Chapter 5

5

Shannon grabbed a backpack and stuffed two days’ worth of clothes in the bottom before grabbing her equipment she’d need for school. Striker would most likely be scared off by her overflowing bags.

After pulling on pants and a T-shirt, she wrote a note to her dad, telling him she was sleeping at Ashley’s house. He didn’t know Ashley, so he couldn’t check up on her. In two months, she’d be able to work full-time. By the time she got her license a month or so later, she could have a good job lined up, and she wouldn’t be forced to live here.

She’s spent years agreeing with everything her dad said just to keep the peace. That had been difficult recently. Her black eye would make him ask questions she didn’t want to answer. Her dad had blown up at her another time when she’d not flirted with a guy at the grocery store. He’d accused her of being gay, like that would even matter. She didn’t want to date someone she wasn’t interested in, and she wouldn’t pretend to be nice to some stranger just because he followed her all over the grocery store. It was weird to have someone stalk her up one row and then another, ultimately to follow her to the meat area. She wouldn’t encourage that type of behavior.

After locking the door, she headed to the street. They’d already stopped at the pharmacy before heading over here, so they didn’t have that errand to do. Now they could enjoy the day together. Striker’s arm didn’t seem to be bothering him, and she’d taken a few tablets to stave off the pain from her black eye.

Striker got out of the truck as soon as he saw her, and she gave her head a small shake then called out, “Not yet. The camera is wide. Just wait there.”

She hurried down the walk in her tennis shoes, which were much more comfortable than the cute shoes she’d been wearing the night before. Maybe she should have dressed up, but this was her. If he didn’t like her plain and relaxed, he wasn’t the man for her.

“You should have let me carry your bags for you. These are heavy,” Striker said.

A laugh bubbled up from her chest as he placed the bags into his truck. He cut his gaze to her, his honey brown eyes warming her. He probably expected her to explain the laugh, but it wasn’t worth mentioning that she carried heavy packs all the time.

“I’m guessing you want me to back up—that way the truck doesn’t show on the camera?”

“I’m sorry. He’s not really too much of a jerk; he’s just old-fashioned and has certain, um, expectations. He’s not bad, he just isn’t great.”

The engine roared to life, and Striker was true to his word. The truck rolled backward, and she was sure the camera wouldn’t show them. She glanced at him, thinking his sharp jaw dusted with stubble was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen, even with him frowning. He stayed silent, not commenting on her weird rules about her father and her home.

She breathed a sigh of relief when they were gone from her street.

“Okay, now that we have clothes for you, let’s go eat. ”

“I could eat. There’s a Waffle House not too far from here.”

His lips spread in a smile before he glanced to her. “Sounds good.”

She told him where to turn, and they were in the parking lot in minutes.

“You ready?” Striker asked.

“Sure am.”

Striker popped the door on his side, then moved fast, stepping around the front of the truck to her side before she could even attempt to get out. He held her hand, then put his arm around her as they walked in. The woman at the counter gave her a second glance, then frowned at Striker. For the life of her, she couldn’t imagine what that was about.

Shannon settled in a booth and ordered her usual scrambled eggs and bacon. Striker ordered enough to feed a family of four. She had enough tip money from her clients at the school’s salon she could afford to eat out once a week. Maybe she could get him to run by a store, and she could pick up something to heat in the microwave in the room.

Striker reached across the table, weaving their fingers together. “So after breakfast, you want to show me around downtown?”

“Sure. Have you ever been?”

“No—well, I was there last night, or close. I went to a different club first, and it was a dud. ”

“A dud?”

He rolled his eyes. “The people were a little too uppity for my taste. I’m a little bit more of a fun-loving type of guy. I’m not into being perfect.”

Her eyes flicked over him, and she lifted her eyebrows. “I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

His lips turned up, and he glanced away. The waitress was back, along with her sass directed at Striker. When she stepped away, Shannon rolled her eyes.

“She doesn’t like you,” Shannon said.

Striker’s lips curled up on one side, but his eyes were sad. “Could have something to do with this.” His thumb grazed her cheek under her eye. She flinched, and he cringed. “Sorry, did that hurt?”

The waitress had snuck up on them and slammed down the silverware. “Should have known it would hurt when you hit her, ya cocky bastard.”

Shannon gasped, and her hands flew to her mouth; then she waved her hands around. “No, it wasn’t him. He’s the one who saved me.” She’d honestly forgot about the black eye and her lip. People must really be thinking Striker had hit her since he was injured too.

The waitress narrowed her gaze and looked from Striker to her. Her mouth stayed in a flat line. “Are you sure? ”

“He helped me escape the bar, but he was injured in a fight with the guy who hit me. Well, actually the jerk and two of his friends started a fight.” Shannon glanced to Striker, sadness mixing with gratitude. “He saved me. He’s a good guy.”

The waitress’s gaze went from her to Striker, then back. “So he’s not the one who hit you.”

Striker shook his head. “No, ma’am. I’d never hit a woman.”

Her lips pursed, and Shannon didn’t know if the woman believed what Striker had said or not. He looked rugged and maybe a little menacing. When she’d first laid eyes on him, she’d been afraid. Then he’d stood up for her, challenging the whole bar.

She picked up her fork, smoothing her thumb over the metal. It was hard to think about all the bad dates she’d had, and here was this guy who hadn’t even tried to have sex with her, and yet he was the one being grilled.

“He really did save me,” Shannon insisted. “I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t.”

The waitress gave her a tight smile before she turned fast and headed to the kitchen. Shannon’s gaze slid to Striker as worry filled her. What if he got angry?

“What’s that look for?” His voice was deep, and she shivered.

She picked up her fork again. “Nothing. ”

“No, babe, tell me.”

“You’re taking the heat, and those women think you’re the evil jerk who hurt me.”

He cupped her cheek, his thumb sliding over her lips. His eyes softened, and a smile tugged at his mouth. “I can take it because I didn’t do anything wrong. If I had, then I’d be worried, but I’m not, because I didn’t hurt you. As long as you know how I feel about you, that’s what matters most.”

The food arrived a moment later, cutting their conversation short. How did he feel? Her emotions had bubbled up and were nearly undefinable. There was something about him she couldn’t put into words.

Her eggs were delicious, and it appeared Striker liked his food. She shook her head as she watched him demolish two biscuits and sausage along with his eggs and pancakes.

“What?” he asked.

“You eat a lot.”

“Gotta to maintain my muscle mass. I skip a few meals, and I’m not as strong. It makes a difference.”

Her gaze flicked to his shoulders. “When I first saw you, I didn’t think you were that big.”

He winked as his lips spread in a sexy smile. “How big did you think I was? ”

Heat filled her as she ate her last forkful of eggs, watching as he attacked his final pancake.

“Would you like any?” he asked. “The pancakes are great.”

“No, I’m not that hungry.”

“They are delicious.”

It had been a long time since she’d had a pancake. He cut the disk in half and placed half on her plate, waving his fork as he spoke. “Eat up.”

She didn’t want to disappoint him, so she took a few bites, but her eggs and bacon had filled her up. The pancakes tasted of heaven, sending shoots of pleasure through her. He was right—they were perfect. Too bad she was full.

After breakfast, they headed into downtown and parked at one of the garages close to the historic market. Though it was early, crowds filled the area. A cruise ship had docked in port, and people were wandering around looking lost. The scent of the salty sea filled the area and mixed with body odor from the crush of people. Striker didn’t seem bothered by the crowds as they strolled through the market stalls. Talking to Striker was honestly the most fun she’d had in ages. They made their way to the Battery, stopping along the way so he could read some of the plaques about historical events.

She stood off to the side, reading a little bit, just not all the words. “I never really paid much attention to these markers.”

His eyes flicked to her, and the smile he shot her made her insides twist. “The city has a lot of history.”

She took his hand, leading him over to a bench in the shade. “Growing up here, it’s weird. I mean I’ve done the school trips, heard the speeches, but living here, you hear people screaming about honor and patriotism, but it’s all crap. They don’t live it. It’s ruined when you see how they treat each other. It’s a beautiful city with a damaged soul.”

Striker wove his fingers with hers as they looked out at the rolling waves where the ocean met the Ashley River. She’d always loved this place with the wild water meeting the river. It was like two forces clashing together that were more similar than different. Like the Civil War—like all wars she guessed. And like life. She was far more similar to her father, but he made life hard. It wasn’t like he was some alien being.

“I know people like that,” Striker said as he squeezed her hand.

She turned to look at him. Explaining the feeling that passed between them would be impossible, but her heart expanded, and her mind buzzed.

He licked his lips, and his eyes grew sad. “For me, giving people a chance no matter who they seem to be on the outside is more important. I don’t like judging based on outward things, but I know it’s almost impossible. I try hard. Being in the military, you have to always suspect others when you’re out there. It’s weird. I never thought….”

“What?”

He leaned in and brushed his lips over her forehead before he stood. What had he been about to say? Was it important or just an observation on life with the Army?

They wove their way through the area, looking at the beautiful houses on King Street and Legare Street. They stopped for a moment and stared up at the church on Broad. The houses were old but well built, surviving the storms the ocean tossed at them. She would never live in a house like this, but it wasn’t about dreaming she had a life here; it was about having something substantial, something she could be proud of.

Striker draped his arm over her shoulder, and she glanced up. The look in his eyes took her breath away. Whatever was growing between them would ruin her for another. No question, if she had time with this man, they would build something special.

They walked side by side until the walkway grew too thin and the people too many. They walked all the way up to the first Citadel location, then almost to the market to eat at her favorite barbecue place. She ate until she didn’t think she could move again. Striker consumed so much food she worried how he’d fit into his jeans. He didn’t appear worried or uncomfortable though.

Once they were done, they headed over to Waterfront Park near where the truck was parked, and people-watched, discussing everything from their hometowns to school—he’d been raised in Dallas, Texas—to what they wanted out of life. Stability and a good person to share the ups and downs with seemed to be something they both wanted.

Then Striker said he planned to stay with the Army. Silence sat heavy between them. The plans had gone from general to more specific. His eyebrows were bunched with lines, making him look older or at least more worried. What was he thinking? Their gazes met, revealing the passion deep inside his soul. A pulse of energy passed between them.

“I have nine days of leave; I guess I have seven days left since I have to drive home the last day. I’d like to spend the time with you.”

The end came out almost in a whisper, and she leaned in, her heart fluttering at the suggestion. Heat raced from her heart up to her neck to her face. Had he really asked her to spend the week with him? What did that mean?

“I kind of have school on the weekdays. ”

His lips quirked up like her proclamation didn’t change how he felt. “Okay, how long is school?”

“I have to be there from eight to almost five most days.”

His fingers twisted with hers, and he pulled her hand to his lap. “I can work out and study. There are a couple of things I want to learn so I can advance my career, so you being in school is perfect.”

A twinge of guilt hit her. She didn’t want to ruin his vacation. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you waste your week.”

His lips curved up as he lifted their entwined hands, kissing her fingers. With hooded eyes, his smoldering gaze hit her. The force of his desire slammed into her. “Shannon, I don’t think any time spent with you would be a waste.”

He closed the distance and brushed his lips against her like a soft touch, barely skimming the surface but pulling deep at her soul. When he sat up, lust heated his gaze. She wasn’t surprised when he stood and pulled her to standing. He didn’t say much on his way to his truck. Instead, the sizzle of desire spoke for him.

Before he opened the door, he pressed her up against the side of the truck. The slam of a car door, the rev of an engine, someone laughing echoed in the garage, but they were mostly alone in the dark corner where he’d parked. His lips were on hers, his body vibrating with power, lust, and something sweeter. His hands caressed as they trailed down her arms. Though the kiss wasn’t deep, stars swam behind her eyes as he rocked his hips forward.

What he wanted was obvious, and she wanted it too. Her hand slid over his chest, and she snaked it behind his back, pulling him closer.

“I want to do more than just talk when we get back to your hotel room.” Her words crackled with intensity, drawing them closer together.

Striker’s lips were at her ear. “So do I.”

She shivered, and he chuckled. His fingers pressed into her skin, and she wanted nothing more than her clothes gone and their flesh sliding together, their bodies entwined.

“We should go,” he whispered.

“Yes. Public nudity is frowned upon here.”

“I bet.”

The drive to his hotel wasn’t that long, and once inside, he shoved off his pants and pulled his shirt over his head. His hands were on her, tugging at her shirt. He moved fast, and she wanted a long look at him, so she placed a hand in the center of his chest and took a step back.

Her gaze flicked over his torso and lower. She sucked in a sharp breath, her body heating as she stared. Their gazes met, and she swallowed over the lust building .

“You’re really a good guy, aren’t you?”

He shook his head. “Right now, I don’t feel good. I want to do really dirty things with you.”

A twinge of fear twisted through her. “How dirty?”

He licked his lips, and a pulse of excitement rolled over her. The heat in his gaze made her muscles clench. This man had the power to take her further than anyone else ever had. Though she hadn’t even known him for twenty-four hours, she wanted to be lost in him. Maybe she was crazy, but she trusted him.

Her heart filled with emotions, and she didn’t doubt she was in deep trouble. Passion swirled inside, her heart filled to the brim. This wasn’t how emotions were supposed to develop, but she couldn’t help the feelings. What the hell was she going to do when he left at the end of the week? No question, her heart would break when he walked out of her life.