Renee Ryan - Homecoming Hero

Her pulse did a little cha-cha before settling into a heavy, thick thump…thump…thump.

Something deep inside her, the part she’d ignored since Clay’s death, recognized this man as a kindred spirit. Was it solidarity from a mutual loss? Or something more disturbing?

Either way, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. She wasn’t supposed to be emotionally involved with a man after only a half-hour acquaintance.

Yet, here she stood, blinking at him without a word coming to mind. As the silence lengthened, the cold, wet air encircled them, creating an illusion that they were the only two people left in the world.

She wasn’t attracted to the man. Was she? No. He wasn’t her type. She preferred artistic intellectuals who wore wire-framed glasses. Not big, strong, elemental warriors.

“Where are you parked?” she asked, pleased at her even tone. If her mother was still alive she’d be proud of Hailey. After all, O’Brien women always kept control of a situation, no matter how unusual, unexpected or emotionally charged.

“I’m three blocks that way.” He angled his head to her left.

She lifted her eyebrows, fully aware that the city’s layout didn’t afford adequate parking. “You actually found an open spot on the street?”

“Yeah. Total cakewalk.” He gave her a wry grin. “If you consider three passes down eight different streets easy.”

Hailey heard a trace of humor underneath the frustration in his voice. He didn’t seem angry about the inconvenience of finding a parking space, only mildly annoyed. That said a lot about his character.

Her brother’s friend was a patient man, even when he was clearly exhausted.

She found herself intrigued by him all over again.

Hailey, no. Not your type. Remember why he sought you out today. “Captain Wolfson—”

“Ty.” One side of his mouth kicked up. “My name is Ty.”

Oh, why, why did he have to turn appealing now, when she was working so hard to put him in the role of opponent?

A breathy sigh slipped out of her before she could stop it. “Ty, I—”

“Or…you can call me Wolf.”

Wolf. Right. That’s what Clay had called him. She could see why, too. His eyes were just like a wolf’s. Stark, emotionless, guarded. Maybe even a little scary.

“Who’s afraid of the Big, Bad Wolf?”

He sighed, looking slightly disappointed in her. Clearly, he’d heard that one before.

Why had she said it, anyway? Maybe it was because his grin had made her feel like Little Red Riding Hood skipping unwittingly into the beast’s trap.

She’d been wrong in her earlier assessment of the man. He wasn’t elemental.

He was dangerous.

And when it came to men, Hailey O’Brien did not do dangerous. Ever.

It was important she remember that little factoid about herself. “All jokes aside, I think Wolf suits you best.”

He lifted a shoulder. “Call me whatever you like.”

“Well then, Wolf, do you want to ride with me?”

“No.” He looked over his shoulder in the direction he’d indicated earlier. “I have my own wheels.”

His answer was quick. A little too quick. “How can I be sure you’ll show?”

“Because I said I would.”

She recognized her mistake at once. Even without Clay’s e-mails to attest to his character, the rough honesty and deep code of ethics Wolf lived by were obvious in his direct gaze and straightforward manner.

“I’m sorry.” She broke eye contact, resisting an urge to dig her toe in the knothole at her foot. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“Apology accepted.”

Before he could speak again, she rattled off the address for Faith Community Church.

He nodded. “I know the one.”

Again, he surprised her. “You do?”

He didn’t reply at first, merely stared at her. A battle seemed to wage behind his eyes before he said, “Hailey, this isn’t my first trip to Savannah. I was at Fort Stewart six months before I was deployed to Iraq this last time.”

“But Clay’s e-mails said you two met in Iraq.”

“We did. We became friends—” He stopped, shut his mouth, swallowed hard and then started again. “We became friends when I got transferred to his platoon twelve months ago.”

She reached out to touch his arm but he shifted away and then started down the front steps ahead of her. Without turning around, he waited for her to join him.

Play it safe, use your head and never, never make a decision out of emotion. Those had been the rules the old Hailey had lived by before Clay died. The new Hailey was a full-grown, twenty-six-year-old woman who lived by a different set of standards. She took risks. Lots of them. Well, not yet. But she would soon. When she boarded a plane to Iraq. Or Afghanistan. Or wherever the mission board sent her.

Deciding to start being brave right now, Hailey marched down the stairs, head held high, and faced Wolf. “I’ll see you at the church in fifteen?”

“Just so we’re clear,” he began. “I’ll meet your missionaries. I’ll listen to their stories, but then you have to let me say what I came to tell you. All of it. Without interruption.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Good. We understand one another.” He turned to leave without speaking another word.

Oh, but she’d caught the grim expression on his face. And the unrelenting tilt of his chin. On the surface, the man looked like a hard, physical specimen ruled by his own prowess. But Captain Wolfson was no knuckle-dragger. He was intelligent, determined and loyal.

He was not going to come around to her way of thinking easily.

Sighing, Hailey watched him head down the sidewalk. Only then did she notice his slight limp. Had he been injured during the attack?

It was possible. After all, he’d been blown up by an IED. The muscles in her stomach twitched at the thought.

Lord, why have You brought this man into my life? Why now?

With effort, she folded her confusion deep inside her and headed toward her own car.

Twenty minutes later, Hailey steered into the parking lot of Faith Community Church of Savannah. A feeling of home washed over her.

Like most modern churches, FCC was a functional collection of brick, glass and steel. But despite its lack of worldly grandeur, Hailey always met the Lord here. Even during the dark days following Clay’s death, she’d found comfort. And peace. Not from the building, but from her church family.

It was her turn to give back to others in need. A spurt of excitement twisted along her spine. She would no longer be on the sidelines, waiting her turn. Soon, she would be in the heart of the action.

Smiling, she exited her car at the same moment a motorcycle roared into the empty spot beside her. The snarl of the engine had her jumping back. Her hand flew to her throat and she flattened herself against her car.

Loud, obnoxious, danger-on-two-wheels—what sort of insane, crazy person rode a steel beast like that?

As soon as the question came to her, she noticed that the person climbing off the bike wore BDUs and tan army boots. Even before he removed his helmet, she knew whose face she’d see.

Didn’t she already recognize the powerful set of Wolf’s shoulders and the way he favored his left leg?

There was something so familiar about the man, something that made her feel both safe and uneasy at the same time.

Maybe it was because he reminded her of Clay.

Or…maybe not.

She took in a steadying breath and sighed. She might tell herself she liked the artistic type, she might even believe it in her head, but Captain Wolfson was a man. A warrior. A bona fide hero in BDUs.

It was hard not to be attracted to him.

Her twenty-six years of safe existence hadn’t prepared her for someone like him, someone who made her question everything she’d ever known about herself and the very real need in the world around her.