She’d given a significant part of her life to criminals and trying to figure out the why—usually to do with the past. Now it was time to focus on the future.
“You doing okay?” Max had to duck his head to stop from bashing it on the roof as he crawled forward. Allie chuckled and sat back, finding herself instantly enveloped in the arms of the man she loved.
“I’m doing okay. Cole stopped in to see Jack en route to the party.”
“So I heard. Detective Awesome is going to be okay.”
Allie nodded. “Eventually.” The bullet that had missed his vest had done serious damage. It would be six to eight months before he was back to full strength again, although he was already showing signs of his usual crankiness. Another positive. “We’ll make sure of it.”
When the silence stretched, Max began to shift, as he always did when he sat still for so long. “You want to go?” She looked up at him and then realized he’d been trying to reach into his pocket.
“No, I do not, actually. I just didn’t expect such a tight...ah! Fit. Geez.” He sagged against the wall and exhaled. “You just never make things easy for me, do you, Doc?”
“Nope. And I don’t plan to start.” She sat up, a hand on his chest as he held out a small square box. “What’s that?” Her heart slammed against her still-sore ribs.
He gave her that grin that made her heart race. “What do you think it is?” He flicked open the box, turned it around so she could see it. “I went shopping with Eden and Simone the other day but didn’t really see anything that screamed Allie.”
“I didn’t realize rings screamed,” Allie teased, and then, when she looked more closely at the simple, square-cut diamond ring, her throat tightened. Her vision blurred. “That’s Eden’s mom’s ring.”
“It is.” He lifted his arm from around her and plucked the ring free. “Eden told me how her mom and dad thought of you as one of their own. They loved you, Allie.”
She nodded. “I loved them, too.” Losing them to a drunk driver when she and Eden were fifteen had been another fracture in her childhood. “They welcomed me into their home from the beginning. They even gave me a key.” And she’d never had the chance to tell them how much being a part of their lives had meant to her, how much strength they’d given her.
“So we all know Eden isn’t exactly a sentimentalist when it comes to her own life,” Max joked.
“Hence the quickie wedding in Tahoe,” Allie said.
“She thought maybe you’d like to have it. There’s only one catch.” He sighed, an overly dramatic sigh that had Allie both laughing and sobbing. “I come with it.” Max angled it into the sun and watched it glint rainbows against her childhood refuge. “But the good news is, I’ve got a job now and I come with a family who loves you almost as much as I do. And I like your friends.”
“My family,” Allie whispered as she held out her trembling hand. “They like you, too. I think it’s a deal I can live with, Shaggy.”
“Oh, that’s the other catch. I have to get a haircut. And shave.” He grimaced. “Vince’s rules. I need to look less beach-dude and more professional.”
“That might take some getting used to.” She straddled him, squeezed her knees around his thighs as she leaned in to wag her fingers in front of him. “Would you please put that on me already?”
“Last chance to change your mind.” But he didn’t wait another second. The white-gold band slipped easily on her finger and settled right where it belonged.
“Yes” hovered on her lips as she heard a giggle beneath the tree house. Allie brushed her fingers over his face, leaned back to look out the window.
There, standing in the tall grass, looking up, was a little girl with red pigtails, a crooked smile and sagging overalls. She kicked up one bright turquoise shoe, did a quick dance before she waved, turned around and skipped off, fading straight into the shimmering sunbeams.
“Bye, Chloe,” Allie whispered and smiled when Max rubbed his hand down her back.
“So what do you say, Doc? Ready to start a new life?”
She nodded, tears in her eyes. She’d waited so long for something and someone special to come into her life. No more. She grabbed hold of Max’s face, kissed him hard, completely and with every ounce of love she could muster. “I love you, Max. And yes.” She took a deep breath, held it and let everything go. “I’m ready.”
* * * * *
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Navy SEAL Protector
by Bonnie Vanak
Chapter 1
No one was kicking her out of her home, even if she had to work double shifts until she dropped.
Shelby Stillwater swiped a hand across her sweating brow, righted the white cowboy hat on her head and then watched as the bartender poured another frosty pitcher of golden beer. Friday night at the Bucking Bronc Steak House. Tips should be good tonight, as long as she could avoid the ungentlemanly slurs and smile, smile, smile.
Brown curls bobbing as she walked and the white fringe at the hem of her short skirt swaying like reeds in a hard wind, she carried the pitcher to table fourteen. The gray-haired geezer with a belly spilling in a waterfall over his silver belt buckle tried to squeeze her bottom, but she danced away.
“C’mere, sweet thang,” he called out in a slur. “Lemme take another look at you.”
Look at this, she silently fumed, tempted to flip him her middle finger. Instead, she headed for another table, pad in hand, her back and feet feeling as if twin weights were dumped on them. The group of ten businessmen from Nashville had ordered enough food to feed a small country. Their bill was solidly into the triple digits and they might give her a triple-digit tip if she could avoid the octopus with the wandering hands.
A big tip meant a store-bought cake instead of homemade for Timmy. His sixth birthday was in a few days and she planned to celebrate it in style.
Shelby bustled through orders, patiently allowing a patron to switch tables three times “because the lighting isn’t good here,” and returned a steak when a grumpy woman said it was rare, ev
en though the woman had ordered it extra rare. She generally liked waitressing and most guests were well-mannered locals who treated her well. But with the big country-music convention in the next town this weekend, the out-of-town guests were taxing her patience.
Shelby returned the credit card to table fourteen. Waterfall Belly belched, signed the check and the men left, talking loudly.
She peeked at the bill and stared at the tip.
A measly twelve dollars for a three-hundred-and-fifty-dollar bill? Anger simmered, but she refused to surrender to it. Already skating on thin ice with Bill, if she ran after the customers and told them what she thought of their “tip,” then...
Instead, she shoved the check into her apron and pushed on.
Later, she’d kick off the white cowboy boots, put up her feet and have a glass of white wine while watching Steel Magnolias, a favorite comfort movie. Gone were the days when her mother, in a rare moment of sobriety, would cuddle up next to her on the sofa and they’d watch the movie while munching on a tub of popcorn. Mom had named her after the tragic Shelby in the film. This Shelby preferred to think she was more the Ouiser type, tough and pragmatic.
I’m more like a tin daisy. But I’ve had it worse.
Living in her family’s car when they were evicted because her daddy couldn’t hold down a job was worse. Going to school in ragged clothing that she’d mended herself because Mama was sleeping off a hangover was worse.
But eighteen years ago, when Silas Anderson gave her father a job at the Belle Creek Ranch, things started to turn around. A sudden bout of grief made her pause and catch her breath. Silas had died last week. Funeral tomorrow. She’d felt genuine sorrow for the man’s passing. Silas had been more of a father to her than her drunken dad.
She’d put her own money into the ranch, reducing her salary for the job she did as the ranch bookkeeper, and paid for small repairs when things got broken. Lately, lots of things had been broken. Shelby would do anything to keep her little apartment above the garage. The Belle Creek was home. Silas and Dan, his nephew and the ranch manager, had allowed her to live rent-free for the past ten years.
Even though the ranch could face foreclosure, she felt confident things would work out with her help.
Timmy loved the ranch, more than he adored cake. I’ll make Timmy the biggest, best birthday cake with his favorite cinnamon icing. Maybe add sprinkles—he’s crazy about colored sprinkles...
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a grizzled, silver-headed man sit at a booth in her section. He wore a faded olive drab jacket decorated with many patches. Old Vern, who’d served many tours in ’Nam. Shelby forgot about the lousy tip. With a big smile, she headed for him.
“Hi, Vern. How are you?”
The elderly man brightened. “Right as rain, Shelby.”
For a few minutes she listened to him talk about everything from the weather to his grandchildren. Vern came in every Friday, probably for the company. He lived alone, and she knew he had little money. So every Friday, she paid for his meal on the sly, telling him they had a “special” for vets.
Seeing her manager frown and start toward her, she promised Vern to put in his order straightaway.
After doing so, head pounding from the grinding country music pumping through the speakers, her feet hurting, Shelby decided to steal a five-minute break. She headed into the back room that served as the employee quarters. Rows of steel-gray lockers lined the walls, where the women and men could safely stash valuables. There was a painkiller calling her name right now and...
Shelby ground to an abrupt halt.
The padlock on her locker hung open. Someone had snipped it clean through, probably with bolt cutters. Same as last Friday night.
Blood pulsing through her body, breathing ragged, she whipped her head around. No one about. Not even the lingering odor of cigarette smoke that hung in the air when Ann sneaked back here to take a few puffs.
Who could have done this?
She had to find out. If someone stole her purse, her one credit card that wasn’t already maxed out...
Or worse.
Shelby inched toward the locker, eyes pinned to the dangling padlock. With a hand that shook, she removed the lock and set it down on the bench seat. Please, don’t let it be like last week...
One, two, three!
She flung open the door and stepped back.
A nauseating odor slammed into her and she gagged. Shelby blinked hard, looking at the top shelf and the cause of the noxious smell.
A dead rat.
Shelby grabbed her purse where it hung on a hook inside the locker, her fingers fumbling for the clasp. Sure enough, just like last week, a white note with typed letters was stuffed inside it.
Leave the Belle Creek before we make you leave.
Shelby dropped her purse. Bile rose in her throat, but she forced it down. Had to get rid of the rat before some happy customer came tripping back here in search of the restroom, freaked and called the county board of health. If Bill saw this, he’d fire her. Last week someone had dumped a dozen dead cockroaches into her locker. Bill had seen those and written her up. The manager had been on her case because Natalie, the new owner, had disliked Shelby ever since high school.
Shelby found a black plastic garbage bag and gloves. The dead rat was out the door and into the Dumpster shortly after. As she washed her hands in the bathroom sink, Ann sauntered into the ladies room.
Ann stopped short and gave her a quizzical look. “You okay, Shel? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
No, a dead rat. “Just tired.”
Her friend dabbed on fresh lipstick and touched up her hair. “Well, I’ve got something to put the spark back in your tank. Sexy-guy alert, table nine. Panty-melting hot.”
“Takes a lot more than sexy to dissolve my underwear,” Shelby joked back.
“You need a life,” her friend said with a good-natured grin. “Or don’t wear panties at all. Want to grab a drink after work at the Tipsy Cowboy?”
Ann had a brazen attitude, bleached blond hair and wore her skirts too high, but she was the best friend Shelby ever had.
“Rain check. Dan’s wife is babysitting Timmy as a favor and I don’t want to be late.”
Ann patted her shoulder. “You work too hard, hon. Let me know if I can help in any way.”
The kindness nearly made her dissolve into tears. Ann had boarded her horse at the Belle Creek, giving the ranch much-needed income, even if it was only rough board and not full. Shelby smiled. “You’ve already done enough, hon. I’ll be fine.”
As her friend left, Shelby realized the dull throbbing behind her temples had turned into a fierce headache. She stashed her purse behind boxes of sanitary napkins in the employee lounge and headed back onto the floor. Maybe the rest of the night would be uneventful. Please let it be calm, please...
The devil himself sat at table nine.
She forgot to breathe, forgot the dead rat in her locker. Forgot who she was. Good thing she wore a brass tag with her name on it. Time rolled back in a fog.
That kiss, those sinfully sexy eyes, smoldering at her as he lowered his mouth to hers...
You never forgot your first kiss. And no woman who still had a pulse ever forgot Nick Anderson.
Dark blond hair curled at the ends as it rested against the collar of his black shirt. He wore it longer now, and he was thicker in the shoulders and chest. He was a man now, instead of the teenager he’d been when she’d sobbed and told him to get out of her life. Still had the same languid grace as he relaxed back in the imitation-leather booth, his dark gaze scanning the restaurant with the same cool, searing intensity displayed ten years ago. Nick looked hungry, as if he needed a good meal...or a bad woman.
Already the dynamic inside the Bucking Bronc had changed. Female waitstaff sas
hayed instead of scurried and the men stood a little taller. No one here could best Nick’s six feet three inches. Or his mouth...
Two men stopped by his table and chatted. Nick’s heroism as a former Navy SEAL was a source of pride in these parts. She overheard a few invite him to sit with them and pay for his dinner, but Nick politely refused.
He must be back for his dad’s funeral. She’d been so busy trying to find ways to save his father’s ranch, she’d almost forgotten he existed.
Almost.
Shelby took her order pad from her apron. Tonight she had to have a steel backbone. Forget the honey-sweet flower attitude. The man deserved pure vinegar.
Be courteous. The pencil nearly snapped in her tight grip. “May I take your drink order?”
He turned. Soft light from the overhead lamp put the angles of his face into sharp relief. Shelby bit back a gasp at the jagged scar carved on one angular cheek. It looked as if a vicious animal had torn his skin apart.
It made him no less handsome; indeed, it made him look more ruthless and dangerous.
Nick dropped the guarded expression, replaced it with a heavy-lidded assessment. “Shelby Stillwater. You are a lovely sight for weary eyes like mine. What are you doing here, darling?”
At sixteen, the compliment would have thrilled her. Now she was older and wiser to his charms. “I’m working. And you?”
Nick’s gaze shuttered and a slight tension rippled through his muscled body. “I returned for the funeral.”
His Deep South accent was barely noticeable. And this Nick was different. Still charming and suave, but something lurked beneath the surface. Not the scar—Shelby dismissed that, for she’d never let such superficial markings bother her. But shadows lingered in his dark eyes.
Gone in the Night Page 24