Free Twisted in Tulips by Nikki Duncan

from him outside the bedroom, but damn if it wasn’t a major turn on.
    It was her turn to surprise him.

Chapter Nine
    A week had passed without a word from Misty. She hadn’t been to work. She hadn’t been at her apartment. She hadn’t stopped by the bar. She’d left without a word and though he had no claims on her it irritated him.
    Jace had considered asking Lori or Trevor about her. He’d almost said something to Jenny the morning they’d come in at the same time. Each time the questions had slipped toward freedom he’d shoved them down. The proverbial ball was in her court, and if she didn’t deal with it soon he’d know she was like everyone else. Not at all what he’d begun to see her as, but rather a runner. Incapable of sticking with him.
    He’d reached out with a message she had to understand. Sure, he’d given her a hard time about her clothing choices. He’d questioned the company she kept. He’d taken her to his home without her agreement. He’d been an ass at times. She had plenty of reasons to turn away, but damn it, he’d have wagered his good arm she was different.
    Feeling pissy—a word Clint used to use—Jace dropped to the sofa and rubbed his aching stub. Knowing the pain was in his head, that he couldn’t hurt in an arm he didn’t have, that the agony grew worse when he became overtired or agitated, didn’t change things. He was in a bad mood, which made his missing arm hurt, which increased his bad mood.
    Damn woman.
    Someone knocked on his door. He didn’t care.
    Misty had hooked him in a moment of vulnerability and reeled him in with no effort. Her soft peach scent, her warmth, her fun spirit, her willingness to sacrifice herself for someone else’s happiness.
    He’d met the military couple she’d helped when they came into the bar one night. The man would never walk again, but neither would he wonder about the loyalty of his friends or his woman. His woman said she’d have never had the courage to meet her new husband, to reject his rejection, without Misty’s encouragement.
    How had Jace been too blind to see Misty’s value? To see her importance?
    “Jace Nichols.” A baritone battered the door with a solid knock. “Delivery.”
    Jace looked at his scarred stump. The prosthetic was in the bathroom. By the time he put it on and got dressed the delivery person would’ve left. Even if he was wrong, he wasn’t interested in whatever it was.
    “Lieutenant Jace Nichols,” the voice called as he pounded again. “You can’t hide from me. Besides, I’ve seen you naked, and I’ve seen your missing arm.”
    Once he’d left the military only his doctors had seen his arm. His doctor wasn’t at his door. The only other people who could make the stated claims were the men he’d served with, but even they hadn’t seen his arm. Except Clint.
    Shrapnel-sharp memories flooded his mind and swelled until his skull felt too small. Sweat popped out above his lip, along his hairline, at his spine base.
    Clint .
    He’d walked into the hospital room while Jace’s arm had been uncovered. After one look at the bruised and angry red stump, he’d turned and walked away. He’d never come back.
    “Open the door, Jace.”
    Clint .
    Recognition shot into him. All the time that had passed with only scattered email communications with the unit, none from Clint… Now the man was outside?
    Pressure pushed against Jace’s ribs and throat. Breathing became a battle. Thought became obliterated. Something in his mind must’ve maintained functionality because he found himself facing the door, his hand reaching for the knob.
    “I never knew you to be a coward who’d hide behind a locked door,” Clint taunted.
    Jace flipped the lock, opened the door. “You’ll never see that day either.”
    Clint grinned and pulled him into a gripping hug that ended with a slap on the back. The tension that had built oozed out of Jace. “Well you took long enough to prove me wrong.”
    “I was busy.”