"So why's her car still here?"
"She was too upset to drive, thank you very much for your help yesterday. I already took her home." His home, but Bronco didn't need to know that, and forget asking him to help trade out Lori's car now. Gray stared out his open bedroom door, his eyes attracted like a guilty magnet to the closed guest room across the hall.
"You took her home? What the hell were you thinking?"
"Your concern is downright touching."
"Hey, I'm a sensitive guy."
Gray snorted on a laugh that set his leg on fire again. He bit back a groan.
"Are you okay?"
"Charley horse. Gotta go. See you in a few."
Bronco's reply faded as Gray dropped the phone in the cradle. Time to haul his sorry butt out of bed and face Lori's wrath when she realized he hadn't taken her home.
Gray untied his boots and eased them off, careful not to jar his leg. He stood, unzipped his flight suit and shook it free before dropping back to rest on the edge of the bed.
Bit by painful bit, he peeled the fabric from his thigh and tossed aside the ruined uniform. Bracing one foot on his knee, he evaluated the back of his calf. Not too bad. Specks of asphalt mixed in with the shrapnel. Hurt like hell, but he should be able to pick free what didn't soak out in the shower.
He only had to put in a half day with debrief and wasn't scheduled at the base clinic. A call to check on Magda's condition would clear his work commitments. Then he could crash on his deck for a beer and a nap in the sun.
After he took Lori home.
His dream came roaring back like the exploding tarmac.
How the hell was he going to figure out how to put the past to rest for good this time?
Maybe he should start with a simpler, less painful task, like digging shrapnel out of his leg.
Chapter 5
She couldn't decide what would be simpler, climbing out the apartment window and hitching a ride clear across Charleston or facing Gray again. Morning sun sliced through the miniblinds as Lori tucked her knees to her chest.
Gray hadn't taken her home, but then, she hadn't stayed awake long enough to give him her street address. She knew better than to blame him for not waking her. A category-five hurricane couldn't have roused her.
Of course, he could have looked in her purse, a little voice spurred her.
Her conscience silenced the little voice in no time flat. Gray had no doubt been equally as exhausted, and she'd been selfish enough depending on him.
She pressed her back against the daybed corner in Gray's guest room, the room he set aside for his family and friends. Were they friends now? Or would they say goodbye for good? Which would be harder … never seeing him again or having to face him in a platonic way, watching other women pass in and out of his life?
The bedside clock flashed eleven o'clock. She eyed the door. Was he still in his big bed? A bed she'd shared more than once.
A clump of lank hair fell in Lori's face. She probably looked like a worn-out hag, exactly how she felt. All thoughts of vanity aside, no woman wanted her ex seeing her looking like this, with wrinkled clothes, dirty hair and undoubtedly bloodshot eyes.
Time to go home through the front door—after a speedy dash into the bathroom.
Lori flung aside the navy comforter. If only her memories could be so easily discarded.
Damn it, she'd been fine two days ago. Or had she? Work dominated her life and had for a year, no relationships, only superficial friendships.
Resolutely she squashed self-doubts. She was content—happy—with her life. She certainly preferred her new job to her prior one with the state. Career building demanded focus, and focusing on her career helped her stop thinking about Major Grayson Clark.
Lori padded to the door, peeked out at the empty hallway and listened. A shower swooshed from behind Gray's bedroom door.
No way would she let her thoughts wander there.