Eleanor lay in her bed, the morning sun peeking through the curtains. Those aren’t my heavy draperies. Blinking several times, she tried to discern where she was. The cottage! Memories of the previous night flooded her mind and, unable to keep the grin from her face, she stretched her body. The normal tightness of her scars was still present, but easily eclipsed by the slight tingling between her legs. It had been a long time since she had had sex and never with someone like Rafe…handsome, huge, and oh, so caring.

Rolling over, the smile dropped from her face as she realized she was alone in his bed. Like a punch to the gut, she gasped with the knowledge he had slipped out earlier. She lay for a moment, uncertainty filling her being. Do I go? Looking around, she spied her clothes on the chest, folded neatly. Dropping her chin to her chest, she grimaced. Oh, God. How embarrassing. He gets up to leave and I’m out like a rock.

Tilting her head to the side, she listened to see if she could hear him in the cottage or the lawn equipment running, but no sounds met her ears. Even though she knew she needed to get back to her house, she hesitated for a moment, sighing deeply. My first walk of shame…and with an employee that I have to see every day. No—not see. I’ll just go back into hiding and pretend he doesn’t exist. As she stood and moved toward the chest, her eyes locked onto the mirror. Her upper chest was pink from his day-old beard. Her nipples were hard with the memory of his head on her breasts. Her hair, normally sleek, was wild and untamed.

Staring into the mirror, her scars were just as stark as always, but latching onto the reflection of her eyes, she finally accepted that there was more to her than just scars. She was a woman. A woman who once more felt alive, even if it was just for a few hours.

Turning away, she reached out, plucking her panties from the chest when the door suddenly opened. Gasping, she jumped back, trying to cover her nakedness with her hands.

Rafe stood in the doorway, his jawline even darker from not shaving, his smile wide and white against his tan face, and his eyes searching first the bed and then darting over to where she stood. “Hey beautiful,” he greeted.

Holding her panties in a pathetic gesture, trying to hide behind them, she ignored the tray in his hand and said, “I thought you left.”

Cocking his head to the side, he asked, “Why would I leave?” Scowling, he added, “And why would you think that I would?”

Blushing from head to toe, she said, “Please turn around so that I can dress.”

Stalking into the room, he placed the breakfast tray onto the bed and walked straight to her, not stopping until his toes were directly in front of hers. “Babe, I’ve already seen you naked and I thought we established last night that I think you’re gorgeous.” He placed his hands gently on her shoulders, watching her swallow nervously, her eyes darting down. Acknowledging her uncomfortable stance, he snagged a blanket from the bottom of the bed and threw it around her shoulders, but instead of letting her wrap herself completely in it, he pulled her forward slightly so that her front pressed against his, the blanket snuggly covering the rest of her. Lifting her chin with his fingers, he repeated, “But I want to know why you think I would leave.”

“I woke alone,” she replied. When he did not comment, she continued, “It wasn’t a poor, pity-me moment. I just figured it was a one-night kind of thing.”

“That tells me what you thought, but if I made you think for one second that it was a one-night fling, then I must have done something wrong.”

Her gaze jumped up to his, her head leaning way back now that they were so close. Shaking her head, she whispered, “You didn’t do one thing wrong. It was perfect. I just know that it didn’t have to mean anything.”

“Then you don’t know me. I assure you, it was not just sex.”

She sucked in her lips, uncertain how to respond.

He bent his head, his lips meeting hers in a feather soft kiss. She melted into his body, his arms now encircling her. One hand pressed her back and the other cupped her head. Not hiding his erection, he pulled her closer so that his aching cock was tight against her belly. Sliding her hand between them, she cupped his shaft, feeling the pearl drop of precum on the tip. Hearing his gasp, she smiled, feeling the power in her simple touch.

“Baby,” he croaked before clearing his throat, “are you sure, ‘cause I only want to do this if you’re sure—”

“I’m sure,” she interrupted, lifting on her toes to kiss him again. His warm breath washed over her face as she whispered, “This means something to me too.”

With a growl, he picked her up in his arms and laid her back on the bed, rattling the plate of fruit he had on the tray. Sliding down her body, he kissed each inch as he disappeared between her legs.

Eyes wide, Eleanor gasped again, this time with the sensation of his breath on her clit. She widened her legs, forcing her scarred hip to stretch.

He halted her with his hands on her thighs, mumbling, “This is for pleasure, babe, not pain. Don’t force your leg. Just relax.”

Smiling, she let each muscle relax as his tongue worked its magic. Soon, clutching the sheet, her body bucked into the air as her orgasm rushed over her, sending waves of tingles through her core. Lifting her head, she watched as he kissed his way back up her body until his lips latched onto hers.

Pulling back slightly, he grinned down. “Now that’s what I call a great wake up.”

“What about you?” she grinned, her smiling lips moving over his.

He pressed his cock between her legs, against her warm core, and continued to show her a great wake up call. It was another hour before they had the fruit he prepared.

* * *

“Here, try this.”

Eleanor looked askance at the jar of goop in Rafe’s hand, before looking back at his face, seeing his enthusiasm. “Uh…what is it?”

“Miss Ethel has pale skin and yet, she likes to be out in the sun working on her flower beds in the yard. So, for years, she has used this to help protect her skin.”

Lifting her eyebrows, she leaned over the proffered jar and sniffed.

Laughing, he said, “It won’t bite, I promise.”

“What’s in it?” she asked, her nose wrinkling.

He bent over, kissing the tip of her nose. “I asked her and she wrote it on the jar. It’s got lavender, pomegranate oil, coconut oil, zinc oxide and shea butter. She swears by it. And,” he added, pulling out another jar, “here is something for the scar tissue. It can help as well.”

Smiling, she dipped her fingers in the first concoction and smoothed it on her face and neck. Still wearing long sleeves and long pants, she did not worry about her arms and legs, but rubbed some of the cream on her hands.

“Thank you,” she said, beaming up at him.

“I like having you out here in the yard with me sometimes, but want you to be careful.” Handing both jars to her, he kissed her lips before nodding toward the terrace. “Go on and work there where you’re somewhat protected. I’ll be in the rose garden for a while.”

She watched him walk away, his confidence shining in the way he carried his body. Looking down at the jars in her hand, her heart warmed at his caring gesture. Inhaling a deep breath, the scent of flowers in the air, she turned and walked over the vibrant green, freshly mown grass, admiring the landscape. The thought of how much her parents would love the way the gardens were tended, flitted through her mind. They would have liked Rafe. That realization jolted her, but instead of tears, she smiled. Walking up to the shaded terrace, she settled onto the chaise lounge.

* * *

That evening, Eleanor rubbed her sweating palms on the thighs of her jeans, her eyes pinned on the sign above the door. Roberto’s Mexican Grill.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to do this, you know.”

She looked over at Rafe, observing the concern etched on his face. When he first suggested they go into town for a meal, she turned him down flat. Then, guilt set in, and she decided she could not have a relationship with him and continue to hide away. Now, sitting in the parking lot, she let out a long, slow breath in an attempt to steady her racing heartbeat.

“No, no, it’s all good,” she said, her words more convincing than the tone of her voice. “I can do this. I need to do this.”

He reached over and took her hands in his much larger ones. “I’m right here. Right here by your side.”

She stared into his eyes and her tremulous smile focused on him. “That’s the only way I could do this…with you by my side.”

With a squeeze, he climbed down, hurrying around the hood to the passenger door, assisting her from his truck. With his arm protectively around her, he escorted her to the door. For their first foray, he chose a Tuesday night, thinking the restaurant would not be very crowded and the almost empty parking lot proved that theory correct.

The dim interior gave her a sense of privacy and, as the hostess showed them to a booth in the corner, she looked around in interest. Spicy scents, mixed with grease, filled the air. Pictures of turn-of-the-century Mexico lined the walls. A bar took up the right side of the restaurant but only a few men sat at one end.

Breathing a sigh of relief as she looked around, she realized there was no threat here. Leaning over, she said, “Now, I feel rather foolish.”

“Why?”

“I haven’t been to a restaurant since before I left to go to Afghanistan. In protecting myself, I also denied myself.”

He reached across the table and rubbed his fingers on her hands. “No more denying whatever you want to do.”

The teenage waitress’ eyes dropped to Eleanor’s neck scars a few times, but she took their order without any hesitation. As she walked away, Eleanor leaned back, exhausted from her wariness.

A group of men sat at the bar, one who kept turning around to look at her. She noticed, but since he was behind Rafe, she remained quiet. After a few minutes, their appetizers were served and they dug into the pile of loaded nachos.

Focused on their food, she startled when a shadow crossed their table. Looking up, she stared, wide-eyed, at the man who had been watching her. He was an older man, but his scraggly, grey beard and motorcycle jacket with chains rattling gave him an edge. Before he had a chance to speak, Rafe was on his feet.

“You need something?” Rafe growled, his eyes pinned on the man staring at Eleanor.

Ignoring him, the man asked, “You the Bellamy girl?”

Rafe, stepping between the man and her, said, “You need to back away. Now.”

Much to her surprise, the man ignored him once again and repeated, “You the Bellamy girl?”

Suddenly so tired of hiding, she tossed her napkin down to the table and jumped up from her seat, putting her hand on Rafe’s back as she peered around him to stare back at the man. “Yes. I’m Eleanor Bellamy.”

The old man grinned and nodded. “Nice to meet you. I used to do some work for your dad. Heard what happened to you and just wanted to say I was real sorry. Both about your injuries in the line of duty and for your loss.”

Stunned, she opened and closed her mouth several times, her hand automatically reaching for his outstretched one. Two fingers from his right hand were missing. He grasped her right hand gently, giving it a little shake. Rafe stepped back, no longer concerned for her well-being and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side.

The man’s eyes jumped up to his and he said, “John Parker. Former Army Sergeant.”

Rafe nodded as he replied, “Former Army Sergeant Rafe Walker. And it seems you know former Lieutenant Eleanor Bellamy.”

John shook Rafe’s hand as well before sliding his attention back to her. Leaning in, he said, “Miss Eleanor, you’re just as beautiful as your mother was. God rest her soul. Your daddy was real proud of you.”

She gasped and Rafe immediately wrapped his arm tighter around her for support. “He was?” she asked in a breathy whisper.

“Oh, yes ma’am. I worked on one of the Richmond shipyards that used to be in our county and would see your dad about once a week. He always talked about you with such pride.” Rubbing his whiskers, he added, “Your daddy was a quiet man…not given to much talk. I think he used to speak to me about you ‘cause I’d been over there myself.”

John stared at her for a moment, his eyes moving over her face and neck, a slow, sad smile forming on his lips. “Darlin’, you wear your scars proudly. You earned ‘em and anyone who says different doesn’t appreciate the freedom we fought to give them.”

Two other men slid off their bar stools and stepped up as well, thanking her for her service and offering condolences, before turning and walking back to the bar. She smiled a wobbly, watery smile at them, the warmth from earlier now spreading throughout her being.

John’s gaze drifted up to Rafe’s and he gave a short nod. “Y’all enjoy your meal, now.”

Plopping back down into the booth, her legs finally giving out, she found herself scooted over as Rafe sat on the same side as her, his arm still wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

Twisting her neck to look at him, she nodded. “I confess I’m a little shaken, but I’m good, honey. It’s all right.”

“I know, but I’m still going to make sure it stays good.” Bending to place a quick kiss on her lips, he reached over to snatch more nachos.

Warmth flooded her from her heart throughout her body, a smile on her face as she focused on their meal as well.