wanted to meet in person more than Charlie Johansson.
Chapter Two
Charlie drove past ten empty spaces, not ready to commit to a parking spot. After seven years of painstaking restoration, he wasn’t about to let the door of his baby get dinged. The lot was full. Bumper stickers reading “Army Strong” and “Have You Hugged a Soldier Today?” seemed to be plastered on every other car.
He finally found the spot, and it was a pretty choice one: second row, first slot, so the whole passenger side of the Impala would be out of harm’s way. Nice. He was about to pull in when he noticed a van circling nearby. He could tell by the racks on the back and side that it was equipped for a wheelchair. He glanced to the front row of the lot—all the wheelchair-friendly spots were taken. A place like the Warrior Station really should have at least twice as many accessible spaces.
As the van was about to drive by, Charlie rolled down his window and waved to the driver that he could take the spot. The guy behind the wheel waved in return, backed up, and waited for Charlie to pull out. After circling the lot again, Charlie settled on a space in the back. He didn’t mind walking.
The Warrior Station had never really been his hangout of choice, maybe because when he was working he was with soldiers all day. When he was on leave, he’d rather spend time with his family, work on his car, or be in the company of a beautiful woman to keep his mind off work.
But during his last tour of duty, lots of guys in the unit spoke highly of the WS, so Charlie figured he should check it out. Plus, Sam liked to hang out here. Unlike Charlie, his buddy found solace at the Warrior Station, so it must not be all bad.
Speaking of not bad…
Charlie heard the laugh before he saw the face. She was alone, leaning on the bumper of a white car, chatting on the phone. Tall and slender, she was wearing tight jeans and what looked like a man’s V-neck undershirt—which was stunning enough, but to top it off, she had a curtain of gorgeous red hair. As he drew near, he felt the natural urge to stop and talk, get her number, take her out tonight as one of his tried and true work distractions.
When he got closer, she lifted her chin and met his gaze. The moment their eyes locked, Charlie’s throat went uncharacteristically dry.
“How you doin’?” he said. What the hell? Since when did he channel Joey Tribbiani?
“Um, hi,” the redhead replied.
Even her voice was sexy, if not a bit unimpressed.
Before Charlie had time to think of something as equally non-charming to say, she tucked some of that fiery hair behind one ear and went back to her phone conversation.
Oh, well. He smiled to himself and continued across the parking lot, never breaking stride. Charlie’s philosophy was: There is always another woman. As he got closer to the entrance, he noticed Exhibit A exiting the WS. Their eyes met and recognition flashed behind hers.
“Hi, Mr. Big Game Hunter,” she said.
“Hey there,” Charlie replied, automatically flashing a smile.
Her name was Anna. Or Annie? What he did recall was the butterfly tattoo on her lower back and the sunflower on her hip. He’d met her a few days ago at the WS, his first night back after being deployed, and they’d left together.
Anna/Annie ran a hand across the inside of his elbow. “Why haven’t you called?”
“I meant to,” he said. “You know how it goes.”
“Well…” She squeezed his elbow. “Don’t take so long next time. See ya.” She licked a corner of her mouth, turned slowly, and walked away.
Out of habit, Charlie watched her leave, then opened the glass double door. Coming out of the warm autumn sun, he entered the cold A/C of the Warrior Station rec center. It was more like a compound, thirty thousand square feet, at least. To the right was a large open space with four pool tables. All of them in use. Just behind that was a row of old-school arcade games. Guys in uniforms or civilian clothes shouted and laughed. Charlie felt camaraderie in the air.
To the left were chest-high cubicles set up with personal computers and PlayStations. Most of those were in use, as well. There was a wide doorway off to the side. From when he’d been here before, Charlie knew down one of the halls was a media room with couches, lounge chairs, and one giant-ass flat screen. Down the other hall were the meeting rooms.
That was where Sam would be.
“Oh, um, good morning, Staff Sergeant.”
Charlie turned to see one of the men from his unit.
“We’re not on post, Jeff,” Charlie said in a low voice. “Call me Hunter; everyone does.” Charlie inwardly cringed at his own nickname. He couldn’t remember which of the guys in boot camp had christened him “Big Game Hunter,” but it had stuck. For all intents and purposes, among military personnel, it was his name. He was used to it, answered to it, but he never really cared for it, didn’t like the implication.
“Thank you, Staff Ser—I mean, Hunter.”
The kid was nineteen, so Charlie cut him some slack. “Have you seen Sam Bell?” he asked, pointing in the general direction of the hallways.
“Earlier,” the kid answered. “Not for a while, though. He must be with the…”
Charlie nodded, not needing him to finish. Sam would still be in a private counseling session or one of the group meetings. His buddy’s shoulder, arm, and face were healing just fine; it was his spirit that was still having issues.
“Thanks, Jeff. Take it easy.”
Not wanting to bust in on Sam if he was talking with a counselor, Charlie wandered past a group of guys playing Foosball. A couple of them greeted him by name—“Hunter,” of course. One of them, the one with the loudest hoots, was missing a leg. They nodded at each other as he passed.
Charlie had enlisted halfway through college. That was more than a decade ago. During his time in uniform, he’d seen some things, he’d done some things, but never once had he questioned his position or doubted his ability.
Never, that is, until his close call three months ago. The old adage of your life flashing before your eyes hadn’t happened exactly. It was more like everything he hadn’t done smacked him upside the head like an Ali left hook.
He loved his car. He loved his family. He loved the way the sky smelled just before it rained. But three months ago, when he’d scaled down that mountain in the blistering heat, Charlie had realized he needed a change, he needed to be better, he needed more.
Just what that “more” was, he didn’t know.
“Hunter, hey.”
Charlie blinked and broke stride. “Hey, Sam.” He lightly punched his friend’s arm. It was hard not to look at the scar on Sam’s face, but he couldn’t not look at it, either. Couldn’t not remember the night it happened.
Come on, man, pull it together. This is one of your best friends. Practically everyone you know from work has a battle wound of some kind. It’s a badge of honor.
“You look good, man,” Charlie said, punching him again. “How ya doing?”
“Fine,” Sam said. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I was meeting with my group.”
“Yeah.” He nodded and slid his hands in his pockets. “Good, good.”
Charlie felt lucky he’d never been hooked on psychotherapy after a tour, but he wouldn’t begrudge his friend. It had obviously helped, and besides, Sam had had it much worse than any of them during their last mission. As per Army regulations, Charlie had gone through the basic debriefing and counseling. He was fine. And despite what the MD prescribed, he did not need to talk it out. He was dealing with it on his own.
“Have you eaten?” Charlie asked, gesturing toward the corner behind the pool tables. “Is that a deli over there?”
Is there anything this place doesn’t have? No wonder Sam never wants to leave.
“It’s not bad,” Sam said. “I was just about to grab a table.” Sam greeted practically every person they passed, but then he slowed his pace. “Hunter,” he said in a lower voice, “I need to thank you.”
“For what?”
He ran a hand over his shaved head. “You know…for—”
“Dammit, man.” Charlie cut him off. “You can’t thank me every time you see me. I’ve been home a week and it’s getting old.”
“My doctor said—”
“Screw the doctors. It happened and it’s over. If you bring it up again, I swear I’ll bury you up to your head in sand when we get back to Afghanistan.” Charlie meant it as a joke, but Sam only stared back. “Listen, I know what you mean, but you’re all right now, you’re home, and that’s what matters.” He put a hand on his buddy’s shoulder. “Okay?”
“Okay,” Sam said. “Thanks.”
Charlie growled and made a fist.
Sam laughed and shook off Charlie’s hand. “I mean, screw you, Hunter.”
“There ya go.”
They stood behind the deli counter. There were no menus, just daily specials written on a chalkboard hanging in front of the grill. They placed their orders and found an empty table near the wall.
“I’m going to the range to hit balls later,” Charlie said. “Then play a round. You should come. We’ll get a foursome.”
“I should, only…they’re showing a fight on Pay Per View later.” Sam nodded toward the middle of the room. “Then Texas Hold ’Em tonight.”
“You’re hanging out all day?”
Sam smoothed down the collar of his shirt. “I like it here.”
Charlie nodded and dropped the subject, trusting that his buddy knew best, though he really missed hanging out like they used to.
A moment later, their order number was called. Before Charlie could move, Sam leaped up and disappeared. While he was gone, Charlie leaned back and lazily scanned the room, bobbing from face to face, his eyes moving to the front door across the long room when it swung open.
Today must be his lucky day, because in stepped the knockout redhead from the parking lot. Charlie sat up straight. In a room full of boisterous soldiers, the woman stood out like a beautiful sore thumb. She, too, was scanning the crowd like she was meeting someone. Now was his chance to erase that terrible first impression from her mind; for a woman like that, he would gladly stoop to apologizing.
But only if she isn’t already with someone, he reminded himself.
Very few women were unavailable in his book. His hands-off list was short: his sister Tess’s friends and his own friends’ sisters.
Even while sizing up the redhead and calculating how soon he could be running his hands through that hair, Charlie reminded himself that his womanizing tendencies had to stop; that was one of the things he’d mulled over and over while stranded on that mountain. He’d taken stock of his past conduct and didn’t like what he saw.
It wasn’t as if he were ready to settle down or anything insane like that, but he did know it was time to change his attitude and behavior toward the women he dated. That change, however, was slow in coming. He’d relapsed with Anna/Annie the other night. But he was really ready now. Maybe he’d even stop going by “Hunter.” It was such a dumbass name.
Still standing by the door, the woman passed her eyes right over him. Charlie was about to stand up and make his way toward her when she headed in the opposite direction. She was obviously at the WS to meet someone else, and Charlie had to respect that, even if he didn’t like it.
Note to self, he thought. The redhead isn’t interested.
So instead of leaping to his feet and cutting her off, he sighed and sat back. This whole turning-over-a-new-leaf mindset kind of blew.
Just then, Sam returned with their tray of food. “So, what did you do last night?” he asked, passing Charlie a plate with a wrapped burger and a pile of fries.
“Date,” Charlie answered.
Sam grinned. “Yeah?”
Charlie shrugged and took a fry.
“No details?”
Normally, Charlie would have shared. A bit. Contrary to what his sister, Tess, would say, he wasn’t a complete douchebag when it came to locker room banter. But today, he didn’t feel like it. Maybe it was that new “find a deeper meaning in life” flaring up. It was happening more often lately, and he knew exactly why. Since he’d been home, he’d wanted to talk to Sam about that very thing, but he didn’t know how to bring it up.
Charlie leveled his eyes to Sam’s. “No details. I’ve changed,” he said, hoping he sounded as earnest as he felt.
“Yeah.” Sam scoffed a laugh. “That’ll be the day.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’ve been in your unit for two years, man, and the Hunter’s status with the ladies is known far and wide. Even Ellie knows.”
Charlie lowered the ketchup bottle and stared at Sam. “Your sister?”
Ellie Bell. The very subject he’d wanted to broach with Sam. They knew each other. Only…not really. Not in the flesh. Just two months of e-mails. But what a two months they’d been.
When Sam had gotten hurt, Charlie knew the Army would be slow to release information to the family. So he’d hacked Sam’s Yahoo account and contacted his sister. During their last tour, Sam had told Charlie about Ellie, how their mother had died a few years ago and the siblings were all they had left. He didn’t remember hearing about a father.
“Why the hell did you tell your sister Hunter stories?” Charlie asked.
“Not much else to do when you’re on bed rest,” Sam said. “I talked about everyone stationed at the Indianapolis post, but there were just a lot more stories about you. And I have to say”—he took a bite of burger—“she was not impressed by the Big Game Hunter.”
Charlie felt the weight of an elephant on his chest. Regret. “I really wish you hadn’t done that, Sammy.”
He was looking forward to meeting her someday…someday after he’d tactfully explained to Sam about the e-mails, explained that he’d been getting to know his sister and—despite his own rule—wanted to keep getting to know her.
In one of her earlier messages, there was that one story she’d told about being pulled over while wearing her bathrobe and only one fuzzy slipper, yet how she was still able to talk her way out of a ticket. He’d laughed about it for days, trying to recount it to some of the guys but never getting the details right.
There was something about her. She was sweet and interesting and open. She was the first woman he’d talked to after his last mission, the one that had gone so wrong. He could be himself with her, no games, no flirting, just the kind of man he wanted to be.
He wasn’t ready to let go of that, even though he knew he should, because there was always a nag at the back of his mind: Ellie was Sam’s sister. And there was no way.
A second later, the guy behind the deli counter came over and placed a big bowl of pasta salad next to Sam’s plate.
“Filling up on carbs?” Charlie asked, trying to clear his head of Ellie Bell. No matter how he felt about her while they’d been e-mailing, deep down, he knew he couldn’t pursue it.
“This isn’t all mine. I forgot to order for Ellie.” Sam pulled out his cell and checked the face. “Oh, she’s already here—I didn’t see the text.”
Charlie’s heart thudded. “Your sister is meeting you? Now?”
Sam pointed his chin toward the back of the big rec room. “Looks like she’s talking to someone at the office.” He leaned over. “I don’t think she sees me.”
So it would happen after all: Sam was going to introduce them. Sure, she would be polite, but in the back of her mind she’d be pissed off that he’d stopped e-mailing. Damn, why had he done that? Why had he just disappeared and not explained about the unspoken “sister rule” he’d always lived by? If she was the kind of woman he thought she was, she would have understood, and he would have filed their two-month correspondence under “wishful thinking” instead of “sucky mistakes.”
“Here she comes,” Sam said.
Charlie wheeled around in his chair, glancing in the direction Sam was gesturing. For a second, he thought he was hallucinating—latent onset of TBI, maybe? But when the redhead lifted a hand and waved to Sam, Charlie’s stomach spun like the blades of an AH-64 Apache. “That’s your sister?”
“Yeah, why?”
When it finished its spinning, his stomach hit the floor, but he didn’t have time to react or even think. Together, both he and Sam pushed back their chairs and stood.
Her legs were long and lean as she strode over, her red hair tossed over one shoulder. Ellie Bell. The woman who’d been running around in his head for three months. Holy damn. The nearer she got, the harder it was to keep a smile off his face, recalling her bathrobe/fuzzy slipper story. By the time she made it to the table, Charlie knew he was grinning like an idiot.
“Sammy,” she said, smiling brightly at her brother.
“Hey sis.” Sam opened his arms.
Ellie walked into the hug while Charlie watched her with interest. “How are you?” she asked.
“Fine, good,” Sam said. “Today is a good day.”
“That’s wonderful.” After the hug, she stepped back and tilted her head, examining her brother. “You’ve got more color.” She pinched his cheek. “And I’m glad you’re eating.”
Charlie couldn’t help chuckling under his breath.
Sam cleared his throat and smiled sheepishly, probably embarrassed at being coddled. “Ellie,” he said, gesturing toward Charlie, “this is a friend of mine.” Charlie watched in anticipation as her eyes slid to him. They were huge and light green, the color of lily pads on a sunny day.
Ellie Bell was more beautiful than he’d dreamed.
“Hi there,” Charlie said, bracing himself, knowing the other shoe was about to drop.
“This is Hunter,” Sam added.
Charlie blinked, momentarily thrown at being introduced by his Army nickname. But, technically, what else would Sammy call him?
He had a lightning-quick thought: Maybe Ellie wasn’t about to find out that he was her pen pal like this, all rushed and confusing and public. Maybe he would have a chance to explain after all.
“Oh.” Ellie’s green eyes locked on him as she cocked her head to the side, her voice not as sunny as five seconds ago. “It’s you.”
With those two words, Charlie knew that big, stupid shoe was indeed about to plummet.