It was too soon to be this attracted to her. He shook his head and tried to regain control of himself again.
"Make yourself at home," she called to him from the kitchen.
Roger took her at her word and after kicking his boots off at the door, walked into her living room. The entire space wasn't very big, looked to only be a single bedroom. Pretty spare but the furniture was well-made and clean. There was a small, two-foot Christmas tree on a table by the window. Not very big, but it glittered with lights and tinsel.
The tree made him sad, because it didn't sound like she had any family around since her brother had died. She'd put the tree up in spite of the fact that no one would see it except her. Another important insight into her heart. She was hopeful. And she believed in Christmas spirit.
There was a wall of framed photos, dedicated to a young man, obviously her brother. Some of the pics were of earlier years, hanging out with friends, but as Roger moved across the wall the young man changed, and the focus of his life sharpened. There was a graduation picture in maroon cap and gown where he stood proudly holding up his diploma, Cass stood beside him beaming. Roger thought she looked just as proud as the young man.
There was another picture of him standing beside a sporty red car, keys in hand, pride shining in his young face. Then there were pictures of basic training. Looked like he had been sent to Ft. Leonard Wood in Missouri. And it looked like Andre had fit in well, from the story he read the pictures on the wall.
When young men left an urban environment, it was a real shock to the system to be thrust into the dirt and sweat and pain of basic training. Roger was glad that Andre had apparently done well.
At the end of the cluster of pictures were two that made his stomach clench in recognition of shared experiences he and Andre had each had, separate places, separate times but the same even so. They were of Andre in Afghanistan. In the first he was dismantling an M4 carbine, and laughing at someone out of camera view. He'd been a good-looking young man. Basic had slimmed him down and given his strong face definition.
In the second picture it took him a minute to find Andre, because he was standing with about ten other men in complete desert gear in front of a Humvee, weapons held loosely at their sides.
Roger had a picture very similar on his own wall. When you fought overseas like that, the men you fought with became your family. You wanted to commemorate those good times, to balance out the bad.
The date at the bottom of that last picture was a little over three years ago. It must have been taken just before Andre died. What a terrible loss.
Roger circled back around the room and sank down onto the comfortable looking couch. Oh, yeah, he could totally chill here.
Cassandra made little noises as she worked, and he thought she might have been humming something. Pans clinked and water ran. Then he heard a refrigerator door open and close. He realized she was making the cocoa from scratch. Damn. Now that was dedication … and would be delicious.
Roger sighed as the couch wrapped around him, making his eyelids heavy. The anxiety and tension from anticipating the blind date and then the actual meet up faded away. He hadn't realized how stressed he'd been.
The Christmas tree glittered, the only source of light in the room other than the glow from the kitchen.
He shut his eyes, just for a moment.
Cass peeked into the living room to ask him if he wanted some Bailey's Irish Cream in his mug, but she caught herself. Roger had tipped his head against the back of the couch and appeared to be asleep.
"Roger," she whispered.
He didn't move.
She tried again, a little louder. "Roger?"
Nothing.
Damn! He'd fallen asleep on her couch? She'd only been in the kitchen a few minutes.
Grinning, she returned to the kitchen to shut off the stove. He wouldn't be drinking any cocoa in the near future.
She was a little torn now though. Should she wake him up just kinda accidentally? Or should she just let him sleep?
Hmm. Maybe she'd just let him sleep. She moved to the kitchen window and looked out. Yeah, at the rate the snow was falling he probably should just hang out for a while. Both of their vehicles were covered now. He wouldn't be going anywhere safely in the near future. A little thrill went through her at the thought of having him in her apartment longer.
Tiptoeing into the living room, she snagged her favorite fluffy blanket from the recliner. Being extra gentle, she draped it over his slumbering form.
Mmm, mmm, such a good-looking man. Tall and lean, his build strong and solid, he dressed like a man should. Cass knew it was creepy, but she just stood there, staring down at him for a few minutes. Then he snuffled in his sleep. She thought he would wake for a moment, but he turned his head and burrowed into the cushion of the couch.
Grinning, she headed toward her bedroom. She would wear clothes tonight just in case the investigator decided to … investigate.
Chapter 3
It was three a.m. when she got up to go pee. Then, because she couldn't help herself, she walked down the hallway to the living room.
Roger had stretched out on the couch. The blanket she'd pulled over him was hanging mostly off now, with just the corner covering his chest. The rest had puddled onto the floor. He was moving restlessly, as if he fought demons in his sleep.
Then he cried out and her heart raced with fear.
Cass clenched her hands, wondering if she should wake him up. She'd had dreams like that herself, and they were no fun. The flashbacks of men beating her, the pain. She stood there for a few moments, hoping the dream would let up, but instead it seemed to escalate. He seemed to be reliving the pain of losing his arm. He kept reaching for his right side. In the meager light she saw a tear slip from the corner of his eye to his temple, then another. God, her heart was shattering. She didn't want him to suffer with this pain.
Swallowing, she moved forward, but kept her distance. She knew enough not to touch him yet.
"Roger?"
He blinked his eyes open, but didn't seem to see anything.
"Roger!"
Roger blinked up at her in confusion. There was just enough light from the kitchen for her to make out his expression. He looked terrified.
His body jerked and he finally seemed to focus on her. "Oh, hey."
Her thudding heart began to slow with relief.
"Hey. You all right?"
His arms dropped to his lap and he looked around, obviously orienting himself. "Yes, I'm fine. Sorry, you just startled me."
He scrubbed at his eyes with his good hand. Cass moved closer to sit beside his legs on the couch. She wanted to reach out to reassure him, but didn't know if he was ready for the contact yet. "No, that was totally my bad. You were dreaming, though, and it was getting worse."
Roger looked down at the blanket, then glanced at her kind of sheepishly. "Yeah. I do that." He dropped his head back to the arm of the couch and covered his face with his prosthetic arm.
The heat of him seeped through to her hip and she shivered in the chill. "My brother used to do that," she admitted softly in the dark. "When he came home on leave, he would have terrible dreams. He would scream sometimes, too. It would wake me out of sleep. But he said there was nothing I could do for him and he never talked about it."
Roger's prosthetic hand settled on hers in her lap. "I'm sure just knowing you were there for him was a big comfort. Most men don't want to admit to that, but we get scared too. And we hope for something stronger than us to chase the nightmares away."
Cass nodded, her throat tight. "Yeah, I know how that is."
He squeezed her fingers lightly, and she noticed how much control he actually had with this arm. She ran her fingers over the cold surface. She shivered again, and he sat up behind her, urging her to her feet. "Come on, let's get you back to bed."
Cass allowed herself to be guided back down the hallway to her room. The light in her bathroom glowed softly, just bright enough that he could see to lift the blankets for her to settle in. Then he tugged them until they were smooth around her, and her feet were covered.
It was a surreal experience for Cass and her emotions were ricocheting like crazy. Adrenaline letdown. And now he was squeezing her heart. She couldn't remember any time in her life ever being tucked in like this. Other kids had gotten that buy not the Jones kids. Living on the streets, she'd been lucky if they even had a blanket. She used to sit in a ball with little Andre between her legs. She would wrap her arms and legs around him to conserve heat. Even after their mother had died and they'd been taken to an orphanage with friendly, but overworked people, she and Andre had stuck together. There'd been boys there who had known more than they should have for their age, and didn't mind sharing. Living on the streets as they had, she and Andre had seen and heard a lot of things, but these boys knew more. When one grabbed at her butt, saying something derogatory, she'd had no hesitation in bloodying his lip and kicking his ass. The streets had also taught them to protect themselves.
Cass shivered and clutched at Roger's hand as he started to turn away.
"Yeah, baby?"
"Can you just lay down with me for a while? No strings. Just … maybe we can just … well, be here for each other for a while."