Page 21

Spitting out a mouthful of toothpaste and froth, he leaned down and picked up his wrinkled-beyond-belief flight suit and hung it on the towel rack next to the shower. He turned on the water, then used the toilet while he waited for it to heat.

He was forced to use Laryn’s shampoo, as well as her shower gel—which he saw was called Sugar Cookie—and he smiled at the thought of smelling like her.

Some men would be turned off by that, but not Casper.

He was secure in his masculinity. And besides, who didn’t like cookies?

There were worse things he could smell like. Had smelled like.

By the time he stepped out of the shower, he felt a hundred percent better.

More stable. But now he needed answers. Answers only Laryn could provide.

He pulled his underwear back on and zipped up his flight suit—wishing he had a pair of comfy jeans and a T-shirt right about now—then hung up the towel he’d used and opened the bathroom door.

Laryn stood in her kitchen and sipped the cup of coffee she’d poured herself.

She’d changed into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.

Not because she was cold, but because she felt as if she needed to put on some armor.

Last night had been…well, frankly it had been a dream come true.

Sleeping in Tate’s arms had satisfied a long-held dream she’d had since she’d started working with him, as well as fulfilling an innate desire to be needed.

And there was no denying that Tate had needed her last night.

Every time she woke up and tried to scoot out from under him, he’d gotten extremely agitated.

He only calmed when she continued to let him hold her.

At one point, he’d rolled Laryn onto her side—effortless for him, even in his sleep—and then curled against her backside, spooning her, and nothing had felt more right.

But now in the light of morning, she was going to have to tell him that he’d been roofied. She’d have to explain everything she’d done, and hope like hell he wouldn’t be upset with her for not calling one of his friends, or hell, even the cops.

In hindsight, she felt so stupid. It was likely the drugs wouldn’t be in his system anymore, so there wouldn’t be proof of her story.

Even his friends hadn’t seen him so out of it he could barely stand.

Basically, it was her word against Barb’s.

For all anyone else knew, she was the one who’d drugged him.

They could’ve driven to her place because he’d insisted on staying with her until Altan was investigated.

Then Laryn could have slipped the drug into a drink when they got back to her apartment.

She had no proof at all that Barb had roofied him, other than her instincts and how disoriented he’d been after that shot .

She’d messed up. Big time. She was disappointed in herself. She hadn’t been thinking clearly, had only wanted to get him away from Barb and back to her apartment, where she knew he’d be safe. But her actions meant that he wouldn’t be able to prosecute, and Barb would get away with what she’d done.

She’d worked herself into a ball of anxiety by the time Tate sauntered into her living room. Other than being a bit wrinkled, he looked a thousand times better. More like the man and expert pilot she’d gotten to know over the years.

Which was a relief—and also a letdown. She kind of liked the vulnerable man he’d been with her last night and this morning.

After handing him a steaming cup of coffee, she blurted, “I’m sorry.”

He froze with his cup halfway to his lips, then leaned against the counter opposite where she was standing in the kitchen and took a sip of the hot brew. “This is amazingly good. Much better than the crap they have at the hangar.”

He wasn’t wrong, but Laryn wasn’t in the mood to beat around the bush.

“Last night, Barb put something in your shot. I didn’t see her do it, but she was watching you way too closely and seemed extremely satisfied after you drank it.

You started acting out of it, and when we went to the car, Barb was there, offering to take you home since you were so ‘drunk.’ But you weren’t drunk.

I saw what you had last night, and it wasn’t nearly enough to make you as incoherent as you were.

I know the signs of someone being roofied, and my dad pounded into my head never to drink anything that I didn’t see poured myself.

“I told Barb to fuck off, and then you passed out on the way to my apartment. I got you inside to the bed, and you were pretty much out of it. I didn’t undress you.

You did that yourself. I swear, I didn’t touch you or do anything inappropriate.

I wasn’t going to sleep in the bed with you but in your dazed state, you kind of knocked me over.

You didn’t hurt me,” she rushed to assure him, when he seemed appalled, “but I was basically trapped under you, and I was tired from the trials and the stress of worrying about them, and you and Pyro, and I just fell asleep. Nothing happened, Tate. I swear .”

She was breathing hard by the time she was done. Relieved to get the bulk of the explanation over with. He was sure to have questions, but those would be easier to answer than trying to explain why he’d woken up practically naked in her bed.

Peering up at Tate, she noted he didn’t seem agitated or upset, which was a relief. In fact, he was still leaning against the counter separating her kitchen and living room, drinking his coffee.

“And which part of all that are you apologizing for?” he asked calmly, when she was done word vomiting.

“Well…for not calling one of your friends for help. Not calling the cops. Not beating the shit out of Barb and making her admit to what she did,” Laryn said with a miserable shrug.

Tate set the mug of coffee on the counter, then he pushed off and walked around it, stepping into her personal space. He put his hands on either side of her neck, his thumbs resting on her lower jaw, and tilted her head up even more, so she had no choice but to look him in the eyes.

“Do I look like the kind of man who normally needs taking care of?”

Laryn swallowed hard. She couldn’t read him. Had no idea if he was pissed off at her or what he was getting at with his question. She shook her head as well as she could with Tate’s hands holding her still.

“Right. Ever since my mom left when I was four, I’ve been pretty independent.

My dad brought Nate and I up to think for ourselves.

We had chores to do around the house when we were five.

I was making my own lunches at seven. I had my first job at fourteen, so I could contribute to the household expenses.

When I joined the Army, I was the first one up in the mornings and I always made it a point to help the privates who were struggling.

“When I woke up this morning, I panicked. I had no idea where I was and had no memory of what had happened. Then I turned my head and saw you …and I relaxed. Well, after I fell on my ass. When I had a second to think, I had no doubt that I was safe because you were there. Am I pissed about being drugged? Fuck yes! Am I upset about how you handled it? No. Not even a little.”

“I should’ve called the police.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. You made the decisions you did and I’m here. Safe. Thanks to you.”

“I think she was going to do something horrible,” Laryn whispered.

“I’ve known women like her. My dad told me stories about some of the things that happened to the dirt track drivers.

The good ones. The popular, good-looking ones.

How women would drug them, take them home, rape them in the hopes of getting pregnant.

Just to have some kind of sick leverage over them.

If the guys wouldn’t marry them, they’d still be able to get money, child support, for years.

It happened more than once. I couldn’t bear the thought of that bitch doing something like that to you. ”

Tate leaned in and put his forehead against hers. He closed his eyes, and Laryn felt him shudder against her. She placed her hands on his sides, feeling horrible that he was in this situation.

Then his eyes opened and he pulled back, but only a fraction of an inch. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For having my back. For not leaving me to wake up alone. For taking care of me.”

“You’d have done it for me,” she told him.

“Damn straight I would,” he affirmed. “Did I do anything last night?”

Laryn frowned. “Anything?”

“Was I inappropriate toward you in any way? I don’t remember anything after you took off your coveralls and we headed into the bar.”

Laryn swallowed hard and shook her head. But this was Tate. He had a way of being able to read her like a book.

“What did I do?” he asked with a frown.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” she insisted.

“Laryn. What. Did. I. Do?” he asked again, using his officer’s voice that usually got the lower-ranking soldiers to jump and do his bidding.

“You were out of it. And pretty much unconscious. You just…cuddled up next to me and slept.”

“Then why are you blushing?”

Shit. Fine. They were adults. And as he’d said, he didn’t remember anything. “Okay. You touched me. My chest,” she hurried to explain, as his frown deepened. “Your hand went under my shirt and you cupped me as we slept. But that’s it! I swear!” she exclaimed.

“Fuck,” he muttered. His hands were still holding her face. “Now I need to apologize.”

“Tate, it’s fine . It wasn’t a big deal. It felt nice,” she blurted.

It was a huge admission, one she regretted as soon as she said it.

But she needed to be honest with him. He was learning some pretty heavy things this morning.

And the last thing she wanted was to add any guilt he might feel about what happened.

It wasn’t his fault that some bitch had roofied him.

It wasn’t his fault he’d passed out. And it definitely wasn’t his fault that he’d felt her up… or that she’d enjoyed it so much.