Free Rescue Me: A Bad Boy Military Romance by Vesper Vaughn Page A

work that accompanies this money pit, decrepit, former oil-baron mansion I bought. It’ll basically never be finished, and I’ve come to accept that. I look at the clock and realize I’ve napped too long. Ella’s party has already started.
    “Fuck!” I say to no one. I crawl out of bed on all fours, the pain in my leg debilitating me. I make it to the bathroom, one of the only rooms in the house I’ve managed to finish. And I had to finish it first.
    Ella always wanted a claw foot tub.
    I turn the tap as hot as it will go and pour Epsom salts into the rushing water. Steam comes up and makes the hot bathroom even hotter. I see that the sun is setting outside of the window. I push myself up against the tub and crank the handle to open up the casement window. A small breeze pushes through and I sigh with relief.
    I wait on the cold tile floor until the tub is nearly filled, then lower my body into the scalding water, wincing with pain. But it does the trick, even if I’m nearly giving myself first-degree burns on the rest of my body. My leg relaxes. I stare at my twisted, scarred upper thigh with disgust.
    Tough guys like scars. And if this were just a scar? I’d love it too. Instead, half my muscle has been cut away, leaving me disfigured. At least I don’t limp too much. I can’t rush this bath, as much as I don’t want Ella to think I’ve forgotten about her. I just need to be in here long enough for my pain pills to kick in.
    I tap the warm ceramic edge of the white, curved tub and close my eyes, picturing Ella’s face. Her red, untamable hair fills my mind, and I imagine getting my fingers tangled up in it as I drive myself into her perfect, soft body over and over and over again while she calls out my name.
    I’ve waited so long for her. But in my mind I didn’t expect to have to work to get her attention again. I thought time would have healed the way I hurt her.
    I thought wrong.
    ***
    “Thank God, I thought you weren’t coming,” Tanya says to me at the entrance to the party. The big barn behind the Masonic hall has been filled with music and alcohol, and white lights have been strung from the ceiling. The hay bales have been turned into seating, worn wood slab tables set up for a picnic. The smell of smoked pork fills my nostrils. Tanya hands me a bottle of beer, but I push it away from her. It would fit the image I’m going for of sexy, bad-ass cowboy, but narcotics and alcohol don’t mix.
    I know that better than most people at this point. “I’m good,” I say, looking through the massive crowd.
    “She’s dancing with Clarence,” Tanya says with a knowing look on her face. “I tell you what, I heard you two were getting cozy at the hardware store a few days ago. Wanna tell me about that?”
    I grin at her. “I’m just being neighborly, Tanya. Helping out an old friend with a renovation.”
    Tanya reaches up and adjusts the collar of my button-down shirt. “Well, then, Mr. Neighborly. You’ve got shaving cream on your cheek you might want to take care of.”
    I reach up to wipe it off and realize there’s nothing there. Tanya laughs hysterically. “You’re a lot of things, Luke Davis. A good liar isn’t one of them.” She pats my shoulder and smiles at me. “You go get your girl before Clarence makes a move.”
    I laugh. Clarence is the town’s oldest living resident. He’s nearly one hundred years old, a war veteran, and walks with a stoop. I say hi to people as I push my way toward the wooden dance floor where I keep seeing flashes of Ella’s red hair. I’m nearly there when I feel a cold hand on my arm. “Luke Davis, as I live and breathe,” slurs a high-pitched voice. I groan internally.
    “Amy Waters,” I reply. “Drunk as ever, I see.”
    She has a sloppy grin on her face and a beer in her hand. Her denim jacket sleeves are rolled up, and her fake cleavage is pushed together out of the top of her flowered dress. “You are such a tease, Luke,” she says, patting her