Читать книгу Her Last Best Fling - Candace Havens - Страница 8
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VIOLENT THOUGHTS CROSSED Blake’s mind as Mr. Clooney’s rooster crowed, waking half the town—so much for the extra rest. Shoving the pillow over his head, he closed his eyes and willed himself back to the dream about the woman in the red heels. The rooster crowed again.
“I’ll kill that bird some day,” he growled as he rolled out of bed. Too many years in the military had him up, showered and sipping coffee ten minutes later.
His mother had taped a note to the fridge that said, “Muffins are in the warming drawer. Love, Mom.”
At five in the morning, she’d probably already been at the feed store for at least an hour. She liked to get the paperwork done before the place opened. Even though she didn’t need to be there anymore, she’d insisted on keeping the books and visiting with customers when they came in. She’d built the business from the ground up while his father traveled the world with the military. She believed in having roots and wasn’t much for leaving the town she’d been born in. Their relationship worked, because when they were together, they treated each other as if no one else existed in the world. Well, except for Blake and his brother.
Their parents made certain their boys had an idyllic childhood in the town centered between two lakes. They lived on the edge of town, which had exactly four stoplights, a couple of grocery stores and various shops on the rectangle, as they liked to call it. When the town was first built, there was no real plan. When they finally decided they needed a courthouse it was built in the heart of the rectangle of shops and businesses.
But Tranquil Waters had changed while he was deployed. He remembered laughing about the letters from his mom talking about how the town council had decided that they could have a Dairy Queen and a McDonald’s on the same side of the highway.
They also—thanks to the lakes and artists and writers who populated the town—had a good tourist industry year-round. It was almost Halloween and he hadn’t seen a house yet that hadn’t been decorated. There were several haunted B and B’s and even a large corn maze on the Carins’ pumpkin farm.
Everything seemed so simple in a small town. It didn’t take a CIA spook to find out that the woman he’d run into on the highway was the new publisher of the town newspaper.
“That Yankee girl just doesn’t understand our ways,” complained Mrs. Lawton. “She reported that old Mr. Gunther was thrown in jail Saturday night. Well, everyone knows he’s spent every weekend in that jail cell for the last twenty years. Ever since his sweetheart of a wife, Pearl, passed—God rest her soul—he’s just been longing for her. Poor man. What he needs is a new woman, a younger one to keep his mind off his troubles.”
While she had glanced around at the other women in her circle, Blake had a feeling she wanted to be the new woman to occupy Mr. G’s thoughts. Blake grinned as he sipped his punch. Didn’t matter that she’d just turned eighty-five and Mr. G had to be nearing a hundred.
“She has that huge house, darn near a mansion,” Lady Smith chimed in. Her name was Lady, and for some reason everyone in town called her Lady Smith. Out of respect, and the fact that she was a friend of his mother’s, Blake had once called her Mrs. Smith when he was about ten. She’d scolded him and told him she was a Lady, and he’d do well to remember that in the future.
The town was full of oddballs, and he’d been one of them. As a kid, he’d run around dressed like Davy Crockett for two years and no one had said a word. Apart from his brother, who was more a Spider-Man fan.
“She’s got more money than she knows what to do with. Imagine, putting the paper on the inter—whatever those kids use nowadays,” Lady had complained. “People here like to hold a newspaper in their hands. And she doesn’t seem to understand that there are some stories that just aren’t fit to tell. I’ve written countless letters to the editor, but she never prints or listens to them.” Lady waved her hand in the air dismissively.
“Darn Yankee.”
How dare she tell the truth about Tranquil Waters. The nerve of the woman. Blake found himself chuckling as he rinsed his cup in the sink.
His mother probably didn’t need his help at the feed store. But he didn’t want to sit around stewing. It almost always sent him in the wrong direction.
He wondered where Macy—he’d finally learned her name—might be. Likely still in bed, if she were smart. Any sane person would be at this hour of the morning. Pulling the truck out of the drive, he saw something run past.
Blake blinked a few times and followed the blur.
“It can’t be.”
The monster dog he’d recently stuffed into a car sat on the porch of a white-framed house with a for-sale sign in the yard. The spot was about five blocks from his mom’s house.
The way Harley stared at the door, as if willing it to open, broke his heart. Blake had seen a lot of awful things through the years, but kids and animals in distress were his weaknesses. He’d do anything to protect them.
Macy was right. Unlike a human, the dog couldn’t understand her master was gone.
Exiting the truck slowly, he stepped up the stone path. She glanced back at him, with the saddest puppy eyes. One of the eyes was blue, the other green.
He hadn’t seen her eyes when he’d been dealing with the hindquarters.
“Hey, pretty girl, what’s up?”
He held out his hand, but she turned away from him. Lifting a large paw, she hit the doorknob.
Damn dog. His heart lurched. Not sure what he should do, he sat down on the top step next to her. He could drag her to the truck, but he didn’t have the nerve. If he gained her trust, maybe she’d go willingly. He had a feeling being at the house was about more than just returning to where she felt safe.
“I’ll sit here with you until you decide what you want to do next,” he said softly. He didn’t have anything better to do.
The dog pawed at the door again and growled.
Blake leaned back against the railing. He could have sworn the dog said, “Let me in.”
I am losing it. Now dogs are talking to me.
“Did you just say, let me in?”
The dog pawed his shoulder.
Yep, he was crazy.
“Oh, girl, sorry, I don’t have a key. I’d let you in if I could, but I don’t have one. And I have a code I live by. Breaking and entering isn’t an option.”
She barked and then leaped off the porch.
As quick as his sore leg allowed him, he got up and followed her around the side of the house.
When they reached the back porch, she pawed at the door handle and attempted to open it with her mouth. She snarled when it didn’t budge.
“Well, we tried,” he said.
She cocked her head, and he swore she rolled her eyes.
Taking off to a chipped birdbath in the middle of the lawn, covered with dirt, she pawed the rocks surrounding the base of the concrete fixture and barked. Blake limped out to the fountain, more to appease her than anything.
There on the ground was a key.
“Okay, dog. Now you’re freaking me out.” If she had had two legs instead of four, she could pass for human. And she had to be one brilliant pup to relate the key to the door.
As he unlocked the door, he noticed someone peeking over the fence.
He pointed an accusatory finger at the dog. “Fine, but if we get arrested you’re taking the rap.” He patted her on the head. Before he could turn the knob and open the door himself, she nosed it open and stood in the small kitchen, as if waiting for him to come inside. Once he was in, she closed the door with her nose.
Blake had never seen such a thing. The few dogs he’d had when he was a boy could sit and lie down, but that was about it.
Harley woofed and trotted to the living room, where she sat in front of a wingback chair. She nodded at him, as if she wanted him to sit down in it. More out of curiosity than anything, he did. A paw shot out and pushed so hard on the chair he worried he’d go head over heels.
But he didn’t fall.
The dog ducked beneath the chair and tossed out several stuffed animals, a ball and chew bones that had seen better days. Once she had her stash from under the chair, she moved the items one at a time to the charcoal-gray sofa. The booty soon became a pillow as she lay atop her toys, sighing as if she’d been on a long journey.
“Poor girl,” Blake whispered. The sight of her relaxing choked him up.
“That’s the first time I’ve seen her sleep since he passed,” a feminine voice whispered.
Head snapping around, he took in Macy Reynolds’s tight jeans, pink hoodie and those furry boots women wore when the thermometer dipped below seventy. The town was having an unusually cool October, and the temperature hung around the fifty-degree mark. A sleepy angel with no makeup, and more beautiful than she’d been the day before.
“I saw her running past my mom’s house when I left this morning and I decided to follow.” He held up a hand. “I swear she made me unlock the door. She showed me where the key was.”
“I believe it. Evidently the drama was about her missing toys. I don’t blame her,” Macy continued to whisper. “I’m kind of fond of my stuff. I don’t have that much, but what I do have is precious to me.”
Odd since he’d learned she inherited her uncle’s house. He assumed she had tons of stuff.
“What?” She checked her clothing as if she might have missed a button.
“Nothing. I...heard last night that you inherited your uncle’s new mansion.”
She scrunched her face. “Yes, he— Yes.”
“For the record, I haven’t been stalking you. Some of the gossips at the party were talking about it.”
She smirked and moved to the sofa to sit beside Harley.
“Is there an expiration date or something on being the subject of town gossip? I’ve never lived in a place where other people were so in your business. Usually, as a reporter, I’m the nosy one. It’s disconcerting. And I don’t think they like me very much, although I’m doing my best to turn their local into a paper that resembles more than tractor reports.”
He laughed, and the dog opened an eye and glared at him.
“Unfortunately, until the next interesting person moves to town, it’ll be all about you.”
“Yes, but the hero has returned.” She nodded in his direction. “Can’t you be the subject of conversation for a while?”
“Nah. I’m not nearly as interesting as a Yankee woman who wears pencil skirts and sky-high heels. And according to the gray hairs, you have a scandalous past where you combed the world reporting on everything from celebrities to wars. Some man broke your heart, and you’re here hiding away.”
Her eyes opened wide. “Wow. They are good. I wish they’d be as generous with their words with me. Honestly, I know heads of state who give more in an interview than people in this town.”
She hadn’t bothered to deny any of what he’d said, so it must have been true about combing the world and the man who was in her life. He wondered if that relationship was really over. He shrugged. “Give it some time, they’ll come around.”
“Will you talk to me?”
He frowned. “I thought that was what we were doing.”
“No—I mean, yes.” She waved her hand. “In an interview. The Tranquil Waters News should do a feature on the town hero.”
That was the last thing he wanted.
“There isn’t a lot these folks don’t already know. I’ve been gone for about seven years. I’m back, a little worse for the wear but alive. There isn’t much more to tell. I was doing my job but happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
She sighed, not unlike the suffering sound the dog had made. “I should have known. You’re no different than the rest.”
The disappointment in her voice forced him to do something he promised he never would.
“All right, if you want to talk, that’s cool, but not right now. I need to get to the feed store to help my mom.” Small white lie, but he had to stall to gather his thoughts. “I was on my way there when I saw Harley.” At least that part was true.
She glanced from the dog to him as if she were trying to discern the truth. “We could do something a little less formal, if that would make you more comfortable. How about tonight? I could make you dinner at my place.”
He almost laughed at the look on her face as if she couldn’t believe she just asked him to dinner.
“If food is involved, I’m there. If you’re sure?”
She nodded. “How about seven-thirty?”
“See ya then.” He stood.
“Don’t you need the address?”
He chuckled. “The house is where the old Gladstone farm used to be, right?”
“Yes. It overlooks the lake.”
“Trust me. I know that area very well.” More than once, he and his friends had thrown a party at the old barn, which had been torn down years ago.
“Do you need help with the dog?”
“No, I’m going to go grab my laptop and work here so she can rest. I have a feeling she’ll follow those toys wherever I take them.”
“Okay, see ya later.” He patted the dog and walked out the front door.
He had a date. Well, it was technically an interview, but he was practiced at giving nonanswers. He’d done it his entire military career. All of his assignments were classified, so he couldn’t share anything.
Hope she won’t be too mad when she finds out I’m as tight-lipped as the rest of Tranquil Waters.
He started the truck engine. The last thing he wanted was the sleepy angel mad at him.
* * *
“WHAT WAS I thinking?” Macy blurted into the phone. “You don’t invite people you’re interviewing to dinner.”
“Yes, you do. It’s just the dinner’s at a restaurant most of the time,” her friend Cherie chimed in. “Chill, girl. You’re going to have a heart attack. This guy must be superhot to make you so nervous.”
Macy slipped on a pair of flats. After his comment about the heels, she realized she’d been trying too hard. Except for those over sixty, this was more of a jeans and T-shirt town. She was perfectly comfortable in that attire.
It wasn’t until her breakup with Garrison that Cherie, her nearest and dearest friend, forced her to leave Boston and took her for a makeover in Manhattan. They tossed out everything she’d owned and decided to start fresh with a sexy new wardrobe. Add a brand-new haircut that was perfect for her shoulder-length curls. And a newfound passion for accessories. Cherie had convinced her that shoes and purses were really works of art.
She didn’t have to twist Macy’s arm very hard.
But if Macy wanted to fit into the landscape of Tranquil Waters, she’d have to scale back on the big-city wardrobe, etc.
“Superhot doesn’t cover it,” she said honestly. “Scorching might come close. He puts that gorgeous action-adventure star Tom Diamond to shame.”
“Wait. Hotter than Tom Diamond? The man who will be my husband someday, even if I have to shoot him with a tranq gun and stuff him in my trunk? I think it might be time for me to visit Texas.”
“You are welcome anytime. I certainly have the room. And yes he’s that handsome, and he’s sweet to dogs and loves his mother. You know how tough that is for me. He’s like a triple threat. But I have to keep this professional. The last thing I need in this gossip-hungry town is to date its hero.”
“So you want to date him. Hmm.”
“Stop analyzing me and putting words in my mouth,” Macy complained. Cherie never stopped being a psychiatrist, but it was her only vice so Macy put up with her.
“You said the words. I’m just placing them in the proper order for you.”
“Privacy is impossible at any of the restaurants in town. I’m sure that’s why I came up with making the dinner. I wanted him to feel comfortable, to share as much as possible.”
“He’s a war hero, you know there’s not much he can say,” her friend warned.
“This isn’t my first time.” She’d been to almost every war zone in the world the past five years. It had only been the past twelve months that she’d decided to take a permanent position out of the line of fire. Little did she know it was just as dangerous at home.
She’d been shot at, kidnapped twice by insurgents and lost in the middle of the desert. None of that had been as bad as her ex’s betrayal.
“Stop thinking about that jerk. He’s not worth it.”
“How did you know?” Macy laughed at her friend’s incredible insight.
“He called here looking for you again. For a hotshot newspaper publisher, he’s not very good at finding people.”
Macy snorted. He was one of the best reporters ever, and if he truly wanted to find her, he would. But she’d told him if he did, she’d only turn him away again. It was the truth.
“Of course, I told him to stuff it up his—”
Lights flashed across her bedroom window. “Oh, man, he’s here early. Darn those marines and their punctuality.”
Macy stared down at the melee of clothing on her bed and picked up the frilly black blouse on top.
“Put down the black, and choose the red. Men love red.”
“That was scary. Fine. Red it is. I love you and I wish you’d come see me. It’s a nice town but—I still feel very outsiderish.”
“Oh, girl, don’t you worry. They’ll love you as much as I do. Just give them some time and the chance to get to know you. Charm the pants off that marine. That will be a great start.”
The doorbell rang and Harley barked twice.
The big dog had settled in just fine. Macy had even bought the dog her own couch for the family room. The fence had been finished that afternoon, and they’d reinforced the gate with two different kinds of locks.
She turned off the phone.
Harley sat patiently at the door waiting for their guest.
Shoving her curls out of her face, Macy took a deep breath and turned the knob.
Oh, shoot, the man is beautiful.
Dressed in dark jeans, cowboy boots and a dark blue button-down under a leather jacket, he was way beyond scorching.
Her normally agile mind couldn’t think of the word, but she knew there was one.
This is work. This is work. This is work.
He cocked his head and stared down at Harley.
“Did she run away again?”
“What?” Macy forced her hand to stay still even though she wanted to wave it in front of her own face, which was suddenly too warm even though the temperature outside was in the low fifties.
“Harley? You know the dog?”
He smiled at her as if he were humoring her.
“Uh, sorry. I’d been on the phone and I’m a little—uh—” Hot for you. No, that wasn’t right. “Out of sorts. Please come in. And Harley lives with me now. She would have been in here days ago, but the rain kept the ground too wet for them to finish putting the fence in.”
He handed her a colorful bouquet of chrysanthemums in a vase. “These are a present for your new home.” In his other hand he held a large paper bag. “I didn’t know what you were cooking so I brought a couple bottles of wine, some dark beer and, er...green tea.”
She took the flowers and led him to the kitchen. “Thank you, these are beautiful, but you didn’t have to bring anything.”
He shrugged and sat the bag down on her quartz countertop. “It’s the south, if you don’t bring a housewarming gift on the first occasion you visit, or to any party you’re invited to, they’ll talk about you for years.”
“I’ll have to remember that,” she said. Not that she’d been invited to anything, but maybe some day.
“I probably should have mentioned my kitchen skills are somewhat limited. But I make a mean beef stew. I put it on earlier today, so it should be ready in a few minutes. And I have bread and salad.”
“Sounds good to me. In general, I like food, so it doesn’t matter too much what it is. After C-Rats, I can, and have, digested everything from guinea pig in Machu Picchu to some weird toad in Africa. I’m not sure that last one didn’t lead to a night of hallucinations.”
She laughed. “I’m pretty adventurous when it comes to food, but I’ve never eaten either of those.”
“You get to a point where just about everything really does taste like chicken.” He smiled and her heart did a double thump.
Oh, heck, I’m in trouble.
She forced a smile.
“Now I feel like maybe I should have tried for something more exotic.” She examined the wine bottles he’d brought. He’d surprised her with his choices. She didn’t know much about wine, but neither bottle was cheap. “Do you have a preference?”
“Whatever you want is fine with me. I’ll be drinking the tea.”
At her quizzical look, he explained. “The docs are weaning me off the painkillers for my leg. It’s best if I don’t drink as it can create an allergic reaction. Although, me and my buddies at the hospital suspected they only told us that so we don’t find out how the painkillers are with alcohol. They deal with a lot of addicted vets there.”
“We can’t have that. Tea it is. The last thing I need is alcohol. It tends to loosen my tongue, and I’m not the one who needs to do the talking tonight.”
She caught the tightening of his lips before he turned away. “I don’t mind,” he said. “If you want a glass of wine. It won’t bother me.”
“No,” she said lightly. “I’ve grown fond of tea since moving here. Cracks me up that they drink it iced even in the dead of winter.”
“Staple of the South,” he said, pulling a large plastic pitcher with a lid out of the bag. “Usually it’s black tea. I have this friend from China who told me that green tea has healing properties. It also clears away some of the fogginess from the drugs.”
“I’ve heard that, too.” She’d forgotten about his injuries. Except for a small limp, he didn’t seem to be in much pain. But she’d met plenty of marines and she knew how tough they were. If he had to take drugs, the injuries were severe. The journalist in her wanted to know specifics, but it would wait.
“Before we eat, would you like to see the house? Actually, most of it is my uncle Todd’s taste. But I have a few touches here and there.”
“I like the stonework on the outside mixed with the pale brick. It blends into the rocky hills behind the house.”
“Yes, that was one of his ideas—for it to blend into the landscape. Though, I think it’s kind of fun that he added a Gothic touch with some of the windows and the roof alignment.
“Did you know my uncle? I mean, you’ve been gone awhile, but before?”
“I didn’t know him. I probably heard his name around town, but I wasn’t much interested in the newspaper when I was a kid. And some might say I was a little self-absorbed back then. I like to say, I was a teenager.”
They laughed.
She took him through the family area where Harley plopped down on her sofa. The television was on Animal Planet, which seemed to be the dog’s favorite along with anything on PBS.
He smiled. “She’s made herself at home there.”
“Oh, that couch is hers. I even had them put extra down in it and then had that wrapped in plastic and an outdoor fabric. Great Danes have joint and bone aches most of their lives. I wanted Harley to have a soft place to rest. Just a minute, I need to change the channel for her.”
Picking up the remote, she set it on one of the PBS Nova specials. Harley grunted her agreement.
She’d learned about the dog’s television preferences earlier in the day when she’d sat with her at her former home. If Macy tried to watch a channel Harley didn’t like, the dog would voice her displeasure.
Not that she was spoiled or anything.
The house was a Texas T shape. The various hallways fed into the center area, which was the main entertaining space. “Down that hall are two bedrooms. There’s another guest bedroom down that hall—” she pointed “—and the master bedroom and study are down that hall,” she said.
It didn’t seem appropriate to take him to the bedrooms. “There’s a loft upstairs with two more bedrooms. But it isn’t really worth the trip up. Let me show you the study. There are a lot of Civil War antiques in there. My uncle was a collector.” The rest of the house had been furnished in rich warm tone-on-tone colors. It was a comfortable place to relax at the end of the day. The only room that was slightly feminine was the master bedroom and bathroom, which Macy had decorated.
Macy opened the door to the study and smiled when Blake muttered, “Woooee. This is a museum.”
His eyes traveled over the glass cases filled with small items and guns from various Civil War battles.
She’d had the estate appraised and this room alone was worth a couple of million. The study had been outfitted with special equipment that would protect it from fire and anything else Mother Nature might throw at it. The whole house was a bunker of sorts, concrete surrounded by stone. The windows could withstand an F-5 tornado. That was good because in this part of the country hurricanes and tornados happened at least once or twice a year.
“I don’t have the heart to auction off these things. Other than the newspaper, this was my uncle Todd’s only passion. I can feel his spirit in here, and I just can’t let go of his stuff.”
Blake blew out a whistle. “I’m no expert, but even I know this is one incredible collection. There are people who’d pay big money for it, but I understand how you feel. My dad collected baseball caps and cards. We still have an entire wall of his hats, some are from teams that no longer exist, and a few are hats his dad had given to him. There’s an original Yankees cap in the bunch, but my mom hides that one when her friends come over.
“It was never even a question if we’d keep them. And I feel the same way about them, as you do.”
She smiled. “Sounds like you really loved your dad.”
Flipping off the light switch, he followed her out the door and to the kitchen.
“Has the interview started?” His voice had changed and he sounded as if he suspected her of trying to get him to talk about his past.
“No. Mere curiosity. I thought I’d feed you before grilling you.” She winked at him.
“Then, yes. My dad was a hero to my brother and me. He’s the reason I went into the military, albeit he was air force. He was a pilot until he decided to retire and help Mom with the feed store. He was a tough old goat, and my brother and I didn’t get away with much when we were kids.”
“I met your mom when I first arrived. I had to get a lawn mower and other gardening tools.”
He chuckled.
She served up the bowls of stew. “Your mother found me frowning as I checked out the lawn mowers. She dug around in her pockets and handed me a card that had the number of a teenager who does yards. Her exact words were, ‘He’s a good kid. For four acres it’ll be about a hundred dollars a week. If he tries to charge you more, tell him I’ll knock him upside the head.’”
Blake laughed. “Yep, that’s my mom.”
“I loved her. She was one of the few people who was genuinely kind to me. I’d heard Texans are a friendly bunch. And, okay, everyone has been nice to my face. But I get the strangest looks. And as I mentioned earlier, they haven’t been exactly welcoming.”
He carried both of the bowls to the other end of the counter where there were stools and place settings. “Like I said earlier, soon someone will move to town and then you’ll be one of the gang. Just give them more time.”
She smiled. “My friend Cherie told me the same thing. I’m not sure why it bothers me so much. I never knew any of my neighbors when I lived in New York, Paris or anywhere in the Middle East. Most of the time I lived out of hotels.”
At the mention of hotels, his jaw tightened. She’d read what she could find on him, and knew that he’d been in Africa when he sustained his injuries. He was protecting a visiting American ambassador there. He and most of his men were hit by enemy fire, but they’d saved the ambassador and other dignitaries that day. The soldiers had earned Purple Hearts.
“Don’t be too worried about it,” he interrupted her thoughts. “Small-town life isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be. Eventually, you feel like a part of the community when everyone knows your name. It can be a wonderful thing, or a curse.” His eyebrow rose.
“A curse?” It hadn’t been that bad.
“Oh, yes. And especially if a certain high school girl’s dad finds you in the barn with her, um, counting hay straws. He calls your dad, who gives you the I’m-disappointed look in front of the entire town when he finds you later at Lucky Chicken Burger sharing a box with your friends.” He looked to the heavens. “People still talk about how he watched as my mom dragged me out by my ear. One of the most embarrassing days of my life.”
She nearly sputtered her stew, she laughed so hard. “I can’t imagine your mother doing that. She talks so highly of you. She’s so proud.”
“Now she is. That day, not so much. I was grounded for six weeks after that and wasn’t allowed to go on dates alone with a girl until I left for college. If we didn’t go in a group, I wasn’t given permission to go. I had to write letters of apology to the girl, her parents, my parents and our minister.”
He shook his head as she started to laugh again. “Sure, it sounds funny, but back then—my friends and my brother never let me forget it. I ran away to college so fast, it was no joke. Joined the marines to help pay for my bachelors and MBA.
“I was determined I would never come back to this place, but I’m a mama’s boy. I probably shouldn’t admit that. I missed her and dad so much by the end of that first semester, I hitched a thousand miles to get home by Christmas Eve. Of course, my mom read me the riot act because I could have been killed on the road.”
“Still, I bet she was glad to see you.”
He nodded. “It wasn’t long after that my dad got sick. So I was grateful we had that Christmas together.”
A chunk of carrot caught in her throat as she watched the memories pass across his face. There’d been a deep family love there. She envied him that. He grew silent.
She swallowed and had a drink of tea. “My parents traveled a lot for their jobs. We didn’t get to have many holidays together. I kind of envy you that.”
“What did they do?”
“Journalists. My mom wrote for magazines, my dad was on air for different TV affiliates.”
“Are they still at it?”
Macy bit her lip. “No. They were killed in a small-plane crash on their way to report on a new orphanage in India. Happened about eight years ago. Uncle Todd was my last living relative. It’s just me now.”
Blake frowned. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up such painful memories.”
She patted his arm. Her fingers tingled from the contact. “You didn’t. We were talking about family. I just wish I had what you had and have with your mom. I believe the world would be a better place if more parents were like yours.
“I’m lucky that I have great friends all over the world. They helped me when I lost my parents. I was doing an internship in Bosnia with a newspaper and the military guys I’d been following arranged for me to get a flight home on one of their transports. One of them even flew with me and stayed until Uncle Todd could get to the base. I never forgot that. Kevin Donaldson was his name. He had two kids and a wife who adored him. Anytime I was stateside, they insisted on me coming to visit.
“Wow. Look at me telling you my whole life story. Who is interviewing whom, here? I never talk to anyone like this.”
He winked at her. “It’s the green tea. Has mystical properties in it.”
They both laughed.
“Do you want another bowl?”
“Sure. The stew is good. I miss home cooking.”
She handed him another full bowl and shoved the plate of French bread at him so he could reach it. “I—I did some digging. As I mentioned, I’ve covered the military for years for various assignments. I know you can’t tell me exactly what happened, although I do know about the ambassador. That’s a matter of public record. And that you guys saved him and the others who were investigating the ammunitions camp someone had discovered in the Congo.”
“You have done your research.” His voice was guarded again.
“I don’t want to ask you anything I know you can’t answer. What I would like to know is how it happened. Several of your men were hit, but luckily everyone survived.”
He sat his spoon in the bowl and stared down at it.
“Some were luckier than others,” he whispered.
Her brow furrowed. “Do you mean the injuries?”
“Yes, and the nightmares. Some of us are having a tough time letting go what happened there.”
“What did happen?”
His deep brown gaze cut to her. “You know I can’t give you details.”
She sighed. “Was it an ambush? From what I’ve figured out so far, you guys had a peaceful week there until you were getting ready to leave. Then all hell broke loose.”
As if Harley had sensed the tension, she nudged between them and put her head on his thigh.
He sucked in a breath.
“Is she hurting you?”
“No. It’s just sore, like a bruise. Mind you, her head is like a ton of bricks.”
“It is very large. She accidentally bumped my nose earlier with her head when I put food in her bowl, and I thought for sure I’d have black eyes.”
He smiled, but it was weak.
Stupid. As professional as she was, it bothered her to realize she’d triggered such old memories—hurtful ones from the look of concern on his face.
That was it. He wasn’t just a hero. He was a man. That would be her story. No one needed to read about his nightmares of that terrible day, or the darkness that clearly haunted him. How often had she told that story? Heroes deserved to be recognized, but maybe she could focus on who they were after they came home, rather than who they were then.
So many soldiers were affected by the experiences they’d gone through. Some—not in a good way. But some said that it made them more aware of how small the world could be.
“I have chocolate chip cookies for dessert. Actually, I was going to show you the best way to eat them.”
“Well, I thought you ate cookies with your mouth.” He gave her an odd look, and she rolled her eyes.
“Ah, where is your sense of food adventure? In fact, I’m going to take that adventuresome nature of yours to a whole new level.”
“Bring it on, Macy. I can take whatever you’ve got.”
The seductive, whiskey sound of his voice and his choice of words did all kinds of naughty things to her.
Be careful.
But it was too late. She’d already crossed the line with Lieutenant Blake Michaels, and she wasn’t at all upset about it.
