Uncle Sarge. Bonnie GardnerЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Chapter Three

      Rich was glad he’d asked Jennifer to come with him. The way his mind had wandered all the way home, he suspected he’d have more likely run off the rain-slick highway than gotten home safely. And, he liked the idea that Jennifer seemed to care about what happened to him.

      In no time the trip was over.

      They passed the brightly lit gate of Hurlburt Air Force Base and continued on toward Fort Walton Beach. With rush hour long over, most of the traffic was headed for the Island where the tourists stayed. The roads were nearly empty now, and the going was easy. A few more minutes and they’d reach Jennifer’s office, she could pick up her car and he could go home.

      Trouble was, he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to go home to that empty apartment. Ski, his roommate, was on temporary duty, and though he’d rejoiced at finally being eligible to live off base, there were times when he missed the noise and camaraderie of living in the dormitories.

      “We’re here,” Jennifer said quietly and roused him from his introspection.

      Rich looked around. The street was dark and desolate, and the only sign of life was a man of questionable sobriety lurching down the sidewalk. “Where’s your car?” he asked, suddenly realizing that his truck was the only vehicle on the block.

      “In the alley around back. We try to keep the spots in front free for customers,” Jennifer replied matter-of-factly as she pulled up to the curb.

      Rich eyed the drunk, then assessed the situation again. “No way in hell I’m letting you walk down that dark alley by yourself at this time of night.” He pushed open his door as Jennifer opened hers.

      She stopped halfway between the running board and the sidewalk, hovering above the curb like a butterfly in flight. “Excuse me.” She lowered herself the rest of the way to the ground. “You won’t let me walk down that alley? Who gave you the right to give me permission to do anything?”

      Unprepared for the venom in Jennifer’s voice, Rich stepped back. He hadn’t meant anything by it. He’d just…Hell, he didn’t know what he meant. He drew in a deep breath.

      “No insult to your ability to take care of yourself intended, but I feel bad about bringing you out this late at night. At least, let me see you safely to your car.” He nodded toward the drunk, who seemed more alert than before and was unabashedly watching them. “Maybe that guy is harmless, but I sure would hate to wake up in the morning and read that you’d been attacked.”

      Truth was, Jennifer had been too aware of Rich’s potently masculine presence to notice the other man. This wasn’t the safest part of town, especially this late at night, and now that she’d seen the drunk, she wouldn’t feel comfortable in that alley. “Thank you,” she finally said. “I’m just a little touchy about that ‘little woman’ thing. In most cases I can take care of myself, but I do appreciate the thought.”

      “Anytime,” Rich muttered, and Jennifer couldn’t help wondering if she’d threatened his manhood. Those special tactics guys were nothing if not macho. They took pride in their strength and toughness.

      Too much pride, she thought, if her ex-husband was any example. They shoved every bit of anything they perceived as softness away. They might have seen all the posturing as an advantage, but Jennifer knew that if her ex had been slightly more sensitive to her feelings and needs, she wouldn’t be scraping for a living in this seedy section of this military town.

      On the other hand, she thought, as she allowed Rich to take her by the elbow and escort her across the street, she wouldn’t be standing here with this man’s man, now.

      Her breath caught. How could she be thinking about that? Rich was no different than her ex: all muscle and macho and very little thought.

      But as Rich stood watch while she fumbled in her purse for her keys, Jennifer couldn’t help wishing this were a date. And, it had been a long time since she’d felt this way about any man.

      Keys in hand, she looked up at him. What would it be like to close her eyes, press against that magnificent huge body and feel his mouth on hers? She moistened her lips, and her eyelids drifted downward.

      Rich took her keys and broke the spell. He opened the car door and waited while she slid behind the wheel, then inserted the key into the ignition. He watched to be certain that she locked the doors and stood guard until she backed out of the alley toward the street.

      She idled at the curb and watched through her rearview mirror as he strode purposefully out of the dark side street and across to his truck. Then, after he’d shut his door behind him, she steered her car toward home.

      Jennifer sighed. She hadn’t even thought about dating since her divorce, but something about Rich made her think about rumpled sheets and hot, sweaty sex.

      No, she told herself firmly and shook her head. She had finished her business with Rich. Unless he decided to come in and pay his bill in person, she’d never see him again.

      And, as far as her heart was concerned, that was probably just as well.

      RICH STOOD in the middle of the parachute shop, cluttered with stacks of equipment and materiel unloaded from the C-130 transport plane that had brought him back to base. He wiped his sweating forehead with the back of his arm. He looked down with disgust at the dark, damp smear, but there was nothing he could do about it. He had to get all the stuff stowed in the equipment locker before he could even think about getting out of these stinking clothes and into a cool shower.

      The last few weeks had been so busy that Rich had barely had a chance to think. He’d made several trips to Pensacola to see his sister and had finally begun to believe he was getting to know her again.

      Then he’d had to fly off on a long exercise, and he was probably back at square one.

      After the first couple of visits with Sherry, the reserve between them had lifted. She still appeared sad sometimes, but Rich had learned how to dash the sadness away. All he had to do was ask her about her children.

      On her better days, the sense of humor Rich hadn’t seen since they were kids would make an appearance. When he saw that, it was possible to believe that Sherry would get through it.

      He hadn’t met the kids yet, and frankly, that didn’t bother him much. There was an ops saying that he subscribed to wholeheartedly. He loved kids: barbecued.

      Maybe that wasn’t really the truth, but the thought of dealing with such tiny little beings scared him spitless. He figured he’d rather parachute into a nest of rattlers than have to deal one-on-one with a four-year-old. He hadn’t really known any kids since he’d stopped being one himself, and now they seemed so…so small. Someday, he’d like to meet his niece and nephew. That thought stopped him. Niece and nephew. He was an uncle. He swabbed at his eyes, stinging with sweat and grime from the long trip.

      “Hey, Sarge.”

      Rich looked up and chuckled, relieved by the distraction. Uncle Sarge. That had a kinda nice ring to it. “Yeah. What?” he said to the peach-fuzzed, admin clerk only recently assigned to his unit.

      “You going to the Labor Day picnic out by the Sound? We’ve got to win back the volleyball trophy from the P J’s.”

      Rich had to chuckle. Baker had been with the unit all of two months. He had no bragging rights to win back from the pararescue jumpers. Rich did, but he had something else to do this weekend. Rebecca Tucker was getting married, and he’d been invited. It was to be Sherry’s first excursion out of the hospital. And the kids would be there.