Man, Polly was right. It really is a nice ass.

  “What are you doing down there?”

  “I just decided to take a nap, Tessa. What do you think? You hit me with the door and sent me flying down here.”

  I bite my lip at the anger in his voice before my defensiveness comes out to play. “Well, what were you doing out here to begin with?”

  “I was taking a fucking piss,” he yells, and his voice echoes in the cold night air.

  I look around the pitch darkness of the unlit highway. There isn’t anything or anyone around. “Why would you do it right by my door?”

  “Take the flashlight off me so I can pull up my damn pants.”

  I move the flashlight away and have to remind myself that it’s for the best that I won’t get a glimpse of all of him. I don’t need that visual running through my mind the entire time we’re in the car together.

  Then I hear the crunching of the snow from his boots breaking the thin layer of hard frost. “Damn it all to hell. My pants are soaked now, and I’m bleeding.”

  “Bleeding?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  He finally reaches the car again, and he looks as if I ran him over. There are sporadic wet marks on his shirt and pants, his hair is in all different directions, and the skin on his face is cold and red.

  I glance down to where blood drips off his forearm, making a red polka dot pattern in the snow. “We need to get you to the hospital.”

  “No, we don’t. I just need a first aid kit.” He disregards the cut that’s still oozing blood and opens the back of the car, digging through the back.

  “I doubt we have a first aid kit unless you travel with one.” I follow him, bracing myself when another truck approaches. “We need to get off this road. It’s dangerous.”

  “This is nothing,” he grumbles.

  “I’m taking over driving and we’re getting you to a hospital.”

  “I’m not going to a hospital.” He takes a T-shirt out of his bag and wraps it around his arm, pulling the fabric with his teeth to get it tight.

  “I know I’m not a medic and can’t deliver a baby on a plane or anything, but I can help you apply pressure if you want.”

  “I’m used to handling things on my own,” he says, holding his arm with his other hand.

  God, this man is so damn stubborn.

  “I’m taking charge now.” I round the back of the car, glance behind me, then plaster myself to the side of the car while another semi-truck barrels past me. I swear I almost blow away. Hell, the car and I could go with one good gust.

  I hurriedly get in the driver’s seat and put on my seat belt, waiting for him. He opens the door and slides into the seat beside me, then he tries to keep pressure on the cut and get his seat belt on at the same time.

  “Here, let me.” I unbuckle my seat belt.

  “I’ve got it.”

  “Why do you have to be such a hardass?” I grab the metal part of his seat belt. I’m pulling it across him when I glance up for a second and lock eyes with him.

  He blinks, and our shared moment ends. That was weird.

  Then he says in a quiet voice, “I’m not used to relying on a lot of people, okay?”

  I ignore that there’s no apology in that statement for his snippiness. “Don’t all soldiers rely on each other?”

  He doesn’t say anything for a while. “Out there, yes. But here, I’m the trained one.”

  “Stop being such a macho guy. I promise not to tell anyone I put on your seat belt.”

  He chuckles, and I glance up at him again before I click the seat belt in place. Holy shit. The seat belt slips from my hand, but I catch it before it gets all the way across his lap.

  He’s ten times more gorgeous when he smiles. I can see now how he got the first-class ticket. Even the small scar just above his right eyebrow makes him sexier somehow. Rugged and manly.

  “What?” He stops chuckling and his face grows serious once more.

  “You laughed,” I admit. “And smiled.”

  His forehead wrinkles. This is closer to the expression I’m used to from him. “You act like I don’t do that.”

  “Not with me, you haven’t.”

  We’re inches away from one another and my lips tingle with the need to place them on his.

  “Congratulations, I’m human.”

  My laugh bubbles up out of me because that’s not what I expected him to say. “I wouldn’t go that far.” I take a glimpse and his T-shirt is almost soaked through where the cut is. “All right, tough guy, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  He groans but doesn’t argue, which makes me feel that more confident in my decision.

  I get off the highway, following the GPS to what they say is the nearest hospital. Since Tre insists that he can walk, I drive past the emergency roundabout and park in the lot so we can both walk in.

  Christmas music blares once we’re inside. Doctors and nurses are dancing or talking around a spread of food and drinks in the lobby area. The sliding doors close behind us, and they all turn in our direction.

  “Great. I’m sure this is better than if I stitched myself up. A drunk doctor doing it,” Tre mumbles.

  “I’m sure they’re just drinking punch. Nothing wrong with getting in the holiday spirit.” I elbow him in the ribs and approach the check-in desk after the woman in a light-up reindeer sweater sits down behind the desk.

  “He cut himself,” I say.

  “I didn’t cut myself. Someone pushed me down a bank on the side of the road and a tree limb or something cut me.”

  “Semantics.” I lean forward to the woman, pointing at the computer. “You might want to put in there that he’s a difficult patient. He’s military and wanted to do it himself.”

  The woman’s eyes fog over with unshed tears. “Military? Which branch?”

  “Army, ma’am.”

  “My son is a Marine. Are you from around here?”

  The emotion on this woman’s face is like a punch to the gut. She looks moments away from crying.

  “No. We’re headed back to Portland,” Tre says.

  “Going home to your parents?” she asks.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “This is our first without him. Couldn’t get leave.”

  Tre’s lips purse and he nods. “First one is the hardest, for sure.”

  She wipes her tears. “Definitely.” She wipes her face again and smiles. “Anywho, let’s get you checked in, shall we?”

  I turn away for a moment, pretending to give them their privacy and sit down to read a magazine. No one has ever missed me like that. That emptiness I’ve felt so often in my life from not having a family rises up, and fear grips me—what if Carter shuts the door in my face, and I’m left traveling back to New York alone on what could be Christmas? I rush into the bathroom and kneel in the stall, throwing up my entire cinnamon roll lunch.

  There’s a knock on the door. “Tessa?” Tre asks.

  “I’ll be right out.” I flush the toilet once more, stand, and wash my hands, splashing water on my face. Once I look halfway presentable, I open the door to find Tre leaning on the other side of the wall.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  “Yeah. Just had to use the bathroom.”

  He studies me for a long while, and I shift my feet, staring down at them. “Speaking of, I need you to help me go to the bathroom.”

  My head flies up. “What?”

  “Yeah, undo my pants and pull it out. Maybe hold my dick to aim it in the toilet.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  He laughs again, this one heartier and louder than the one in the car. “Is that a no?”

  I can’t help but smile at him, despite my mood a moment ago. “I thought you didn’t need anyone’s help?”

  “Tre, I have a room for you,” the woman from the check-in desk says, interrupting us.

  “Saved by Mags.” He winks and walks back her way.

  I follow with a smile. I can’t help but think he knows that I wasn’t just going to the bathroom. How on earth can a soldier read people so well? Maybe Tre isn’t who I’ve pinned him to be.

  Chapter Ten

  Tre

  We’re placed in an exam room, and I’m told to take off my shirt and put on a gown.

  “If you’d like me to leave…” Tessa shifts her weight from the chair to stand.

  “That’s okay. I’m sure you’ve seen a man’s chest before.”

  “I’m happy to just wait outside the whole time.”

  “That’s okay. I might need a witness if they cut off my arm or something.” I grab the hem of my shirt and slowly raise it up my torso.

  She lowers back down into the chair, her eyes remaining on me until I clear my throat.

  “Sorry, I zoned out.” She turns her head so fast I worry she strained something.

  I finish taking off my shirt and put it on the other empty chair. I glance at the gown and put it on so the ties are at my back.

  “Do you mind tying me in the back? Don’t want to give away a free show.”

  She laughs. I’d never tell her this, but I haven’t heard anything so beautiful in years. Maybe it’s my ego because she’s laughing at something I said.

  I offer her my back and her fingers scrape my bare skin while grasping the tie strings.

  “Sorry,” she whispers.

  I close my eyes, feeling her breath brush my neck and making the little hairs stand on end. Her touch is gentle, and I have to stop myself from leaning into it.

  “Are the scars from…”

  I nod. “Multiple places.”

  She ties the last one. “That does it.”

  I sit on the edge of the bed as she goes back to the chair. We sit for longer than I would expect since they were having a party when we showed up and obviously weren’t busy.

  “Do you think they’re trying to get the doctor sober enough to stitch me?”

  She leans back and crosses her long legs. “I think hospitals just make you wait forever for no reason. So you appreciate their time more?” She shrugs.

  I lean on the bed and press the button for the television.

  “Do you miss your family?” she asks. “Out there with Mags, you two seemed to understand each other so well.”

  I turn to look at Tessa. Now I’m convinced that my gut was right earlier and something is bothering her. She tries to come off as tough, but I think she might have a soft underbelly.

  “I do. I’m usually so busy that I don’t have time to think about it, but it’s easier for us.”

  She leans forward and rests one elbow on her knee while placing her chin in her open palm. “I would think it would be harder for those serving.”

  I shake my head. “The people left behind are usually in the same place they remember us being for the holiday. Take my mom. She wakes up Christmas morning, and though my little brother and sister are there, she feels my absence. In every memory she has of Christmas, I’m there, in that house, so my absence is just as noticeable as if they had no tree on Christmas. Every tradition they do that holiday, I’m not there for it, and she feels it.”

  “That makes a lot of sense.”

  “Believe me, it sucks being away, but…” I shrug, unsure what else I could say.

  “What do you miss the most?” she asks. “Not sugar cookies, I’m guessing?”

  I chuckle. “I like sugar cookies, just not ones from a stranger. My mom would lecture me for days.”

  “Yeah, Gladys looks like the type to lace a sugar cookie.” She grins and I stare at her for a beat.

  “You can’t trust her just because she’s a grandma. The ones who get away with it are always the least suspicious.”

  Silence descends on us again. Our conversation isn’t coming as naturally as I might hope, but we’re not arguing so… progress, I guess.

  “Eggnog,” I blurt out.

  “Eggnog is what you miss most?”

  I nod. “I love eggnog, and my mom makes it the best. It’s a family recipe. One day I’m going to get it.”

  Her eyes widen.

  “Not the answer you’d think?”

  She shakes her head. “I’m not sure what I thought, but good to know… eggnog. I saw some out there. Want a glass?”

  “No thanks. I can wait until I get home. But could you see how much longer the wait is?”

  She stands. “Want me to go Terms of Endearment for you?”

  I don’t tell her that I have no clue what she’s talking about because she’ll razz me for it, but she leaves the room. A short time later, she comes back with a doctor right behind her.

  “Hi. I’m your doctor. Mags tells me you have a cut that might need stitches?”

  I hold out my arm. “Yeah, here it is.”

  He washes his hands and puts on some gloves, eyeing Tessa the entire time.

  “She didn’t cut you, did she?” He laughs. Neither of us do, though in the short time we’ve known each other, I’m sure Tess has wanted to. “Just kidding. Your girlfriend looks too innocent.”

  “Oh, we’re not…” Tessa is quick to tell him we’re not a couple, which rankles though it shouldn’t.

  The doctor sits down on the roller stool and wheels over to me, all while looking at her. “Brother and sister?”

  “Nope,” she says. “Strangers traveling cross country together.”

  The doctor’s eyes bulge out. I hate that she’s telling him information he does not need to know. “Tell me how that happened.”

  Finally, he takes my arm to investigate the cut. He cleans it out and puts on antiseptic while listening to Tessa tell him the story.

  “Mags!” he calls.

  I get it’s a small-town hospital, but a little professionalism would go a long way.

  She walks in with a cup of eggnog in her hand. “Here you go.” She leaves it on my tray on wheels.

  “Definitely stitches, you were right. Want to set it up?” the doctor says.

  “Sure thing.” She turns to go to the cabinet to get everything together, then looks over her shoulder at me. “Want to be numbed?”

  “Of course he does,” Tessa answers for me at the same time I say, “Nah.”

  “Why not?” Tessa asks, leaning to the side to look around Mags, who’s going back and forth from the supply cupboards.

  “I’ve had plenty without anything.”

  “That one on your forehead probably needed some,” Mags says.

  “Come on, Mags, it’s sexy.” I waggle my eyebrows.

  Tessa comes to the bedside. “I’m finding out all these new things about you. You love eggnog, and you can be a flirt.”

  “Hey, we have some cookies and stuff out here if you’re hungry.” The doctor looks at Tessa, waiting for an answer.

  Great, he’s going to whisk her away with the lure of sugar. I have a feeling it’s like flowers and chocolates to her.

  “Oh, cookies? Sure.” Tessa turns to walk away but circles back. “Want me to bring you some?”

  “Nah.”

  “Oh, that’s right, sugar is the devil.” She laughs and walks out of the room.

  Mags stops setting up the tray and studies me for a long time. It’s weird the connection I feel with her. Almost as if I knew her before I joined the armed forces. That sexy comment isn’t anything I wouldn’t say to someone unless I was close to them. It’s hard to put my finger on.

  “What’s going on with you two?” She glances toward the door.

  “I think that’s a better question for the doctor.”

  Her head rears back. “Dr. John wouldn’t steal your girl.”

  I laugh. “She’s not my girl. I barely know her.”

  “Weird… doesn’t seem like that. If I didn’t know better, I’d say the two of you were close.”

  I shake my head. “Not at all. We were on the same plane to Portland, got to Minneapolis and the airport shut down, so now we’re driving together because…” I don’t finish my sentence because it sounds irresponsible to say my license has expired. And that’s when I realize Mags reminds me of my mom.

  “Sometimes things like this happen for a reason. Kismet.”

  I make a buzzer sound. “She’s on her way to Portland looking for a second chance with her ex.”

  “Really?” Her eyebrows rise.

  Just then, Tessa returns with a handful of cookies. Her cheeks are red which makes me think good ol’ Dr. John might not be as innocent as Mags thinks he is. My jaw cocks to the side, and I inhale a deep breath—we’ll be out of here in no time.

  “Tell Mags about your psychic journey,” I say to Tessa.

  She puts the cookies next to the eggnog and picks one back up, biting into it immediately.

  “Gossiping about my business, are we?” Tessa doesn’t sound too perturbed.

  “Mags thought we were a couple, and when I explained the situation, she thought it might be kismet for us, so I was explaining that a psychic says otherwise.”

  Tessa narrows her eyes, but there’s amusement on her face that I kind of like. For a moment, I wonder what a life with someone who’s my complete opposite would look like. Sure, I enjoy banter, but I think there’d be a lot of arguing, though neither of us seems to hold a grudge. She’s clearly looking for love in her life—hell, she’s traveling across the country for it—while I’m not so sure I believe in love. I saw a lot of guys think they found it until they left for basic or missions. Coming home to empty homes, rumors about their girlfriends or wives cheating with another soldier.

  “So, a psychic, huh?” Mags asks her, dragging me from my thoughts.

  Tessa sits back in her chair. “It was at a Christmas party. She told me she saw me alone in life unless I changed my ways, but said there was an opportunity to make it work with one man.”

  I sit up straighter, intrigued because this part she hasn’t told me yet.

  “Changed your ways?” Mags asks.

  It’s even more clear now how much like my mom she is. My mom would grill Tessa too.

  “I tend to not give people a lot of time before I cut the cord. Always finding some fault with them, seeing signs that we shouldn’t be together.”

  It’s telling how perceptive Tessa is about herself to figure that out. I’d rather stab myself twenty times than do an internal audit about what’s holding me back.