Page 13 of Operation Rescue
“Hope he’s good on that last one.”
Blaine had spoken for the first time since they’d stepped inside, and Erin’s gaze snapped to his face. That face that she had imagined beside her so many times, the face she had ached to wake up to so many times she’d stopped even trying to track how long it had been. That face that had always showed his hunger for her as he made long, sweet love to her.
She’d resigned herself to the apparent fact that he would forever and always haunt her, and she might as well get used to it. And now he was here, looking at her not in the old, loving way but in the cool, calm, collected way she guessed his brothers-in-arms always saw.
“He’s also got quite a track record with kids,” Rafe said, and she turned back to him, not even trying to deny the relief she felt at looking away from Blaine. “Both finding them and helping them. And we have a lot of people we can call for help, if we need it.”
That puzzled her. And while Blaine didn’t look the same to her, apparently he could still read her easily, because he said, “He works for a foundation that helps people. It’s called Foxworth.”
Her eyes widened. “I’ve read about them.” She looked back at Rafe. “They’re big. Surely they wouldn’t help on something like this.”
“Things like this is what they were founded for. Helping people who can’t get it elsewhere,” he said.
And she suddenly remembered who this man was. The award-winning sniper who had saved countless lives in those wars and battles that haunted her dreams. Blaine had told her about him after the rescue, in that wide-eyed way that she’d loved. Saying “Holy moly” rather than something cruder. The way he always did around Ethan. She remembered teasing him, saying he’d saved just as many lives himself.
“Maybe, but I do it from a safer distance, with a built-in escape module,” he’d joked, clearly seriously impressed with the man who was now here with him. The man who apparently had answered his call for help immediately, and had brought reinforcements.
So she had two heroes on her side, temporarily. And apparently a very capable dog with a knack for soothing frazzled nerves, among other things. Although it wasn’t really her side they were on, she reminded herself. It was Ethan’s. They were here for him, and until he was home safe she didn’t matter. Nor did her jumbled feelings. She would just have to set them aside. The focus needed to be, had to be Ethan.
And she would do worse than deal with her ex-husband for the sake of their son.
Chapter 8
“Ihave coffee on,” Erin said.
As she stood up from where they’d taken seats in the living room to head for the kitchen, she rubbed her hands down her legs in that way she’d always had. Especially if she was nervous. Blaine supposed he should be thinking about why she was nervous, but all he could think about in that moment was those legs, and how it had felt to have them wrapped around him while he buried himself in her.
Not now, idiot.
He took the chance while she was gone to look around. The gardening had extended indoors, he saw, with several potted plants adding a touch of greenery to the room. The couch they were on was comfortable, arranged so it faced what looked like a gas fireplace, and a flat-screen atop a cabinet beside it. The other side of the fireplace was taken up by a floor-to-ceiling, full bookcase. She’d always loved to read, had preferred print, and that clearly hadn’t changed.
The color scheme was appropriately beachy, given they were only about five miles as the seagull flies from the Pacific. White, sand, and a light blue seemed to be the theme, both in furniture, pillows, and a framed painting on the wall opposite the fireplace, between two large windows that looked out onto the remarkable garden she’d created.
But what really caught his eye were the three photos on the wall opposite where they were sitting. One was of her parents, who lived in Florida. The next was of her getting what looked like a degree, given she was wearing some kind of school robes like people wore at graduations. But it was the third photo that snagged his full attention. Ethan, at eight years old, wearing the child-sized flight suit Blaine had tracked down when his son had announced he wanted to be a pilot just like his dad.
How had he gone from that little boy in the jumpsuit to…whatever he was now?
Don’t be stupid, you know how.
He shook off the unsettled feeling that had taken over his gut. Saw Rafe watching him, but thankfully the man didn’t say anything.
“You finally got your garden,” he said to Erin when she came back with a tray carrying three mugs and a bowl of sugar and a small jug of cream or milk, he wasn’t sure. She took both if she hadn’t changed, while he took just a spoon of sugar. Rafe accepted his mug with thanks, and shook his head to the offer of either. She’d always made good coffee, and at his first sip he knew it was still true.
“I did,” she said. “It wasn’t much when we got here, but now it looks good, I think.”
“It’s incredible,” he said, past the knot in his throat. He’d never been able to give her that.
“Labor-intensive,” Rafe commented, but he said it admiringly.
“Yes,” she admitted. And then, with a slight shakiness Blaine couldn’t miss, she set her mug down. “Maybe I spent too much time on it. Maybe if I’d spent more on Ethan he wouldn’t—”
“Stop it,” Blaine said. “Don’t blame yourself for this.”
For the first time she met his gaze head-on. And it didn’t matter how long it had been, he still recognized the pain in her blue eyes. “How can I not? I’m the one who—”
She cut herself off and looked sharply away.
The one who what? Blaine wondered. Didn’t notice any trouble? Expected too much from the kid? Was too hard on him? He didn’t think any of that was true. It just wasn’t who Erin was.
