Читать книгу Tempted by the Soldier - Patricia Potter - Страница 12

CHAPTER FOUR

STEPHANIE WAS FEEDING her two canine boarders when the phone in her office rang. She glanced at her watch. Seven thirty. She looked down at the ID display.

She didn’t answer “Unavailable” or “Name unknown” or “Anonymous,” all tactics her ex-husband had used.

But it was none of those. Instead, the ID reported “C. Morgan.” She muttered an oath, disliking the treasonable reaction of her body, the sudden warmth that crept up her spine. She could ignore him, but doing so would give him power. She knew all about that kind of thing.

Stephanie had worked too hard to let anyone knowingly or unknowingly dictate what she would or would not do.

She picked up the phone. “Mr. Morgan.”

“Clint,” he insisted. “Surely, my adventure with Isobel elevates me above the ‘Mr.’ status.”

She couldn’t resist his self-deprecating charm, dang it. “Clint, then.”

“Next time, too,” he teased. “No more Mr. Morgan. I don’t answer to that.” Then his tone changed. “I hope I didn’t wake you, but I left my laptop in your truck, and right now, it’s my world. I figured a veterinarian would be up early.”

He’d figured right. In fact, she’d been up at six after a restless night. She couldn’t get him out of her mind. She’d gone over the afternoon a dozen times trying to find something out of kilter, something wrong, some sign of a major character flaw.

Maybe he was a stalker. She hadn’t given him her number.

But she certainly owed him a few minutes of time this morning. Beth would arrive at 8:30 a.m. Her first appointment was at nine. It would take her maybe fifteen minutes to deliver the laptop.

“Where is the laptop?” she asked.

“I left it down the side of the seat,” he said.

She had little choice. She owed him. She had practically thrown him out of her van yesterday.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” She hung up before he could answer.

She looked at her clothes. Jeans and a blue shirt. Good enough.

She thought about lipstick, but discarded the idea. She hadn’t had time to refresh it yesterday before picking him up and if she wore some today, he might think it was for him.

Why on God’s earth was she even thinking about him? She finished feeding the boarders and found her keys. Her dogs, Sherry and her brother, Stryker, looked at her anxiously.

“Okay,” she said. “You both can go.”

Their entire bodies wagged with delight as they followed her out the back door, then through the fence gate to the driveway where she parked the van. The dogs jumped inside, Sherry taking the passenger seat and Stryker edging behind the seat. She found the laptop lodged tightly between the seats. No wonder she hadn’t noticed it.

For a moment, she wondered whether he left it there on purpose, but why would he? He certainly had reasons to be distracted. Injured vet. New town. New home. Bruised foot. She pictured him again in her head. He was maybe in his midthirties, possibly a year or two younger than she. She had no idea—Josh had been as reticent about Clint Morgan as he had been about himself.

She didn’t need to know more. She wasn’t interested. She had Sherry, a trained search-and-rescue dog, and Stryker, a rescue dog in training. She had a horse stabled at Eve and Josh’s ranch and loved riding on Sunday mornings and whenever else she had time. She had a satisfying practice that paid the bills.

Living quarters? She lived in the apartment above the practice. It was spacious, practical and cheap, and she didn’t need more. It was good to have someone in residence while boarding other people’s pets. Her fenced backyard served as an adventure land for dogs with an agility track, balls and pull toys.

Life on the whole was good. More than good. She had no intention of changing it.

Why did she think this newcomer could change it? He was nothing more than a passing stranger. She had learned hard lessons, and she damned well wasn’t going to forget them. Still, she had slept terribly last night. Clint’s warm dark eyes constantly interrupted it.

She drove slowly, so slowly it took her more than the ten minutes she’d promised. It seemed strange to drive to the cabin that Josh Manning had made his own. She remembered the first time she had met Amos, Josh’s ex-military dog with a bad case of PTSD. It was seeing Josh with the dog that convinced her most of the rest of town was wrong about him...

She grabbed the laptop and stepped out of the truck. Sherry and Stryker waited until she gave them permission to jump out.

Clint sat on a swing in the screen porch, a cup in his hand. A crutch leaned on the wall behind him. He started to get up.

All he needed was to be knocked down by her dogs, compounding her sins against him. Still, Stryker and Sherry were well mannered. They were protection, a distraction against...against what?

“Come on, guys.” They followed her to the porch. Clint Morgan was standing when she reached the steps.

“I wish you wouldn’t stand,” she said. “I suspect Doc told you to stay off that foot.”

“Did you stay off your feet?” he asked. “You said it had happened to you several times.”

“No,” she admitted. “But I had patients to care for.”

A shadow crossed his face, then vanished so quickly she wondered whether she’d imagined it.

His gaze left her face and went to the dogs. Sherry pushed her way to him and held out her paw. He took it, then turned to Stryker. “Who is this?”

“Sherry’s brother, Stryker.”

Clint sat back in the swing and offered his hand to Stryker, who sniffed it suspiciously, then wagged his tail slowly.

“There’s coffee in the pot inside,” Clint said as Stryker moved back to her side.

“I can’t stay. I have patients.”

“Can you refill my cup, then? It’s not easy to carry...”

She would swear she saw a twinkle in his eye, but how could she say no? So much for running in with the laptop and leaving. Then she noticed it was still in her hands. “Where do you want this?”

“The table in the living room is near a plug, and I’m sure the batteries need charging.”

She opened the door, turned back when the dogs started to follow. “Stay,” she told the two dogs who promptly sat next to her nemesis.

“And would you put some bread in the toaster?”

Now she knew. Payback for the cow.

But she did as he asked. The sooner she did, the quicker she could leave. Cow or not, there was a limit. She hurried inside before he thought of another errand. She placed the laptop on the table, found an outlet and plugged it in. She strode into the kitchen. A major inroad had been made in the open loaf of bread. An open package of cheese lay next to it, along with two dirty dishes and two empty glasses.

She tucked two pieces of bread in a toaster and washed dishes while she waited for them to toast. The kitchen was well stocked with appliances. Josh had probably left behind all the stuff he’d bought for the cabin when he moved in with Eve. She wondered what Eve would think of the newcomer. Most likely, she wouldn’t share her own misgivings. Eve liked everyone, and everyone liked Eve.

The toast popped up. She buttered the two pieces, filled a cup with coffee and took both outside.

“Thank you,” he said. “While you’re here, could you also bring the jar of jam in the fridge?” This time he made no attempt to disguise his amusement.

She gritted her teeth and returned to the kitchen, found the jam. She grabbed a knife to go with it, and returned to the porch. He gave her a bland look as he scratched Stryker’s ears who, in turn, groaned in delight.

Traitor.

“I appreciate you bringing the dogs,” he said. “A friendly tail is welcome.”

She didn’t know whether it was a rebuke or whether she imagined it. “You’ve had dogs?” He seemed so natural with her two.

“Nope. Always wanted one, but I was never any place long enough.”

“Not even as a kid?”

The shadow returned to his face. “No,” he said without elaborating.

She hated that his answers were so...uninformative. That part of him was like Josh although the delivery was softer.

She was curious despite herself. “Are you from the west? I can’t place your accent.”

“No, but I did some survival training here. I like the mountains.”

He obviously wasn’t going to say anything more. “I have to go,” she said. “Four-legged patients.”

He nodded. “Thanks for bringing the laptop. And breakfast.”

Stephanie decided to leave before he wanted anything else. “Sherry, Stryker, come.” She opened the porch door.

Sherry glanced back at Clint as if reluctant to leave, then trotted toward the van. The dogs jumped inside and Stephanie drove off without looking back.

* * *

CLINT WATCHED THE VAN disappear between the tall pines that lined the dirt drive. The lake was just barely visible. To the left were the mountains. It was cool this morning, and the scent of pine freshened the air. It was, in a word, peaceful.

Stephanie had certainly spiced it. Something about her challenged him, and he hadn’t realized how badly he needed a challenge. He’d drifted since the morning he’d awakened from a coma and discovered he might never fly again. He hadn’t been willing to explore a future without it. He’d refused to make plans.

Dr. Payne had pried and prodded, suggesting he contact his father. The shrink knew from Clint’s record that Frank Morgan was alive. But he wasn’t alive to Clint and never would be. He hadn’t talked to him since he was eighteen. A far as he knew, his father had never tried to contact him, either.

He wanted nothing to do with him now.

But now it was time to stop feeling sorry for himself. What was done was done, and he needed to decide his next step. He’d had a plan before the accident: obtain a degree in computer engineering and eventually work in helicopter computer systems. He was damned good at operation and repair. Better than most of the chopper mechanics. Now he didn’t know whether he could work around choppers without flying.

Maybe he would switch to computer programming. In any event, the enrollment for online sessions at the University of Maryland was over. He would have to wait for the next quarter.

He hobbled back inside and opened his laptop to check emails. There were a number from pilots in his unit in Afghanistan. No losses, thank God, but some close calls. A woman had joined their unit as a pilot. She wasn’t the first, but it was still a novelty. The weather was fierce as usual, hot as hell during the day and freezing cold at night. They envied him.

The last was a lie, and he knew it. Most of his buddies, especially those without families, would prefer being in that godforsaken country to being back home. Like him, they would miss the adrenaline rushes that beat any other feeling, the exhilaration of a successful mission, the camaraderie between missions. He didn’t allow himself to think about the bad stuff.

He closed his email and plugged “Stephanie Phillips, Covenant Falls, veterinarian” into a search engine.

Not much. No website. No background information. Several newspaper articles, though, most of them involving search-and-rescue missions. One mentioned she was also a volunteer firefighter. He found a candid photo of an exhausted-looking Stephanie and Sherry apparently being thanked by a mother holding a child. Search-and-Rescue Team Find Five-Year-Old, the caption reported.

It was another side of his chauffeur from yesterday. An intriguing lady, indeed.

That was it for information. Someone really had to work at privacy not to have more.

He closed the computer. He was damned restless, but his foot precluded the long hike he would have liked. He went into the second bedroom, which contained a single bed and two bookcases filled with books. He rifled through them. An interesting mixture. Biographies. Novels. History. His host obviously had eclectic taste.

He found a suspense novel, moved slowly to the kitchen for a glass of water and took both to the porch.

He settled in the swing and opened the book, but couldn’t concentrate on the words. Too many other images crowded into his mind: his last combat mission, the rush of adrenaline as he pulled Rangers out of a killing zone, the military doctor’s verdict, or lack of one. He hated feeling powerless. He’d lived with it too long as a boy.

He needed that control back. He couldn’t sit here and read a book on someone else’s dime.

He removed his cell phone from his pocket and punched in Josh’s number.