Page 3 of Blissful Vixen

“Hold on a second.” He came to the door, and when he opened it, I didn’t expect this beautiful dark-brown warrior to appear.

His face was scarred, unlike the recent pictures I’d seen of him. There was a gash at his eyebrow where the hair refused to grow back. Another traced along his left eye, then down his cheek, ending at his lip. It made his face appear more serious and no-nonsense. Even when he smiled, it seemed as if he was grimacing at me. And I loved it.

I stood still, trying not to trace the scar with gentle finger touches.

“Emberlynn.” He grunted out my name as if it was necessary to say.

I was too dumbfounded to respond right away. Too awestruck to chime in with good intentions. This was where I was supposed to confess why I was there. I needed to explain to him that I couldn’t stay. We couldn’t have a chance to get to know each other because…

“Come in, queen.” He opened the door fully and beckoned me inside.

Following his lead, I entered the apartment, and he closed the door behind me. His scent seemed to cover the entire space. It reminded me of the ocean, a soft and gentle breeze followed by waves pushing up to shore.

He took my bags and showed me the room he’d set up for me. As I followed him, I saw a scar just behind his ear. It was thicker than the one on his face but just as beautiful. I also noticed that he had a bit of a limp, too.

I wonder if he got them while serving.

He’d given me the main bedroom, and it was exquisite. Sheer white curtains draped around the bed, canopying it like a bed of clouds. The Chesters were made of mahogany and added depth to the room. White tall curtains lined the windows from ceiling to floor, giving me a picture-perfect view of the city below.

“Where did you find out about this place?” I asked, turning in circles. There was a futon in front of the window, where I sat comfortably.

“A friend of mine has a lease that ends at the end of the month. He’s away, so he’s letting me crash here until then. Afterward, I’ll probably go to Florida, where my best friend lives, to try to start over.” He rolled my luggage into the expansive walk-in closet.

“I–ah–need to get back to my call. Welcome to the Fitzpatrick Place. If you can give me ten minutes, I promise that I’ll be a better host.”

I nodded, lost at what to say. He was having a miserable time with whatever was happening, making me feel even more guilty about leaving.

When he didn’t return after twenty minutes, I stood and walked out into the living room to see him sitting on the couch with clasped hands.

“Everything okay?” I asked though it was obvious that it wasn’t.

“If I was smart, I’d lie to you. Tell you that I had my shit together, but I guess I don’t.” Honest eyes looked up at me for a second before his gaze dropped back to his large hands.

They fit his body structure. He was easily 6’4”, making me feel petite at my 6’0” height. He was stocky, though toned. Instead of sitting, he had folded into himself.

“Then tell me how you don’t have it together.” I sat beside him. “I can handle the truth. Respect it even more.” Lord, I sure knew I couldn’t judge.

“My physical therapists who showed up today were a bust. I don’t know what those young girls were expecting when they arrived, but I know they didn’t do any work. I need that daily workout to keep my leg strong. It relieves the aches that like to settle in.”

“I kind of overheard when I arrived. Are they going to do something about it?”

“No, they said they don’t have anybody that can come and see me for another two days. They were so in a rush to leave that she left her binder and stuff here.”

“Where?” I searched the living room with my eyes but came up short.

“Kitchen table.”

“Do you mind if I take a look?”

“No.” He leaned back onto the couch, silently pouting his man pout.

I found the binder and looked inside for a quick summary of his case—shrapnel injury. There was a list of exercises for her to perform on him and some practice ones that he’d do alone.

I brought the file over to where he sat. “These look easy enough. If you’re willing to try them out, we can do it right here on the floor.”

I disappeared to the hall closet, where I found a thick duvet for him to lie on. I returned, moved the table over, and spread it for him. “Want to?”

He stared at me for a minute before he agreed. He stood up, and I helped him into the flat position on the floor.

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