My Kind of Wonderful(91)

Instead, he found several paddleboards leaning against the side of the cabin and decided, What the hell. He took one out onto the water, paddling himself into oblivion so that maybe he’d sleep that night instead of figuring out how to reach out to his family after all this time now that he was on leave, or thinking about the reason he’d been given a month of bereavement leave in the first place.


The next morning, Jacob woke up to find his arms pleasantly sore from all the paddleboarding he’d done to clear his head. The chilly June air sliced through the window he’d left open and right through him as well, sharp and pine scented. From flat on his back he could see a sliver of the lake, the surface littered with white caps, much rougher and choppier than it had been the past few days.

He lay there a minute, unable to shut off his mind. It kept flashing images. Images of his closest friend, Brett, dying in his arms in the desolate wasteland that was Afghanistan. Images of the look on his twin’s face when they’d fought that long-ago day. Jacob hadn’t seen Hud since. Images of his mom, who with her dementia couldn’t keep time or place or people straight but never forgot who he was.

Even Red had somehow wormed her way in; tough and snarky, yet she’d shown him a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability too. The combination had caught his interest.

And attracted him.

Not that he had time to go there. Nope, he was concentrating all his energy on figuring out how to approach his family. Day three and he was still drawing a big zero on that front. He’d given no advance warning of his arrival because, hell, what did one say after nearly a decade of radio silence?

But today was the day. He’d stalled enough. And at the thought of what lay ahead for him, his gut tightened.

Nerves. Crazy, since it’d been a damn long time since he’d been nervous about anything.

He rolled out of bed, showered, dressed, and headed out, once again on the hunt for food he didn’t have to make himself. Halfway to his truck he glanced through the clump of trees lining his property to the lake.

The Lucas was back, moored on his dock again.

Changing directions, he headed down there and eyed the boat. No sign of Red, but he heard something from below deck. A… moan?

Walk away, soldier.

But hell. He couldn’t do it. “Hello?” he called out. “Red?”

The ensuing silence was so thick that he could tell she’d stopped breathing. “I’m boarding,” he said and when she didn’t respond, hoping she wasn’t aiming a gun his way, he went for it. As he did, she struggled above deck.

She wore a white tank top and a short, flowery skirt that flirted with her thighs. She had a forest-green sweater in one hand and a pair of high-heeled sandals dangling from the other.

With one look, she perfectly conveyed her annoyance as she sagged to the captain’s chair and dropped her head to her knees. “Why you?” she moaned. “I mean, seriously, what the hell is up with my karma? It’s like the bitch went on vacay. On another planet.”

“Nice to see you again too,” he said dryly. “You wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” she said to her knees, more than a little hint of the South in her tone. “I always talk to my knees while a stranger asks me twenty questions. Nope, I’m great. My glass is totally half-full.”

This made him smile. Call him sick but he loved snark on a woman. “Are you okay?”

“Fan-fricking-tastic. Only way today could get better is if I was scheduled for an appendectomy. Without drugs. In a third-world country.”

Snark and a bad ’tude, like she wouldn’t hesitate to kick someone’s ass if she needed to. Didn’t get hotter than that. He crouched next to her so that he was level with her face, not that he could see it since it was still pressed into her legs. “You’re not supposed to—”

“—moor here,” she said, very carefully not moving a single inch. “Yes, you ever so helpfully mentioned that yesterday.”

“I was going to say you’re not supposed to look down when you’re seasick, it makes it worse.”

“Oh.” She hesitated and then turned her head to look at him. “And you’re not supposed to be nice when I’m not. But thanks—oh crap. Oh shit,” she whispered miserably as the boat rocked.

Jacob instinctively reached out and rubbed a hand over her back. “Have you tried Dramamine?”

“Yes. It doesn’t work. I’m getting a patch today.”

“That’ll help,” he said.

She nodded and sat up. “I’m sorry I’m back here. I just need to stay docked for the day, okay? I know the cabin’s for sale and no one lives there, so I don’t see a problem with that.”

Other than she was getting off without having to pay the fees, which he suspected she couldn’t afford. “Just so you know, the cabin’s no longer empty,” he said, fully intending to also say that she could keep her boat on his dock as long as she needed.

But she made a sound that might have been a snort of laughter or a sob. A little terrified it was the latter, he rose up to his full height just as she gasped, then moaned, and… threw up.

An inch from his shoes.

Welcome home, he thought.


Find more at

http://jillshalvis.com/books/nobody-but-you/