Laura Altom - Her Military Man

“Don’t do that,” he said, swinging about to watch as she hustled back to the sink to wash vegetables.

“Do what?” she oh so innocently sang over her shoulder.

It was no family secret the woman had been after him to settle down and give her grandkids for the past five years. But if she was for one second by way of reverse psychology suggesting he look up Constance, she could forget it. He’d been trained in all manner of mental warfare and he wasn’t about to succumb. “Never mind,” he grumbled. “Need help?”

She winked. “Only if you’re offering to get me a few dozen grandkids.”

MONDAY AFTERNOON after the longest, dullest weekend ever—but wait, he’d already barely survived that the weekend before—Garret sat in an entirely too girly white wicker rocker on the front porch of his mother’s house, trying to remember the last time he’d had fun.

For mid-April, the heat was fierce. Hot sun made even the usually blaring cicadas too weary to sing. Having been based on the East Coast for so long, he’d forgotten what Oklahoma heat was like—and this wasn’t anywhere near the prime of it.

He swigged bottled water, wishing it was beer, but his mom had strict rules about not drinking before five, and seeing how he was already in piss-poor shape, it probably wasn’t that hot of an idea to screw up his liver in addition to his leg.

Lord, how he wanted out of Mule Shoe and back to his own place in Virginia. Not that he was in the studio condo all that much, but it was the point of the matter. He needed his own space.

Far from memories being back here evoked.

Hard to believe that after all this time, after all he’d been through, all that old angst over Constance was still there. Simmering just beneath the surface.

Sitting here in the sweltering sun, if he closed his eyes and held his breath, he’d be back to their first time.

A sun-drenched May afternoon when he’d picked her up in Big Red—his old Chevy truck—for a day at the swimming hole on the backside of the Underwood land. The pond had a rock bottom and was spring-fed, meaning the water was clear and cool. Stubby oaks and maples and a few odd cedars provided dappled shade, save for the one grassy bank his dad had cleared for his mom years earlier where he’d planned on building her a gazebo. He’d died before making it happen, but at that moment, seeing how perfect the spot was for Constance to settle her oil-slicked bikini-clad bod on top of her towel, Garret was damn glad there wasn’t a gazebo mucking up the view.

Lord, Connie had been beautiful. Legs so long that every time he’d seen her in her cheerleading uniform, he’d been glad for the protection of his own football uniform’s cup.

The afternoon started out casual enough as they shared chips and Twinkies and talked in the blazing sun. Not before and not since had he ever felt more comfortable opening himself up to a woman. She’d had this way of looking at him—staring right into his soul. Made him spill secrets that in retrospect had been better off left inside. But he’d been a kid. Stupid in love. Stupid in the way she’d made him feel like the star of her life. As if being with her, he could do and be all things. With every part of his being, he’d secretly fantasized that one day, Connie would be his wife.

Later, they’d swum and laughed and took turns dunking each other. But then, he wasn’t even sure how, maybe because of the way water drops sparkled in her dark hair, he’d kissed her.

They’d been going out since just before Halloween, so it wasn’t as if he hadn’t kissed her before. Hell, most Saturday nights they’d round second base, sometimes even third, but something about this day was different. Never had they been so absolutely alone with nothing bearing witness but the blue, blue sky and a few chattering squirrels.

Maybe he’d kissed her with such urgency because it would be a long time before he saw her again.

In his heart, where it mattered, she’d always be his. For the time being, though, he’d known parting ways was for the best.

He’d already signed his enlistment papers, seeing how for as long as he could remember, he’d wanted to join the SEALs’s legendary ranks. She’d be heading off for Norman—to the University of Oklahoma, where she’d be taking godforsaken history courses that’d put him in a coma. Truthfully, other than burning lust for each other, they didn’t have a thing in common. She was book smart. He was a jock, obsessed with getting in tough enough physical and mental shape to make it through BUD/S training.

With all that in mind, mixed with a good dose of apprehension and excitement for his future, too young and stupid to have put on the brakes for nobility’s sake, Garret had kissed her more. Then, with a big romantic whoosh, hefted her out of the water and into his arms, carrying her back to their towels and the sun.

Hot as it was, it didn’t take two seconds for them to dry and for the realization to kick in that, come mid-June when he shipped out for boot camp, it’d be a good, long while before he saw Connie again. At the thought, emotion swelled his chest, making it so tight, he hurt.

For the longest time, they just stared at each other, and then they were kissing again and he was fumbling to untie her bikini top needing her so bad he could hardly think. Every time she moaned against him, she made him want her more, so when she arched up to meet him, they were both struggling to yank off their still-damp swim bottoms.

Sweet lord, she’d been hot and slick and welcoming. The first few seconds had been awkward, but then she’d pulled him back for another kiss, and the rest was history.

A sweaty, crazy erotic joining that by all rational accounts of first times shouldn’t have been that great, but to his way of thinking, was just about as close to heaven as he’d ever get on this earth.

After their first time, for those precious last few weeks before graduation, they’d discovered practice really did make perfect.

Now, see? he thought, rolling the sweating water bottle along his forehead. Memories like that were no good. He’d loved her, had hoped to marry her when he’d returned from training. To have caught her kissing his best friend stung—bad. He had no need for her, either in or out of bed.

As for Nathan, he hadn’t spoken two words to the guy in the past ten years.

Garret eyed a rising dust cloud caused by a small sedan flying down the dirt road running in front of his mother’s house. A faint breeze carried the dust storm right up onto the front porch, leaving him coughing and feeling none too kindly toward whoever the too-fast, inconsiderate schmuck was who’d just now turned into his mom’s driveway.

Taking another swig of water, he watched through narrowed eyes as the dust settled, but sun glinting off the windshield made it impossible to see the driver. Whoever it was turned off the engine, took a second, then opened the door with a screech loud enough to startle a fence-sitting crow into cawing flight.

The driver rose, giving him a view of sleek, dark hair attached to a creamy-complexioned face partially obstructed by oversize black sunglasses. Dressed in a severely cut black pantsuit, she took her time tiptoeing—no, prancing—across the gravel drive. Didn’t want to scratch those three-inch heels?

The closer the woman came, the more his stomach fisted.

No. No freakin’ way.

Hidden as he’d been by sweet-smelling lilac bushes, Garret guessed he must’ve been as big a shock to Constance as she was to him. Only no, that couldn’t be, seeing how she was invading his turf.

“Garret,” she said, holding out her slim, lily-white hand for him to shake.

Trying hard to be adult about the situation, Garret nodded from where he sat, then crossed his arms. With the image of her sun-bronzed naked body still burning behind his eyes, the only thing he could think to say was a slow-drawled, “See you’ve been keepin’ out of the sun.”

“Is…is that why you’re in town?” Constance asked, ignoring the man’s ridiculous question while withdrawing her hand. She gestured toward his left leg, which, judging by the odd angle at which he held it, he seemed to favor.

Never had she been so glad for the protective cover of sunglasses so he wouldn’t see her gaping at the man he’d become. Garret had always been a big boy, but now…

Her mouth went dry, trying so very hard to forget their last few days—and nights—together.

Now…Garret Underwood was all man.

Even slouching as he was in one of his mom’s feminine wicker chairs, there was no hiding the sinewy strength lurking beneath the too-tight sleeves of his camo-green T-shirt. His chest and shoulders were broad, his chiseled facial features and molasses eyes stone cold. Even his dark, spiky, short hair looked foreboding, as though any warmth he might’ve once had toward her was long gone and never coming back.

His only answer to her question about his leg was “Yep.”

“How long have you been back?” she asked, forging ahead not because she wanted to, but because her boss had given her no choice. As a single mom, she had responsibilities that went far beyond what she wanted to do. In making sure Lindsay was always comfortable and happy, Constance had mastered the sometimes tough art of doing what she had to. Period. Yes, talking to Garret was awkward, but it had to be done. Which was why she was now sucking it up and trying to make the best of what he had apparently decided to make an untenable situation.

“Too long.”

Maintaining a polite front, she said, “It was, um, lovely talking with you the other afternoon. Assuming that was you who called my show?”

“You know damned well it was me, and how ’bout we skip the small talk and get straight to business.” He straightened with catlike ease that belied his apparent injury. “Why are you here?”

“Nice to see you, too,” she said, glancing away from him to the far-off garden where his mother staked tomatoes. A bee hummed nearby, close enough for Constance to hear, but not give her an excuse to run.

He just stared.

“All right,” she said with a sigh. “If that’s how you want it. Truth is, this is the last place I want to be, but that big mouth of yours has me over a barrel.”

Wishing he’d had the foresight to grab his sunglasses before heading out to the porch, Garret winced. As much as he despised the cheating wench, he still wanted her with a biting clarity he hadn’t felt since…

Well, since the last time he’d seen her ten years ago.

“And…” he said, coaxing her to continue with his hands, wanting more than ever to be a million miles from this town, but most especially, this woman.

“And—” she notched her proud chin higher “—as much as it pains me to say it, I need you.” Head bowed, she slipped off her jumbo glasses, allowing him a sight he doubted she wanted him to see. Her big blue eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, as if she’d spent the night crying. Why?

“The only way I can keep my job is if you agree to guest star on my show. Apparently—” she cleared her throat “—the fine folks of Mule Shoe prefer you over me.”

Judging by her defeated posture, she believed what she’d just said.

What? He hadn’t for a second thought her tears had been about him, had he?

“Seems to me,” he said, telling himself he didn’t care if her show was tanking, “what folks like isn’t so much me, but conflict. Something they don’t get a lot of when it comes to your show’s usual fare.”

“So you’re an expert?” she said, bristling.