Chapter One
Storm’s appearance and personality totally matched his name. Everyone said so, and they were right. No matter where he went, he disrupted the norm, and everyone in the room became aware of him. Years ago, he’d gotten used to this bullshit and had learned to ignore it. Not so for the people around him. They’d never get used to the way static sizzled when he stepped into their space.
It wasn’t as if he was good-looking… no one could use that menial title for the man’s stunning façade. He turned handsome into a silly adjective for a normal guy.
He was stunning.
Wavy black hair that he seldom remembered to cut, until it began to sway on his shoulders, framed a chiseled tanned face that would be the end result any Nip &Tuck team would strive for. Mesmerizing green eyes flashed with flecks of gold that could warm his friends or freeze his victims, depending on his mood. And a tall, muscular frame he’d inherited from a long line of strong males had been a gift from the ancestor pool.
The problem was, this Adonis didn’t give a shit about what kind of looks a person had. No one in his early years ever made a fuss about his appearance… and neither did he.
He had muscles because they made everyone work out and learn to be tough at Quantico. Not that he hadn’t already been in shape from the training as a Navy Seal back in his idealistic days of wanting to fight for his country.
But that had involved a whole different kind of tough – it had been a constant striving for the highest levels of fitness. After serving two tours and recovering from a gunshot and various other work-related wounds, he decided he needed to return to Texas.
His mom was getting older and needed her boy nearby. And if there was one thing Storm loved more than his job… it was his favorite person in the world… his adopted mother, Molly Storm.
That black woman taught him that it didn’t matter a hoot if he was a pretty boy or built like a tank. It only mattered if his heart was as sweet. And she sure as shit didn’t give a good-goddamn if everyone wanted to be his pal. She’d taught him clear-out, all that mattered was that he was a good person inside where it counted.
As a young boy, when it came to his studies, he’d suffered from a selective learning condition. What he liked, he’d put in the effort and aced it. And what he didn’t, he’d ignored.
First, she’d kicked his ass, then she’d sat him down and told him the God’s honest truth. That the world really didn’t give a fiddler’s fart about Kurt Storm. She certainly didn’t mince any words but came straight out like a father might do for his son.
If he didn’t take control of himself and make the best out of the fine qualities that the good Lord gave him, he’d end up a fool, drowning in a pool of regrets.
Turns out, she was right. The few times he’d ignored her words, he did end up regretting the consequences. Nowadays, he pretty much followed the little mama-voice in his head. Be smart – don’t be the talker… be the listener. Be honorable… so you can always hold your head high. And be nice… when it matters. She had a thing about assholes.
So, when he approached the little lady at the bar who had red hair tied up in a mess of braids all over her head, he used his polite voice, “Excuse me, Miss. Mind if I put in my order.” He was dying for a cold beer to carry to a place where he could sit with his booted feet up and his hat pulled low so he could veg and catch his breath. It had been one of those days… okay, weeks.
“Wait your turn, cowboy. Don’t be pushy.” Her gray eyes filled with diamond-like sparks, shooting directly at him.
Taken aback by her tone and the grumpy words, he slumped onto one hip, a sign to anyone who knew him that his temper had just ignited. “Sorry, just wanted to get a cold one. I thought you’d already ordered.”
Being as how the bar was stomping tonight, he could see where she might have thought him pushy, but he really hadn’t meant to be. He had truly believed she’d gotten her order taken already.
The toughie turned on him, seemed to be aware of a person behind him, and the next thing he knew, she’d stepped into his space, grabbed his face, and planted a kiss on his lips. Now that would normally have pissed him off. Getting used by any female wasn’t his style. Girls didn’t take liberties without his permission, but this chick had a mouth full of explosives, and they were detonating his lips. Feeling like he’d been scorched shook him from his earlier weariness and stole his breath away.
Before his equilibrium settled back down, she’d pulled away, checked behind him, and yanked herself out of the arms he’d put around her to hold on. Never having someone with the power to turn his insides to mush before, and he had no idea a man could feel this erotic eruption from one stranger’s kiss. Before he could gather his composure, she’d patted his cheek, whispered “sorry, Bro” and slipped out the side door.
Sweet Baby Jesus. Now… what the hell was a man to do?
By the time he’d gathered enough brain cells together to follow her, she’d disappeared.
When he went back into the place and called over to his buddy, working as the bartender, he had to ask, “Hey Ted, do you know who that redhead was?”
“Not a clue. But her body sure got a lot of attention, and her ass made my eyes water. Man, she’s one wicked beauty. Weird hairdo though.”