Geri Krotow - Navy Rules

“I want you to be able to trust me, Winnie.” He set his cup on the counter and leaned toward her. She felt the warmth that radiated from him, smelled the scent that had imprinted on her mind two years ago.

“I trust you, Max.” That had never been an issue between them.

“With your dog.”

She blinked.

“I don’t have a problem leaving Sam with you. I mean, as far as trust goes.”

“But?”

Winnie shifted on the hard stool This really was a bachelor’s home—it looked slick and modern but definitely lacked comfort.

“The girls and I rely on Sam for our weekends. He’s part of the family.”

“Girls?”

She winced and hoped it was inward.

God, please don’t let me blow this. Not now.

“I have two children, Max. Krista and Maeve.”

His expression went still. She saw his gaze on her left hand, watched as his eyes registered her bare ring finger.

“I didn’t know you were with someone new.”

“I’m not with anyone. But would it be such a shock? It’s been a long time.”

“Of course not. I was surprised you didn’t move on more quickly.” He had his back to her, rinsing out the teapot in the sink.

“Oh?”

“Your marriage with Tom was so solid. Most of the widows I’ve dealt with over the years remarry sooner rather than later if they had a strong first marriage.”

She sighed and forced her hands to unclench the fists they’d become on the granite counter. She felt so stiff, as if warding off an attack, and here was Max giving her a compliment.

“No, I haven’t remarried and I don’t see any reason to. The girls and I have a good life, and the thought of bringing in a third party at this point isn’t on my priority list.”

A moment ago she was ready to tell him. Now she wanted to turn tail and run.

He nodded. “I hear you. When I was Commanding Officer of my squadron, before we deployed, most of my late-night calls, unfortunately, were domestic violence or child molestation—many at the hands of a boyfriend or second husband. It’s scary out there.”

She relaxed her shoulders. This was much safer ground. As much as she’d convinced herself she was ready to tell Max about Maeve, she was nowhere near prepared to deal with the storm of emotions it would inevitably release.

Emotions from a man who’d spent the past months doing everything he could to repress all emotion, just to survive. Who was still recovering from the effects of his own hell.

Stay focused, damn it.

“Yes, it is. I’m not willing to take any risks when it comes to my girls and their safety.”

He sipped his tea and regarded her with steady eyes.

“There’s one thing you haven’t mentioned, Winnie.”

Her breath caught, her mind beginning its all-too-familiar racing. What had she forgotten? How had she left the girls vulnerable? “What?”

“What do you do when you’re lonely, Winnie? Who do you turn to?”

CHAPTER TWO

MAX EYED WINNIE as she clenched and unclenched her fists. He hadn’t forgotten one nuance of her expression. He was going on pure instinct but he knew she was hiding something from him.

He supposed he should be relieved. The blast and resulting PTSD hadn’t erased all his memory. Anything that had to with Winnie seemed to be etched on his brain. Probably on his heart, too, but he had enough soul-searching to do without adding her.

Max hadn’t dared to hope anything would happen between him and Winnie again. But from the minute he saw her get out of her car, thoughts of having her back in his bed flashed across his mind. He swallowed a grin. For months he’d tried to fight off any kind of “flashes,” especially flashbacks to the bombing. Now he’d love to relive one—of Winnie naked and begging him to push harder.

“You seem to be taking your time getting settled.” She looked around the Spartan living room and nodded at the empty bookshelves.

He followed her gaze and smiled.

“I built them myself. Helped pass the time when I first got back and couldn’t work full days yet. I just haven’t gotten around to unpacking all of my books. They’re still stacked in boxes, in the garage.”

“I know you love your World War II history. It’s hard to think of you without full bookshelves.”

He felt a warm stab in his gut. Did he care that Winnie remembered something personal about him?

“I have an electronic reader and I tend to use that for straight history. But you’re right, I miss my books. There’s nothing like looking at photographs of vintage aircraft.”

“I imagine you don’t have too many extra hours, what with work. Are you back full-time, then?”

“No, not quite. I’m close, though. I just have to do this dog thing with you—or rather, Sam.” Sam’s ears pricked but he remained at Max’s feet on the kitchen floor. “Hopefully my therapist will be satisfied that I’m ready to play like a big boy again and let me get back to a real job.”

“This ‘dog thing’ can’t be all that’s keeping you from working full-time.”

Same Winnie, same cut-the-bullshit attitude.

Instead of annoying him like they used to, her questions now seemed oddly comforting.

“No, it’s not. You’re right. I still have two more weeks before I’ll be released from the mandatory rest I had to take for my shrapnel wounds.” Truth be told, he’d needed the two days off per week. Until about a month ago, he’d found the exhaustion the hardest part of all the injuries, physical and mental.

“Are you on meds?”

“Are you a medical doctor?” His reply cut across the unavoidable buildup of sexual tension between them.

“No. I’m sorry, Max.” She did look sorry. And jumpy. When and why had she ever been jumpy around him?

She crossed her arms in front of her and stood in the middle of his living room. “We haven’t, I haven’t, we, um…”

“We haven’t spoken in over two years.” He finished it for her.

“No, and I don’t know where to start, especially since—”

“The last time we were together we didn’t have clothes on?”

Bingo. Red flush, bright eyes.

She’s still attracted to you.

“About that—” she began.

“No, Winnie, stop. We don’t have to go over any of this. It was two years ago, and like you said, we never spoke again. There’s no sense in dredging it up now. But I am curious as to why you agreed to work with me. You must’ve known it was me before you came out here.”

“Yes, of course I did.” She raised her chin. “I thought it was the least I owed you after everything you did for Krista and me.”

“You never have to thank me for that, Winnie. Tom was my friend.”

“I know, and I know I thanked you back then and again two years ago.” She paused. “But I can never thank you enough for all your help.”

He held up his hand and fought the urge to come around the counter and gather her in his arms.

“It’s over, Winnie. We’re moving on. No more reliving all that history, okay?”

He saw her eyes cloud as she bit her bottom lip.

He wanted to ease her obvious distress.

Old habits die hard.

She nodded. “You’re right, Max. It’s not fair to you, to either of us, to keep bringing up Tom and when he died.”

Was this the same Winnie he knew? The woman who’d fought so hard for whatever she wanted from Tom, who’d all but ordered him to leave the Navy after his first tour?

He was reminded of why he’d been so attracted to Winnie two years ago; that night of the Air Show. He’d seen this quality in her then, recognizing the mature woman she’d been hiding under her younger, often self-centered, persona.

He drummed his fingers on the counter. “So that’s that. Now tell me more about your new business and your life.”