Wyatt (7 Brides for 7 Soldiers #4) Page 8

  “Rude? Because I make you do your own chores and clean up after your cat?”

  She huffed as she advanced on the pile with her wad of paper towels. A moment later, it was gone. The brown stain in the center of the comforter was not.

  “If you had that hideous camouflage comforter from my room, you’d have never known this was here.”

  “Then I’m glad I don’t have it.”

  She carried the crap into the kitchen and dropped it in the trash. Then she washed her hands.

  “All you have to do is stick it in the washer now,” she said, sniffing.

  “No, that’s your job,” he told her.

  “My job? Why? I cleaned up the mess.”

  “You didn’t. You removed the most prominent evidence of the incursion. Cleaning up the mess means putting it back the way it was before the incursion happened.”

  She shook her head. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Hey, you used the word first. Not me. But if you want to treat this like that little bastard is a commando, then trust me, from a commando’s point of view, the mission is not complete. You have to remove all evidence and return the quarters to the way they were.”

  Paige blew out a breath. “You’re nuts, Wyatt.”

  He was nuts? “I’m not the one with a twenty-pound male cat named Mr. Fluffypants.”

  “You really want me to wash your comforter?”

  “And the sheets as well. Yeah, I do.”

  She blew out a frustrated breath and threw her hands in the air. “Fine.”

  Paige marched down the hallway to the guest room. He followed. She ripped the comforter and sheets from the bed, struggling to get the fitted sheet off. He almost went to help her, but she tugged it free at the last second and jerked the whole thing from the bed.

  Then she carried the pile, though she could barely see over it, to the laundry room where she stuffed it into the washer. After a mumbling search for detergent, she found it and upended some into the washer. Then she closed the lid and twisted some dials before pressing a button. The washer started up with a smooth whirr.

  “There. Satisfied?” She faced him with arms folded across her body, chin thrust out militantly. “You thought I wouldn’t know how to do it, right? You wanted to test me? See if I knew the washer from the dryer?”

  Wyatt stood in the doorway, arms folded over his chest, ankles crossed, watching her. “Something like that,” he drawled as desire and admiration and anger all twined together in his gut.

  He wanted to kiss her and he wanted to strip her naked and take her right here in the laundry room. On top of the washer. During the spin cycle.

  Stop. Not happening. Down, boy.

  Her nostrils flared and her cheeks stayed red. “Well, I do know how. You don’t think I have elves come in and do my laundry, do you?”

  “No, but I bet you have a housekeeper.”

  Her nostrils flared again. “I do, and she does laundry. But she only comes a couple of times a week, and sometimes I need something sooner. So I learned how to wash my own clothes when necessary.”

  “Bravo,” he drawled. Yeah, he was still pissed at the cat, still pissed at Gran and Hildie and even the fact he was in this situation instead of busting into an enemy enclave and kicking some terrorist ass.

  No, he was busy babysitting a spoiled woman and her pampered feline. This is what his life had come to.

  “You don’t have to be so damned smug and superior,” she growled.

  “I’m superior? Me?” Who the hell was she kidding? “Princess, you’ve never been inside a Walmart in your life until today. And somehow I’m the superior one?”

  Her face reddened. “I’ve been to Walmart, you rude bastard. It’s been a few years, okay? I liked it.”

  Her eyes flashed hot. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her again. Nothing more. It might even be worth the dent to his integrity if he did.

  Fury whipped through him.

  “You’re like one of those disaster tourists. Someone who visits those who are less fortunate than they are and then insist on using that visit to show how worldly and in touch they can be. While you go back to your safe bed at night, to your baby lettuces and avocado toast, those people are still in danger. Still struggling. But you’ll write a check and make yourself feel better. Tell yourself you’re doing an awesome job being a great humanitarian.”

  Her eyes were wide, wounded. He knew he should stop. But he couldn’t. Something bigger than him was taking over.

  “In the meantime, those people who are marginalized will do desperate things. Some of them will radicalize, and then one day they’ll be trying to survive, trying to gain an inch of ground in the misery in which they exist. They’ll fight to the death, and they’ll take down your buddies as they do. You’ll kill them without mercy, because that’s what you’ve been trained to do, but you won’t forget. You won’t damned well forget, especially when you have to face your buddy’s wife and baby daughter and tell them how sorry you are for their loss.”

  He was breathing hard. Staring at her. Fists clenched at his sides. Her lip trembled. And then she lifted her arm, reached out her hand. Dropped it again.

  “I’m so sorry, Wyatt. I had no idea.”

  Chapter 13

  Tears clogged her throat. Tears of anger and shame for herself, and tears of sorrow for him. He blinked at her as if he’d been transported from another world and only now realized where he was. What he’d said.

  He turned on his heel without a word and stalked out of the laundry room. She stood there for a full minute, reeling. He’d just told her something. Something that hurt him more than he wanted to admit.

  If she’d understood correctly, he’d lost someone. And it had affected him deeply.

  She stumbled out of the laundry room behind him, swiping angrily at her tears. What the heck was she crying for? Because he’d insulted her? Equated her with disaster tourists who went to impoverished areas and took selfies while helping the locals?

  She wasn’t that person. Though, yes, she wrote checks to the causes she believed in. She had money, had a trust fund, though she only received a stipend and not enough to wager it on her business ideas. If she had full access, she’d have her clothing line.

  She did not.

  And, right now, it didn’t much matter. Wyatt was on the deck, leaning against the railing, staring at the town of Eagle’s Ridge below. Or maybe he was looking at the mountains ringed in clouds. She didn’t know, and she also didn’t know what to say.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice a deep rumble that rolled over her.

  She joined him at the rail. Not too close. She propped her arms on the top rail and drew in a deep breath of clean mountain air.

  “No, it’s okay.”

  “It’s not,” he said, turning his head to capture her eyes with his. “I said some things I shouldn’t have.”

  “You were mad. I understand. Fluffy was a jerk, and I guess I didn’t take it seriously enough.”

  His comment about someone under a bridge being happy with a blanket with cat crap on it still stung. He was right, of course. She knew she was privileged. She tried not to forget it, but sometimes she clearly did.

  “He’s a cat. It’s not like he had an elaborate plan. I overreacted.”

  She frowned. Maybe he did. Or maybe he was right and she was too spoiled to even know how good she had it. Did she forget about those less fortunate? No doubt she did. Because she didn’t have to deal with them. She was so focused on her own life and success that she didn’t think about it.

  “No, you were right to call me out. I shouldn’t have suggested you throw the comforter away. It was insensitive of me.”

  “The world’s problems are not your fault, Paige. And you have enough to deal with right now.”

  “Thank you. But I’m not a disaster tourist, Wyatt. I never have been. Yes, I send money to the things I believe in—women’s rights and health worldwide, advocacy for the poor, feeding
poverty-stricken nations, fighting against human trafficking. I’m not silent, though I am also not affected by those things. I know I’m fortunate.”

  She drew in a breath. “But you said something else… You said you had to face your friend’s wife and daughter and tell them you were sorry for their loss. That sounds like you lost your friend. Was it on a mission?”

  He dropped his forehead into his hands. Ran his fingers through his hair. Turned his gorgeous face to hers. His eyes were stark. “It’s nothing. Forget I said it.”

  “I don’t think I can do that.”

  “It’s really easy, Paige. Think that you don’t really know me, that we aren’t friends or lovers, and that once this is over, you won’t ever see me again. Think that you’re the client and I’m the bodyguard. I’m an employee, not a friend. I’m here to protect you, not sit around the fire and talk about life. We don’t mean anything to each other and we never will. So go back inside, pet your cat, and think about your future making clothing for women. Stop thinking about anything I said, okay?”

  Her throat felt lined with razor blades. He wasn’t going to tell her anything. Why did it hurt so much? Why did she care? She hardly knew him. “Okay. If you insist.”

  “I do.”

  She sucked in a breath, trying to tamp down the pain that insisted on throbbing inside her belly, her veins. She shouldn’t be hurt by his unwillingness to share with her. She shouldn’t care.

  But she did. Damn him and his kiss today. Damn him for taking her to meet Mary Beth, whom she’d liked so much. No Man’s Land wasn’t anything special, at least not to her, but even that was going to be a memory she couldn’t erase.

  “I guess I’ll go inside then. Thanks for the lovely day.”

  He didn’t say anything as she spun and walked away.

  He was an ass. A dick. A total jerk. But what could he say to her? He’d lost his mind back there for a moment, and he’d let her have it. But it hadn’t really been about her. It had been about the frustration and hurt building up inside him. The pain. The secrets. The things he wasn’t willing to tell anyone.

  Lisa, holding little Emma and thanking him for coming to Danny’s funeral. Thanking him with tears in her voice. Telling him—my God, telling him that it wasn’t his fault.

  But he knew it was. It was. He’d failed to realize the threat. Failed to protect his buddy. And Lisa and Emma suffered as a result. Danny’s parents, his siblings. They all suffered because Wyatt hadn’t seen it coming that day.

  He scrubbed his hands through his hair. Took a deep breath. Told himself that was over and done with. Lisa didn’t blame him even if he blamed himself.

  There was no reason to keep living with this guilt, and yet he couldn’t stop.

  He spun and went inside, shutting the glass doors behind him. The washing machine was still chugging away. The house was silent except for that. Still. Like that day on the mountain before all hell broke loose.

  Holy shit, he was losing it.

  He went over to the computer and sat down, going through the data. He had to concentrate on what was happening to Paige. Had to figure out who was after her and what kind of a threat the guy really was. Yeah, he’d threatened to hurt the cat. He’d also threatened to punish Paige if she didn’t keep herself pure for him. Whoever he was, he was a sick bastard with a fixation.

  And Wyatt had no idea who he was or what his next move would be. After an hour of studying everything, he had to give up on the idea. He shoved away from the computer and put his hands on his head, taking deep breaths and staring at the sunset happening just outside the window.

  The washer had dinged long ago. He got up and went to the laundry room, tugging the tangled bedding from the washer and shoving it into the dryer. He turned it on, then headed for the kitchen. Paige still hadn’t emerged from her bedroom. Neither had her cat. He was still pissed about the cat crapping on his bed, but in the scheme of things it wasn’t that awful. It could be dealt with.

  He took out a frozen pizza and turned the oven on to heat. Then he dialed Adam’s number.

  “Hey, Wyatt,” his friend said, his voice happy and sane. Where was Wyatt’s happy and sane? He couldn’t seem to find it anymore. “Heard congratulations are in order.”

  Wyatt frowned for a sec. Oh yeah. “What’s the story now? Marriage or a baby? Or both?”

  “Well, I heard it was marriage. Jane heard your girlfriend from Virginia is pregnant and you’re doing the right thing by her. I’m assuming Nicole is Paige—either that or you’ve really got your hands full.”

  Wyatt wanted to strangle Hildie Fontana right about now. But what had he expected, parking in the town square and kissing Paige in front of God and everyone? Hildie didn’t mean to be a pain in the ass. She just was. But her husband and son had both died in service to this country, so if gossiping made her happy, then whatever. Wyatt could deal with the fallout. He didn’t like it, but he’d deal.

  “Yeah, Nicole is Paige. She wanted to get out so I took her to town. I kissed her and Hildie saw.”

  “Whoa, you kissed her? Haven’t you known her for what, all of sixteen hours or so?”

  “Pretty much. What can I say? She’s hot.”

  Besides, Adam didn’t have much room to talk. He’d ended up with the woman he’d hired to help him design the boathouse makeover. Wyatt didn’t know how long before Adam made his first move on her, but he didn’t think it had taken very long at all.

  “Is it a good idea, Wyatt? I mean you’re supposed to be protecting her, right?”

  “No, it’s not a good idea. It won’t happen again. It was just—she said something about Gran that made sense to me. Made me think about some things. I was a little too grateful.”

  “I get it. I think. So what’s up? Need more cat litter?” Adam laughed and Wyatt shook his head.

  “No, we’ve got enough…” Especially when the little bastard wasn’t using the box. “Hey, I wanted to ask you something.”

  This is where his throat closed up and his eyes stung. Dammit.

  “Anything, Wyatt. You know that.” Adam must have sensed that it was serious.

  Wyatt stood there for a long minute, staring at the mountains as they turned golden in the early evening sun. It was so beautiful. So peaceful.

  So why wasn’t he at peace?

  “When does it stop eating you up inside?”

  Adam sighed. “I don’t think it does. I think you learn to accept it and go on with life. It’s all you can do… You want to talk about it, man? About what happened?”

  “No.”

  “All right. But I’m here when you do. All of us are.”

  “I know.” He pulled in a breath. “Hey, thanks. I gotta run. Have to heat up a frozen pizza for the princess.”

  The amusement returned to Adam’s voice. “Good luck with that.”

  “Yeah. I think I’m gonna need it.”

  Chapter 14

  Paige smelled something cooking. She sat up in bed and sniffed the air. What was he making? And was he making enough for two, or when she walked out there, would he tell her she was on her own?

  She clasped her arms around her knees and sat, thinking. Mr. Fluffypants stretched out across the bottom of the bed, his eyes closed, his paws kneading the air as he purred.

  It’d been a couple of hours since she’d left Wyatt on the deck. She’d come to her room because there was nowhere else to go. She’d thought about calling Lily but didn’t. Instead, she’d fallen asleep.

  Now her belly growled, and she knew she was going to have to go out there. Dammit, why couldn’t they have gone to Daddy’s house? She’d never have to see Wyatt then. She could call the chef and get whatever she wanted. She could hole up with satellite television, Netflix, and gourmet food.

  Instead, she was in close quarters with a seriously sexy and infuriating bodyguard. She couldn’t avoid him all night. Especially if she wanted to eat.

  It was still light out, but the sun had moved behind a mountain and the shadows
were growing long. Paige climbed from the bed and Fluffy jumped down, running to the door.

  “You little shit,” she said. “You started the whole thing, you know.”

  He meowed and scratched at the door, oblivious. She opened it for him and then went into the bathroom to fix her hair and wipe the mascara from underneath her eyes before she followed the scent of food to the kitchen.

  Wyatt looked up from where he was standing behind the counter, chopping a tomato. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Her heart throbbed at the sight of him. Why?

  “Dinner is almost ready. If you’re hungry.”

  “I am. What are we having? Or do I need to fix my own?” She wanted to bite her tongue after saying that last part. Why antagonize him?

  “No, I got it. But you can carry this salad outside,” he said, tossing the tomato into a bowl and holding it out.

  Paige went over and took it from him. Their fingers brushed and her belly flipped. “Fluffypants is out and about,” she said. “You might want to keep your bedroom door closed.”

  “Way ahead of you,” he replied. He jerked his chin toward the closed doors to the deck. “Figured we’d eat outside. The view is too pretty to waste.”

  Paige carried the salad outside, making sure to shut the door behind her so Fluffy couldn’t get out. The table was set with a cloth and silverware, though the plates were paper. There were also paper bowls—for the salad, she presumed. There was a wineglass for her and a bottle of water for him. A bottle of ranch salad dressing sat in the middle of the table.

  Her heart swelled ridiculously, though it meant nothing. So he’d made a salad and dragged a bottle of ranch dressing loaded with preservatives from the pantry. It wasn’t meant to be sweet. Wasn’t meant as an apology. It was food.

  He came outside behind her, carrying a pizza on a round stone. He set it in the middle of the table, and Paige felt a little bubble of happiness welling inside.

  “It’s just frozen pizza and bagged salad with a few extra veggies tossed in. If you don’t like it, you can find something else.”