Chapter 6

* * *

GIDEON

Oh my gosh, Gideon, you are such a dork, he thought wretchedly, staring at his reflection in the mirror and wincing. He hadn't shaved in a few days, giving him a scruff on his face that would make his commanding officer foam at the mouth like Cujo. His hair was getting long, and standing there, he was starting to look like a civilian instead of a soldier – or at least in his own critical eyes, that was the case. He rested both hands on either side of the sink and hung his head.

And Christina?

My goodness, could anyone be any more vibrant or spectacular?

She was gentle, and he could see it in her expression or the way she moved, but when she got to talking, there was a fire in her gaze that told him she would take over a conversation if allowed. Her eyes had caught his attention, but her pale golden skin had held it. The woman had a vitality that seemed to just exude from her, and he was here for it.

That big smile of hers just made his knees weak – and it had nothing to do with a pinched nerve. He didn't want some vapid, dolled-up prima donna, but give him a down-to-earth actual woman, and he was in heaven. Curves, curves, and more curves, along with intelligence, kindness, that vibrant smile, and the way she looked at him. Yeah, she really checked off every box for him, and they were going to be ‘friends'?

"Heaven help me," he muttered, turning on the water and briskly washing his hands as he stared at his reflection. "She wants to be friends, and I, in my blood deprived brain, said we were going to be ‘barn buddies'. What in the heck is a ‘barn buddy' anyhow, you moron? Meet you under the sheets? Really?"

Now he was going to have to join his ‘barn buddy' at the table, try to act normal and completely unaffected when he most certainly was. Christina was appealing, and if he was honest with himself – he was lonely. The fact that he was suddenly sharing a cabin with a very attractive woman had hit him hard. The knowledge that she wasn't interested in anything but friendship, well, that hit a lot harder – and directly below the belt.

Yeah, he was going to have to think about this and come up with a plan, he mused as he slowly walked into the dining area. Seeing everyone sitting at the table and a woman directly beside Christina, he fought the urge to tell the blonde to get up and move. Instead, he felt eyes on him as he sat down quietly beside Houghton at the end of the table.

"Babe," Jill began, nodding. "Can you say Grace for us?"

"Always," Houghton replied.

Without hesitation, everyone moved easily and clasped hands, bowing their heads. He used to do this all the time at home and on base. His squad always said their prayers before a meal, giving thanks, and this really hit home for him. Gideon felt tears of regret sting his eyes because he was no longer a part of the team. He felt almost brutally severed from his work family, and his own had slowly parted ways as they married or moved on. No, he was here, alone, in the middle of nowhere and…

He felt a tap on his cast, causing him to look up into Christina's knowing eyes. She was watching him and looked concerned, causing him to press his lips together tightly in a grimace. Yeah, he hated someone noticing a soft spot in him, much less her, and just looked away, swallowing. He was okay and just being emotional probably because he was tired. It had been a long day, and he just wanted to lie down.

This would bring about more problems.

Bigger problems.

Bedproblems.

We're barn buddies he grimaced, before whispering ‘Amen' with everyone else, who was digging into their plates, except Christina. He could still feel her eyes on him, watching and analyzing his every move. The woman sensed something about him and was wary and had every right to be. He was attracted to her, and this was going to end up being a mess before it was all over with.

* * *

Gideon made small talk with Houghton throughout dinner, feeling extremely weird that he was the only other guy here currently. Houghton informed him that another person was headed this way. A soldier from Afghanistanwho was being discharged from the hospital soon, and surprisingly, would be followed by yet another. The third man was currently in Germany being looked at, but according to his source, he was pretty sure that the other guy was coming here as well.

What was this place that just took in injured soldiers like it was nothing – and paired them with women? When he asked Houghton about it, the man didn't say a word and just looked at him before shrugging.

He shrugged.

Gideon was paired with a gorgeous woman, and the man shrugged? Was that bro-code for ‘Go for it' – or was that a silent ‘Do what you think is best and we'll see who is alive at the end of everything' warning? He hated mind games and preferred the direct approach, but Houghton was giving him nothing to work with.

Startled out of his thoughts, he saw Christina was practically shooed out of the kitchen by Jill and moving toward the back door to put on her coat. If she was leaving, then he was going too.

"Excuse me," he said abruptly to Houghton, getting up from his seat awkwardly and getting his crutches under his arms. Hurrying toward the back door where all the coats were hung on pegs, he saw her open the door to leave and almost called out. Instead, he grabbed his coat, scrambled out behind her, and nearly fell.

Gideon cursed as he caught himself against the cabin, shoving a splinter into his palm painfully only to see Christina turn around. Her eyes met his, and he saw those perfect lips make a small ‘O' in surprise before she hurried to his side.

"You need your coat," she chided. "It's cold out here."

"I wanted to walk with you."

"Then you should have said something."

"But you left," he began, slipping his arm into the jacket she was trying to help him with… and slowly looked up toward him, her eyes meeting his. "You left quickly. and I wanted to walk with you."

"I'd like that," she admitted in a hushed voice.

"Me too," he confessed quietly, not looking away. "Barn buddies, remember?" – and winced as she chuckled, the moment broken by his stupid mouth. She adjusted his coat again and moved to his side so they could walk together.

A part of him wished that conversation came easier, but he felt so out of his element being around her. He felt like a fool, ungainly, and almost like a teenager with his first crush once again instead of a grown man. It wasn't like he was innocent, but being around Christina seemed to highlight every doubt in his mind painfully.

"We should probably talk about the sleeping arrangements," she strangled out as they got close to the cabin. "There's one Murphy bed and…"

"Christina," he interrupted, looking at her and pulling her to a stop beside him. "I'm not going to touch you. You're safe from me."

"I know," she smirked. "You can't afford to have another limb incapacitated." The unexpected bravado and confidence in her statement struck him as funny, causing him to laugh easily as she stood there looking at him. "You think I'm kidding?"

"No," he chuckled. "I have a feeling that if I crossed a line, you'd give it your everything. I promise I won't touch you."

"Thank you."

"Without your permission," he amended – and saw her sharp, silent glance as he looked at her, waiting. Instead of commenting or coming back at him with a rebuttal, she turned back toward the cabin and began walking again.

"I thought we could make it simple and use two different blankets, putting the crutches between us as a wall."

"You want us to… sleep together… with the crutches as a wall?" he repeated, pausing slightly, and completely taken aback. "Um, no."

"What do you mean ‘No'?"

"My mother would absolutely tan my hide if she heard I was sleeping consistently with a woman – unmarried," Gideon admitted, shaking his head. He was going to offer to sleep in the recliner because the thought of lying beside Christina was akin to torture. He'd rather shove toothpicks under his fingernails. And what if he woke up ‘happy'? How exactly was he going to hide things from her? What if he rolled over in his sleep and cuddled with her? He'd ‘slept' with a woman before – but never actually slept with one overnight. Plus, if his mother found out? She'd be all over him about grandbabies which is part of the reason he came here. Now that his younger siblings were having children, the pressure was on!

"Your… mother?"

"Yes!" he said emphatically. "My mother raised us to respect women and honor the sanctity of marriage. If she heard that I was sharing a bed with you, well. You've never seen her mad."

Christina was staring at him with wide-eyed shock combined with amusement as he looked at her.

"Don't laugh," he retorted. "She does this weird pincher move on your ear that will bring you to your knees faster than Spock and his Vulcan grip… and then…"

"Oh my gosh," Christina blurted out, laughing hysterically, waving her hands, and looking perfectly adorable as her voice carried in the still of the darkness. "Vulcan? Are you a nerd?"

"Noooo?" he immediately blurted out and then hedged. "Maybe slightly? Is that a bad thing?" She shook her head at him and instead of answering, she opened the door to the cabin, stepping back to allow him to go in. He hated that she insisted he enter first, because everything in him wanted her to go inside first, but he did need someone to hold the door that was on a spring so it didn't slam into his face.

As she entered the cabin, he turned to look at her.

"What's your plan for the sleeping arrangements then?"

"I thought I'd sleep in the recliner."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not that comfortable."

"Houghton said it was."

"It's not," she argued. "Besides, when the bed is down, there is no room to get around it which means whoever is closest to the wall will be trapped and unable to go to the bathroom during the night."

"Wouldn't that be the case anyhow if I slept in the bed with the crutches between us? Or are you planning on scaling the crutches and me to go to the bathroom?"

"Oh."

"Exactly."

"Well, phooey," she muttered, and he smiled at the word. Who said ‘phooey' anyhow? "This is not going to work then."

"Sure it will. You take the bed, and there's nobody in your way – and I'll take the recliner."

"But what if you don't sleep well?"

"Are you ready to get married?" – and both of them started immediately the second the words were out of his mouth. He hadn't meant to blurt that out, but it kinda just fell right out of him. There was no unsaying it now, and frankly, being married opened them up to another host of issues.

He didn't think Christina's eyes could get any larger, but she stood there gawking at him like he had some horrible, nightmarish monster standing behind him – and turned to peek, just in case. Nope. He'd just shocked the heck out of her by that simple statement.

"I mean, we'd still be friends…"

"Of c-course," she stammered.

"And we could keep things platonic."

"We would?"

"You wouldn't want to?"

"I didn't say that."

"I mean, if we did get married…"

"We could always get un-married later…"

"Un-married? You mean divorced?"

"Yes."

"You'd divorce me?"

"We're not married, so this is hypothetical."

"We were just talking about sleeping arrangements and…"

"And you lobbed a nuclear warhead in the middle of the conversation!" she blurted out, looking flabbergasted. "You don't just say things like that."

"It's not a warhead, but more like a water balloon."

"Oh, please."

"What? Would it be so terrible?"

"It would ruin our friendship."

"That just started…"

"It would end it."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Because married people do… things."

"Under the sheets, they do a lot of things, but if we kept it platonic, then we wouldn't do… things."

"I don't want a platonic marriage."

"I don't either."

"I'm not sure I want to marry you."

"Which is why this was hypothetical."

"You never said that until just now."

"I sure did…"

"No, you didn't. You said you were scared of your mother and…"

"I'm not scared of my mom. I'm not scared of anything."

"Liar."

"Watch it," Gideon growled. "That's not a word to toss around."

"Underhanded pitch then?" she quipped in a saccharine voice. "You said that you were afraid of your mother's Vulcan pinch grip and…"

"I'm not afraid. I have a healthy respect for my mother."

"We were talking about sleeping arrangements, and you lobbed a grenade."

"I can agree with ‘grenade,'" he admitted. "It's better than a warhead."

"Do you even hear yourself?"

"Of course. I heard myself offer to sleep in the chair, and you seem to be the one that has a problem with it."

"I do."

"Why?"

And to his shock, Christina clammed up and looked at him, drawing herself upward and practically puffing her chest to look indignant.

"It's insulting," she said bluntly. "There is nothing wrong with me that should drive you to be uncomfortable or push you to put several feet of space between us."

"Insulting?" he whispered, shocked. "You think I'm insulting you by offering to sleep in the chair? Does that mean you want me to sleep with you?"

"What?" she exclaimed in a high-pitched voice that cracked and warbled. "Noooo? I never said that! Why would you think that?"

Gideon stared at her, completely confused and waiting. Christina would not meet his gaze, and her face was flushed, combined with her wringing her hands before her. If he read her body language correctly, she did want him there, but was nervous too, and he took a step toward her.

She immediately glanced at him, taking a step back.

He sighed, looking at the handle for the Murphy bed. Balancing himself awkwardly, he pulled the bed downward and looked at her. The infernal woman just angled her chin and nose a little higher in the air trying to look nonchalant – and he almost smiled.

"Why don't you change first and get ready for bed. I'll change out here. Neither of us comes out of our spaces until the other is ready."

"Fine," she said loftily.

"Fine."

"Good."

"We can work this out."

"Precisely."

"Christina?"

"Yes?"

"Please go in the other room so I can get in my running shorts to sleep in."

And she bolted, darting into the bathroom without a moment's hesitation. Gideon wasn't shy in the slightest after sharing the barracks with thirty other men. Yep. There were larger bunkrooms, some private rooms, a few private showers, and then the larger locker rooms that had showers lining the walls like he was in gym class. When you only had five or ten minutes to get cleaned up, you quickly lost any inhibition. He changed fairly quickly because his pants had been cut off to allow his cast to slip through the opening, and his shorts were also easy to slip on.

"Are you decent?" she called out.

"Yup."

And Christina peered around the corner warily before sighing. As she emerged, he couldn't help but gawk at the pink and white pajama pants that were in a cow pattern. The girl really liked her cows, he mused, smiling.

"So, where are you sleeping?" he said simply.

"The bed," she whispered hoarsely.

"Where do you want me to sleep so you don't feel insulted or that I am pressuring you for something more than cohabitation," and he held his breath as the silence hung in the air between them. "Christina?"

"What?" she barked in frustration, and he sighed. "Get in the bed and get some sleep. I'm going to rest in the recliner."

"Fine."

"Don't start with that again," he said grumpily. "I'm doing this for you, my mother, and my sake."

"I thought you wanted to…"

"You know what?" he snapped, looking at her. "You probably shouldn't finish that sentence because both of us are tired, I'm sore, and neither of us is ready to cross a line. I've already said more than I should have, so can we please just get some rest."

He put his crutches down and yanked the handle on the recliner, putting his aching leg up before pushing the seat backward and he hesitated. He forgot to get a blanket. Before he could say anything, Christina was there covering him up with enormous eyes.

"I'm just nervous and shy," she whispered in an apology.

"I know – and I'm sorry I snapped at you," he replied, not looking away from her eyes. "Get some rest tonight, okay?"

"You too."