Page 1 of Unruly Kris

1

As she drove home from work on a clear day in December, humming along to the radio blaring Dean Martin and with the afternoon sunshine warm on her face, Cath tossed the enigma of the holiday season in California around in her head. It was seventy-five degrees; the sun was shining, and the long-term weather forecast was predicting seasonally high temperatures straight through until the beginning of January. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, let alone the impossible chance of snow. For all intents and purposes, it looked like Christmas Eve and Christmas day were going to be stereotypical for Southern California: for some a literal day at the beach, as opposed to the powdered ski slopes in places like Colorado or Washington State. With the way people were dressed in lighter clothing and sandals, it may as well have been the Fourth of July that was ten days away and not December 25th.

On the flip side of that reality was the fact many of the houses on base were fully kitted out to the nines with lights and decorations; she passed at least a half dozen lots selling trees the last time she drove into town, and more light-up Frosty statues then she could count. There was no lack of holiday spirit; it was evident everywhere, maybe even more so than in states that got true winter weather. It just seemed chaotic, as if it was trying to compensate for the lack of ice and snow with bright lights and Coca-Cola versions of Santa and his minions.

For all the years she had been posted in the Golden State, Cath never managed to get used to the idea that the holidays were a mishmash of warm and cold traditions. Open gifts then go to the beach, decorate a Douglas fir and then a palm tree, go for a hike in the sun kissed Hollywood hills and then sit down to a turkey dinner. Growing up in a warm portion of the country meant she wasn’t a ride or die person on the holiday needing to Hallmark perfect and white, but even growing up in Austin, where it snowed once in a blue moon and the heat in December could be steady, seemed less frenetic. Texans had always been go big or go home in terms of the holidays, and secretly Cath always loved Christmas. The cheer and camaraderie that came with the time of year was infectious and Special Forces, like most of the US military, encouraged its members to get involved in the holiday season.

As she cruised into her neighborhood, she eyed some of the other houses along the block with lights hung. She left work early, taking a half day and leaving by mid-afternoon, dragging a small load of paperwork with her to burn through that evening, but an idea was forming her in head of dinner and a drive around the neighborhood with Kris to see how the houses looked when they were lit to the nines, then home to do some decorating of their own. She’d put her own lights up weeks before, far too early in all honesty, but the opportunity of time presented itself. Given Kris’s accident shortly after, it had probably been a good thing as it was the only thing she had gotten done so far.

She rolled into her driveway and pulled the Lamborghini to a smooth stop, berating herself mentally at how much she secretly enjoyed driving the sports car. Unable to drive himself with one good arm, Kris insisted she take his car to work every day so it wouldn’t just sit in the driveway for her curious neighbors to gawk at. That was almost an impossibility considering no one on base except for a few top generals could have ever afforded a luxury sports car like his, but he had given her such a pleading look she couldn’t refuse him. She had a funny feeling it was his way of showing any naysayers they were firmly blended as a couple and not worthy of their gossip and consideration.

It wasn’t like there hadn’t been enough “attention” when it had become well known that Kris Avery was currently holed up at Black’s place recovering from injuries. If the idea of her and Kris as a couple had set tongues wagging across the base, the idea she was taking care of him while he was recovering caused those same tongues to hit the floor. Half the female officers and some of the male ones were so jealous they were barely speaking to her, and the other half were keeping an eagle eye on her house for any sign of Kris they could get.

The day before he had gone out in the morning to grab the paper clad in his pajama pants and a robe, and nearly caused a three-car pile-up because the early school run of spouses had been more focused on the sight of his bare chest than the street they were driving down. He’d come back in the house and crawled back into bed chuckling as he described the wide-eyed look on the driver’s face as he gave her a friendly wave and casually strolled back inside. Cath rolled her eyes as she settled back amongst the blankets sipping her coffee but inwardly, she smiled, admitting to herself a brief feeling of victory he was withher,inherbed and it was apparent to the insular world of Camp Pendleton they hadn’t been just a flash in the pan as many had predicted.

Opening the front door, she tossed her work satchel and gym bag into the foyer and stepped inside, letting it slide shut behind her as she began to work off her boots. She could hear the blaring strains of David Bowie coming from the back of the house towards her bedroom and office, and directed her steps there, undoing her jacket as she walked and tossing over the back of the newly acquired lazy boy in her living room. She stopped and shook her head briefly, marveling as she had several times lately, at how quickly, in just four and a half short weeks, the space that once been just solely hers had somehow blended to being more theirs then anything. It started small, his clothes with hers in the closet and dresser, his products taking up all the available space in her small bathroom, a particular blend of gourmet coffee in the cupboard, and had gotten larger as time progressed. She worked from home the first two weeks until he was tentatively up on his feet, then at his insistence, she went back to her normal office routine. The first day he had truly been alone and bored, she came home to a new large flat screen television in her living room, followed the next by a brand-new stereo system. The very one currently playingRebel Rebelloud enough to cause her to feel sorry for both his eardrums and her neighbors and the lazy boy, and a gaming system that she was certain would cost most Privates a month’s salary.

With anyone else she would have been utterly livid at what she would have perceived as an encroachment of her personal space. When that hadn’t occurred, she first tried to convince herself she couldn’t begrudge him comfort and ways to entertain himself while he was recovering away from home. As the days passed, she finally grudgingly admitted to herself that with Kris, it didn’t feel as though he was trying to take over, it felt more like he had always been there.

There had been a slightly strung out feeling lately wasn’t from the amount of space Kris was taking up in her small house - it was from the fact shelikedit way more than she ever would have expected. She liked him being there when she came home from work, making dinner with him, watching TV at night and drinking coffee in bed in the mornings she didn’t have to be in ass early... the whole shebang. She never thought she would ever allow herself this experience. In her almost ten years in the military, she lived in three apartments, two houses, one condo and a dorm, and they had all been serviceable, nice even, but she never felt like any of them was home. Until now.

“Kris, I’m back!” she called, waiting to see if she got a response over the loud music. After a moment of waiting with no response, she moved down the hall past her office and towards the location of where the music was coming from, the small area she marked off as a training space. It was really a guest room, complete with an L-shaped pullout couch, but it had never really gotten used for anything aside from housing a ratty punching bag, her treadmill, and a bench with various weights. Since she normally preferred to work out at the fully tricked out gym closer to her office, the equipment was seldom used and the closest the pullout couch had ever been to a bed was the first night that Kris came home from the hospital. Considering how beat up he had been, and afraid she would bump him in the night, Cath insisted he take her bed and she took the pullout. It lasted for approximately half the night, until she had been woken up by him climbing into the bed with her and cuddling as close as he could safely with a sleepy “Too far away. I missed you.” The next evening, they slept as normal, albeit much more carefully and with extra pillows to cushion his injuries.

Cath walked into the room and stopped, raising an eyebrow as she leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest in a wry gesture. Kris was on the treadmill, clad only in a pair of dark blue workout pants and the dog tags he received when he signed his contract as a Special Forces instructor. His left arm was still tucked high against his chest in the black sling he had come home from the hospital in. He was walking slowly, a bit stiff but at a solid pace, the sheen of sweat on his shoulders telling her he had been going steady for a while. For a moment, she couldn’t help but take in how sexy he looked, well-toned and gorgeous, the muscular shape of his back and shoulders causing a low heat to flare over her body. From the side angle she was standing at in the doorway she could just catch a glimpse of where the flat plain of his stomach disappeared into the faded workout pants, and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to run her hands down it and further. That thought was immediately tempered by guilt as she realized he was holding his body coiled tightly, a sign at the very least that even the sedate workout was causing him discomfort.

Straightening up in concern, she padded into the room and headed for the stereo, turning it down to a reasonable notch, and finally catching his attention as the volume came down. She approached him slowly with a raised eyebrow and a “you’re busted mister” look on her face.

“Caught you red handed.” She watched as he hit the pause button on the treadmill and waited for it to stop.

“Guess that means you’ll have to punish me.” He wiggled an eyebrow suggestively and then winced, leaning against the arm of the machine with a frustrated snort. “Or maybe not.”

“Should you be doing that?” She asked gently, passing him a towel so he could wipe off. “I thought the doctor hadn’t cleared you for workouts yet.”

“She said I could try basic cardio; walking is about as basic as you can get.” He tossed the towel over the arm of the treadmill, stepping off carefully, and slid his free hand under her tank top, settling warmly around the curve of her hip. “And you won’t let me take on any real heart racing workouts.”

“You’re on the injured list,” she said with a slight scowl. She leaned up and kissed him, slow and sweet, feeling her body respond instinctively to the touch of his hand. “And I don’t want to be responsible for breaking you again.”

“To hell with responsibility,” he said, nipping her lower lip. “It’s highly overrated, especially when I’ve got my incredibly sexy girlfriend in my arms.”

“That’s the story of your life if I’ve ever heard it,” she said dryly with a chuckle.

“I don’t know.” He pressed a trail of kisses to her neck, grazing the skin lightly. “It seems to be going pretty damn good right now.”

2

Cath leaned her head back, soaking in the sensation of his lips on her skin and wanted nothing more than to take him by the hand, walk the short distance down the hall to what she was quickly beginning to think of astheirbedroom, and spend the rest of the afternoon playing in bed with him. It had been a long four and a half weeks since they had been able to have sex and she knew he was feeling it as much as she was. Still, as distracting as the low throbbing between her legs was, as much as she wanted him, she wasn’t going to let him hurt himself trying.

“Easy playboy, don’t push yourself.” She pulled back, reaching up to stroke his cheek. From the look in his eyes, she could see that was exactly what he was doing, and she couldn’t blame him. When you worked hard to keep in shape and stay at top form, anything less was a piss off and a half. If she had been in his situation, she’d have been pushing herself as well. Hell, she’d have been climbing the walls and setting fires if she had to sit on the sidelines as long as he was expected to. “How did the call with your agent go today?”

“Just like we expected.” Kris gave a disgusted snort, and rolled his eyes, as he stepped away, grabbing his water bottle and taking a pull off it. “The studio is pushing to get us back on track, and on set as fast as they can after the holidays.”

“Even when chances are you won’t be fully recovered?” Cath couldn’t keep the incredulous tone out of her voice. Score another point towards the growing list of reasons she disliked the Hollywood matrix.

“They offered to do a rewrite, work the injuries into the story so we can get moving. They even offered to bring in a top physiotherapist if I am willing to work myself double time.” He sat down the weight bench gingerly, leaning his head back against the wall in fatigue. “Not to mention a hefty bank bonus.”

“Unbelievable.” Cath leaned against the wall again, her disgust palpable. “The doctortheyprovided said it would take 6 to 10 weeks for you to heal completely, how can they ignore that?”

“It’s all about the money.” Kris reached, taking her hand and pulling her closer until she was standing in front of him. “It’s a pretty tight circle. They invest in me taking a quality picture to make them money, I make a quality picture for them to get money and repeat cycle. If I’m not on set, we both lose out.”

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