Hard Beat

We nod and watch him walk off, and now that he’s gone, I look over to Stella who’s eyeing me once again. “What?”

“Nothing.” Silence falls between us for a moment before she continues. “I think it’s cute, you know. Most guys are scared of saying those three words.”

“Well, according to you and Pauly, I say them too much.”

“I’m just giving you shit,” she muses, head on the back of the chair, eyes tilted up to the ceiling. “I like that it’s easy for you.”

“I guess the real question, though, is if I can say it so easily, how will I know when it’s really real?” It’s amazing the things you’ll think to talk about when you’re bored out of your mind.

“You’ll know it’s real when you hesitate.”

I angle my head and meet her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“If the words are so easy for you to say when it’s in reflex, then the first time you ever hesitate, when you don’t say ‘I love you’ back immediately because you’ll be so overwhelmed that she said it to you … well, I guess then you’ll know it’s real.”

I stare at her, not sure if I believe her or not, but since I have nothing else to think about, the notion settles in as I lift the beer to my lips and rest my head on the back of the chair. “Food for thought,” I murmur.

A noise in the hallway pulls me from my dream and the moment I’d completely forgotten. My dreamlike state lasts momentarily, and I hold on to the recollection of Stella since the memories are coming less and less frequently now.

Rolling onto my side to avoid the bright light that floods the room, I’m struck by how perfectly it frames Beaux’s body in a halo as she sleeps. I visually trace the lines of her face and the sheet covering her body and take her all in. She’s so feisty when she’s awake that it’s interesting to have a moment to watch her in sleep. And it’s not like we haven’t woken up beside each other before, but this time just seems so very different.

Good different.

The first time you hesitate …

I push the train of thought aside – how both Stella’s wisdom and now Beaux lying beside me make me hesitate in so many ways – and try to redirect my mind to where I want my thoughts to wander: my family. I wonder how my sister, Rylee, is doing with her new husband and her band of motley boys that she loves more than life. I find myself guessing at how many times my mom has gone to pick up the phone to call me, only to hang it back up because she doesn’t want to a

Then Beaux makes this soft moan deep in her throat that tugs on every ounce of testosterone in my body. And it’s not like I’m not sitting here with morning wood; I’d be more than willing to relieve the pressure and feed the ache, but at the same time there is something so perfect about just being lazy with her. Like we’re lying together after an incredible first date instead of in the Middle East in some crappy hotel with squeaky bedsprings, waiting for the next story to hit.

Shit, even after leading into another morning broadcast in the States and not another mention of what happened in the hallway, we fell into bed exhausted but not too tired to go another round, a little slower, a little softer than the first time. And then complete and utter exhaustion took over, but damn, I’ll take exhaustion when it comes at the hands and thighs of a beautiful woman.

She shifts in bed, my eyes taking in the span of golden skin that calls for me to touch it, and when I look back up, I meet her sleepy eyes and shy smile. “Mmm, good morning,” she murmurs, shifting her pillow some so that she can lie on her side and look eye to eye with me.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

She closes her eyes drowsily for a slow blink and yawns. I laugh at how tired she seems when I feel so invigorated after a killer story, great pickups by other networks, and, more important, the incredible night we spent together.

“Can we just stay here all day?”

“We could.” I shrug, shifting the pillow partially covering my cheek. “I’m sure I could find some ways to entertain us.”

“Ah yes. I forgot. Floors and doors and stand or sit —”

“You sound like a Dr. Seuss poem,” I tease as I reach out and lift a strand of hair off her cheek. And damn. I don’t know why I expected that zap of current I feel whenever I touch her to have dissipated since we’ve had sex, but actually it feels ten times stronger.

When she turns her cheek ever so slightly into the touch of my hand, the simple gesture speaks louder than the warning bells going off in my head telling me that slippery slope just became a full-on landslide.

“Nah, I’m just thinking of location, location, location,” she says, making us both laugh before we fall quiet.

“Speaking of location…” I hesitate, not wanting to kill the moment but at the same time needing to address something while her tough-girl facade is gone, shed on the floor with her clothes. Because I don’t have any doubts that the minute we leave this bed, her back will be up and she’ll close down to what I want to say. “Yesterday. On scene. Can we not do that again?”

Her eyes widen slightly. “Sure. I’ll make a point to tell the terrorists to stop shooting. I’m sure they’ll listen to me. Not a problem.” She looks at me like I’m crazy.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” I can hear her irritation in her tone and know I need to smooth the feathers I’ve just ruffled.

“I meant, can we keep the picture taking of local interest things to a minimum, please? And at the least, can you warn me if you ask Sarge or Rosco for permission on an embed so that I can go with you?”

“Seriously? Now you’re going to tell me how to do my job?” She starts to sit up, but I reach out and put my arm on her biceps to prevent her from pulling away.

“I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job, nor do I think I’m being unreasonable… I just…” My voice trails off as I attempt to figure out how to say what I need to say without implying anything else. She’s a woman, and women infer things, and not always the right things, so I take a moment to choose my words correctly. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you. If I can at least be with you when you wander, then I’ll feel better about it, I guess.” And it’s stupid really, like I’d be able to protect her from the shit that’s out there, but it’s a guy thing. Protect at all costs.

She just stares long and hard at me before finally speaking. “I’m not going to promise anything other than I’ll try to keep you informed.”

It’s not exactly the answer I was hoping for, but at least it’s better than her telling me to go to hell, which was what I expected. I nod in cautious acceptance because I don’t have a leg to stand on after witnessing how incredible the shots she got yesterday were. “What exactly is it that you’re looking for when you take the pictures? What is it that calls to you?” She leaves in the middle of the night to take photos, she braves a war zone to get shots, and I want to understand why so that maybe I’ll get to know her better.

“Life.” She answers in such a matter-of-fact way, but her eyes have a daydream quality to them that reminds me of when I first started this career and felt the same exact way. And I still love my job, still am consumed by it, but it’s that fresh-faced wonderment that I see in her eyes that makes me hold off on telling her it’s going to change. I should let her enjoy this period.