Searching for Winslet (Fallport Rescue Operations #5)

Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Jett sat at the small kitchen table, palming a mug of coffee and staring at sleeping beauty who certainly knew how to snore. Then again, if he’d packed away as much tequila as she had, he probably would have sounded like a grizzly, too.

At least she hadn’t gotten sick in her sleep. That had been his biggest fear, and he would wake nearly every thirty minutes to check on her. He always found it comical that both Kiki and Becky had referred to him as inattentive. Uncaring. Cold even. He knew he could come off as dry. He definitely had an odd sense of humor.

But he did care.

It was showing it in the ways they demanded that had been the hard part.

He swiped at the screen on his iPad, shocked she hadn’t woken when he’d left to get the gadget. While there were plenty of reading materials, he wanted to learn more about her family history, specifically her grandparents, but more importantly, he wanted to google her.

Perhaps that made him a creeper. Stalker. Or an all-around jerk.

His ex-wife thought he never cared enough about her thoughts or feelings. That he took her for granted. She would never accuse him of not being a gentleman in the sense that he always opened doors for her, remembered their anniversary, and brought her flowers. And when they were dating, he paid for everything.

But Kiki had told him after a few months of living together, that his grand gesture of remembering to put the toilet seat down regularly meant shit when he couldn’t be bothered to ask her about her day and actually listen as if he cared. The thing was, he did care. He just didn’t care about the color of her nails. Or if she should cut her hair shorter or let it grow. And the one time he did comment, she’d been so pissed, she told him to sleep on the sofa.

Of course, a friend mentioned, after the fact, that telling his wife he liked her hair better longer, after she’d chopped it off, wasn’t winning any brownie points. The time for bringing that up might have been when she asked for his opinion three weeks before.

But it was her hair. His opinion shouldn’t matter. However, because of all the fights over these stupid little things, he thought maybe he should be honest.

That hadn’t worked. He couldn’t win.

He focused his attention on the article Winslet had written regarding some case she’d solved for the FBI. Impressive, though he didn’t understand half of it. He had to look up at least ten words already that she’d used in the article regarding forensics and anthropology, and he still didn’t really get it.

The girl was mad wicked smart.

Made him feel like a dope. He could stitch up a guy with his guts hanging out in the field. He knew more about human anatomy than the average person. But he didn’t know dick compared to Winslet.

A groan echoed through the tiny studio apartment. He glanced over the iPad and watched Winslet stretch and roll.

She had to be the prettiest girl he’d ever laid eyes on, even with her hair in a tangled mess and last night’s makeup smudged on her face.

He chuckled.

“What the hell?” She clutched the sheets, bolted to an upright position, and moaned like a dying cow.

That shouldn’t be sexy, but damn if it was.

“I wouldn’t move that quickly if I were you,” he said.

“Why are you here?” She brushed her hair from her face and rubbed her temples. “I should call the police.”

“But you won’t.” He swiped at the screen of his tablet, closing out the browser, and stood. “Would you like some coffee?” He lifted his empty mug. “And maybe some greasy hangover food?”

“Yes, and yes,” she said. “Did you sleep here?”

He nodded.

“Where?” she asked with wide eyes.

“On the sofa.” He pointed to the tiny couch next to the fireplace. For a studio, it wasn’t horrible. It had to be about five hundred square feet. Enough for a bed, a couple pieces of furniture for a makeshift living room. The kitchen was small but had enough space for a table and two chairs.

“Well, aren’t you the gentleman,” she mumbled. “But not really. You should have left me to sleep it off alone.”

“I couldn’t do that. Not after watching you make love to the porcelain god.” He stuffed a pod in the coffee maker and pressed the button after placing a large mug in the proper spot. He leaned against the counter and folded his arms across his chest. “I was honestly worried you might get sick in your sleep.”

“I wasn’t that bad.” She swung her legs to the side and gripped the mattress. “Okay, so maybe I was.” She leaned back on the pillows, covering her eyes with her forearm. “But now you can leave me to suffer my embarrassment alone.”

“After I feed you. Now, what would you like? You have the fixings for eggs or maybe French Toast.”

“There’s a breakfast sandwich maker in the cupboard. But I can manage my own food.”

“Yeah. Right. I don’t think you’ll be doing much of anything today but lying in that bed and binge-watching television.” He found the appliance she described. He’d seen one of these things before. He and Kiki had gotten one as a wedding present, though he’d never actually used it himself. It couldn’t be that hard. Kiki had made him more than one sandwich in it. She would send him off to the base with one wrapped in foil. She was good about things like that. Too good. Sometimes it was stifling. To him, marriage was a partnership. With Kiki, it felt like he’d been transported back to the fifties. He pulled out all the ingredients necessary and plugged in the machine.

“Since I don’t have the strength to argue with you and I really want that food, would you mind handing me my purse? I need to check my messages and charge my cell.”

“Sure.” Once he had everything he needed in the little sandwich machine, he set his timer, then strolled across the room, snagged her purse, and set it gently on the bed. “Zeke texted me this morning asking how you were.”

“I hope you didn’t tell him you spent the night here.”

“He’d be pissed if I had left you alone, so of course I did.”

“Fucking wonderful.” She dug into her purse, tapped her screen, and groaned. “It’s dead.” She leaned to the side and set it on her charger.

“Probably a good thing. You mumbled a few times as you were falling asleep about how you needed to stay away from your phone. Something about not texting or calling that prick.”

“I don’t think I want to know what I might have told you last night.”

“Not that much, but enough.” His timer went off. He made his way back to the kitchen, pulled out a plate, and flipped the sandwich on it. Damn, that was easy. He was going to have to get himself one of these things. It would save him a lot of money. Quickly, he made a second one before bringing her the food and her coffee. “Now that you’re sober, let me say, I’m real sorry about what that jerk did.” He handed her a mug and set the plate on the bed. Easing onto the couch across from her, he sipped his own coffee and nibbled on his sandwich, trying not to allow his physical attraction for a woman he barely knew to cloud his good judgment.

But it wasn’t going to be easy.

It had been a long time since he’d even thought about being with a lady. Before the crash, he had a girlfriend, and he liked her a whole lot. More than most. So much, he found himself thinking crazy thoughts. So, when she freaked out, he couldn’t deny it hurt. But he didn’t put up much of a fight. She’d dumped him while he was at his worst, and he had a bigger war to deal with.

Another surgery. More rehab. More physical and emotional battles. He couldn’t cope with the pain of losing a girl who struggled with his chosen career path anyway.

Since then, his life had been all about gaining his physical strength back and figuring out what to do next. The Army and Special Forces were no longer an option. Not unless he wanted a desk job, and he decided it was time to try his hand at something else.

Women were not on his radar. Not even for a one-night stand. So, he hadn’t even entertained the idea.

Only, if Winslet hadn’t been so wasted last night, he would have thought about it. Hell, he was thinking about it now.

“I’m partially to blame for what happened with Shamus.” Winslet brought the mug to her mouth and blew before taking a slow sip. The way her lips curled over the rim was intoxicating.

What the fuck was his problem?

Perhaps it was going nearly eighteen months without sex.

Or maybe it was watching her sleep for hours.

Jesus, he was an asshole.

“If you didn’t know he was married, I don’t see how,” he said. “When my ex-wife informed me she had been having an affair, my initial reaction was to go find that man and beat the shit out of him. Who did he think he was to sleep with another man’s wife?” He waggled his finger. “But the thing is, he didn’t know at first because Kiki didn’t tell him. It wasn’t until she left me that she clued him in.”

“Are they still together?”

“No,” Jett said. “I don’t know if they broke up because she lied to him about being married or if there were other factors. And it’s not my business. She and I weren’t going to stay married regardless. She was miserable and I was a shit husband. I can admit that. But my point is, I can’t blame him for something he didn’t know.”

“Maybe. However, I should have seen the signs. They were right there in front of me. The secrecy. The backpedaling when I started committing to the relationship.” She set her mug on the nightstand. “I have to wonder if he chose me because I didn’t want to get married or have children.”

Jett arched a brow. “I take it that changed.”

Her cell dinged as it powered on. She glanced toward it and audibly groaned. “I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“I’ve got no skin in this game.” He polished off the rest of his breakfast, stood, and eased onto the bed, fluffing the pillow.

She glared.

“We don’t know each other. We have no history, and believe me, I’m not judging. Of all the women I’ve dated in my life, I can only say I’ve had two real relationships and both of them, I was a dick in different ways. Both were doomed more because of me first, then them.”

“Are you trying to tell me you understand Shamus? Because I can’t for the life of me figure him out.” She pointed to her cell. “Or why after months of not hearing from him, he’s all of a sudden texting and calling, telling me we need to talk. He’s relentless.”

“No. I can’t comprehend what he did. I’ve never cheated on anyone. I’m not that guy.” He tapped her knee. “I have broken up with women because I became interested in someone else, so that makes me an asshole.”

“An honest asshole.” She laughed. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“The girl who dumped you after the crash, what was her problem? I mean, that’s a shit thing to do. It feels like she kicked you when you were down.”

He glanced toward the ceiling. He wasn’t bitter over Becky dumping him, and on some level, he understood her reason and certainly her emotions behind it. “Becky already struggled with my military career. Not everyone is cut out to be involved with someone in the Army. But I was Special Forces. I was often deployed more than I was Stateside. I couldn’t talk about my missions. It wasn’t like we could go out to dinner when I returned home and chat about the things that I did. But that crash was personal for her.”

“I would say so. Her boyfriend nearly died.”

“It was more than that. Her brother was a news correspondent in the area. He was covering a story. I didn’t know he was on the ground. I also didn’t know that he was one of the people we were going in to evacuate and rescue. He died that day, and she ended up blaming me for his death.” He leaned over and pressed his finger over Winslet’s plump lips. He was going to have to do something to squelch his attraction. It wasn’t good for either of them. “At first, she didn’t. Or at least she tried not to. Especially when the doctors told me that it was possible I might not ever walk again. But as I improved and made great progress, she started resenting me. After I was officially awarded a medal for saving two lives that day, she lost her shit because I couldn’t save her brother. Thing was, the helicopter went down miles before that extraction point. He was dead before we even got close. I know I’m not responsible. But she’ll always blame me and the two other survivors. There isn’t anything I can do about that.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re too accepting of things?”

He chuckled. “More like selfish. I was facing more surgeries. It was still a major uphill battle. I didn’t have it in me to fight for her. For us. What does that say about how I really felt about her?”

“Where is she now?”

“Back home. But I haven’t kept tabs on her. I focused on my recovery. I haven’t spoken to her in months.” He waggled his finger. “You’re very good at changing the subject.”

“I have been told that a time or two.”

“Your turn.” He tucked a few stray strands of her silky hair behind her ears. “Why are you taking responsibility for Shamus’ poor decisions?”

“I’m not. At least not him cheating on his wife. When we first got together, it was at a conference. Then we started applying for the same guest lectures.” She dropped her gaze to her lap. “I got offered a dig in Africa, but I needed more than my own team. I told him about it, and he jumped on it. That’s when things changed. We were away for three months. We talked about what a future together could look like. We made fucking plans. But when we got back to the States, he started making excuses. His mom was sick. Or his brother was going through stuff. I was working a case with the FBI out in Seattle, and he was teaching in Colorado, but it wasn’t a full-time gig, and he told me he wanted to stop running around. To settle down somewhere and he applied for a professorship.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I keep telling myself that he’s the one who told me about the guest lecture spot, but in reality, I’m the one who found it. He didn’t tell me not to do it, but he did tell me he was worried that I wasn’t the kind of person who would be happy only teaching. He didn’t want me there. A couple of times he pushed digs he’d heard about in my face, but always with the idea that he’d support me. God, I was such a fool.”

Jett tilted her chin with his thumb and gazed into her eyes. What he saw was less hurt and more shame. “No. Unfortunately, love is blind.” He let out a long sigh. “I always say that I didn’t fight for Kiki because I didn’t love her enough. Or that I loved my career more. The latter might be partially true. If she had ever asked me to give that up—to choose between her and the Army—I’m pretty sure I would have chosen my dog tags. But the reality of that relationship is I was blind to her needs. I thought because I loved her, I didn’t need to do anything other than be present. I thought remembering her birthday and doing dorky things on Valentine’s Day was enough. But I never saw her for who she was, and I certainly didn’t listen.”

“I find that hard to believe. You’re pretty darn good at it.”

“Let me rephrase.” He ran his thumb across her cheek, removing some of the mascara that had dribbled across her skin during the night. “I can listen all day long. But I never did anything with the information she gave me. For example, when Kiki explained how lonely she was in our marriage, I got her a puppy to keep her company when I was gone. I thought that would solve that problem. I can see now how she wasn’t talking about the time and space when I was deployed but the moments we were in the same house. Hindsight is perfect vision. And while I learned about myself because of those failed relationships, I also learned I’m still a selfish bastard who isn’t going to change, nor do I want to.” He dropped his hand to his lap. “But we’re back to me again.” He pointed to her phone, which was currently vibrating, and Shamus’ name had appeared on the screen. “Would you like me to answer that? It might help to send the message that you don’t want to talk.”

She reached for her cell and tossed it to him. “Sure. Drive the point home. But put it on speaker. I want to hear this.”

“Hello?” He cleared his throat.

“Who is this?” a male voice asked with an indignant tone. “Where’s Winslet?”

“She’s unavailable at the moment,” Jett said. “Actually, she’s unavailable to you forever. So, please stop calling and texting her.”

“Yeah, I’m going to need her to tell me that. So, please, put Winslet on the phone,” Shamus said.

“Sorry. She doesn’t want to speak to you. I’m going to hang?—”

“And you are?”

“Jett. The boyfriend.” He winked.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

At least she didn’t slap him.

“Right. Maybe a rebound one-night stand,” Shamus said. “Tell Winslet to call me. It’s important. And time sensitive. Tell her I need to hear from her in the next couple of days.” The line went dead.

“When hell freezes over will I ever communicate with that man again.” She hopped to her feet. “Oh God. I did that too fast.” She leaned over, pressing her hands on the bed. “It’s going to be a long day.”

“Lucky for you, I have no plans but to binge-watch mindless television with you.”

She stood tall and narrowed her stare. “You’re not my boyfriend and we are not going to lounge around on a lazy Saturday together. Thanks for being a nice guy. But there’s the door.”

“Who’s going to help you stay strong when Shamus calls back? Because we both know he’s going to. He called three times yesterday and I saw a string of texts.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a nosy fuck?” She picked up her pillow and tossed it at his face.

He chuckled. “I can’t say that happens too often.” He raised his hands. “I’ll leave. But on one condition.”

“I’m terrified to hear what this is.”

“You let me cook you dinner tonight. I’ll go buy some nice steaks and we can grill them up and enjoy a good bottle of wine.”

She rubbed her temples. “Not sure my body will be ready for alcohol, but a girl has to eat.” She padded around the bed and stretched out her arm. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to take a nice long bath, read a book, and go back to sleep for a few hours.”

“Oh, that sounds fun. I should join you.” He waggled his brows. Shit. This girl had him running in circles.

“Not.” She patted his chest. “Thanks for everything. I really do appreciate your kindness.”

“Don’t mention it.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I wrote my number on a piece of paper and left it in the kitchen. Call me if you need anything.” He stepped into the hallway and took the ten paces to his front door. He tapped the code on the pad and glanced over his shoulder.

Her door was already shut.

His phone vibrated in his back pocket.

A text from an unknown number that read: So you have mine, Winslet.

He smiled, then quickly frowned. Winslet was exactly the kind of woman he enjoyed. She was strong. Intelligent. Funny as hell. And she was genuinely honest. A breath of fresh air.

Exactly the kind of woman he needed to stay away from.

But something told him he wasn’t going to be able to do that.