A Holiday to Remember

by Helen R. Myers

  “Almost doesn’t count.”

  She used peroxide to clean the areas again. “The wounds don’t look very old.”

  “July Fourth.”

  “Should you even be out of the hospital yet? Your cross-country trek doesn’t seem to have been the wisest idea.”

  “Tell the chief that he makes a mean breakfast.”

  Taking the strong hint, Alana stopped asking questions. Mack could tell she had performed first aid before and had a gentle touch. No doubt she’d made his father’s last days more bearable; he certainly enjoyed her ministrations. He let himself imagine her fingers moving elsewhere, until his body told him that he was asking for trouble.

  “I didn’t mean that you had to go mute on me.”

  “You grouse just like Uncle Duke. Your wish is my command, master,” she added, bending to coo near his ear.

  Mack decided she could probably do good-cop-bad-cop all by her lonesome and make it sexy. “Everything all right at the station?”

  “Yep,” she replied, once again the girl next door. “You were the highlight of our shift. Well, Ed thought he could catch a suspicious vehicle probably transporting drugs through town, but he had to pass the call to the state police once they left our jurisdiction.”

  That tidbit of information had Mack’s fantasy of kissing her again go up in smoke. “Do you get a lot of that?”

  “Worried for me, gyrene? Or are you just trying to keep me from asking why your seven-week-old wounds are reopening?”

  “Why don’t you sit on my lap and we’ll discuss it?”

  “I may be tempted, but I’m not easy.” Finished with her task, she threw the mangled bandages into the trash canister near the back door. Then she went to wash her hands at the sink. When she was done, she poured Mack a mug of coffee and brought it to the table, then sat down beside him. “I’m going to do something I rarely do and that’s ask a favor. Please let Eberardo know soon that he can stay on.”

  Mack planned to anyway, not just because things looked well tended, but because he suspected he wouldn’t be here to see to things himself. But Alana’s request brought out the devil’s advocate in him. “Because?”

  “These are challenging times. He was born in the U.S., but not everyone treats him as though he was—especially now that Fred is gone. They wouldn’t dare do it before. Add to that, he hasn’t been lucky in love. His fiancée left him for his best friend. He’s finally in a relationship with a nurse at the hospital, who seems to have her head straight on her shoulders. It would be great if he could stay close to her in order to see if things work out between them.”

  “I’ll bow to your experienced judgment, how’s that? After all, you are the heir-in-waiting.”

  Alana cast him a droll look, then carried his empty plate to the sink. When she returned with the coffeepot, Mack lifted his mug for a refill.

  “What does your uncle say about you coming over here?”

  “He thinks I’m working on Tanker.”

  “I thought in the pictures I’ve seen that he turned gray prematurely,” Mack mused.

  With a sigh, Alana admitted, “Yeah, that and the perpetual frown between his eyebrows is mostly me.”

  “Knowing that, I’d think you’d have pity on the poor guy.”

  “I would if I could shut off my mind.” She shrugged. “Doctors wrote prescriptions, but their ideas about solutions just turned me into a zombie.”

  Mack would have liked to hear more, but she rose, signaling that she was ready to leave. “If Tanker is a dog,” he said to delay her, “your grocery bill must be something else.”

  “It’s worse than that, he’s my horse. Seventeen hands of black Westphalian beauty.” At Mack’s confused expression, she explained, “That’s how horses are measured. You take its height from hooves to withers and divide those inches by four, which is the size of a palm. In other words, he’s five-six. He eats like a pregnant sow, too, but he’s family. Fortunately for him—and us—our second business is cattle. So I help out Eberardo when he needs a hand with your stock and he helps with ours. I hope you won’t mind it staying that way. Well, at least until you get competent with the cattle yourself.”

  “I may not be around long enough to achieve that.” He nodded to the groceries. “What do I owe you for those?”

  “Your presence,” she replied. “Stay, Mack. Last Call is your birthright. Fred spent his life turning it into what it is and ached for you to do more than accept it. He hoped that someday you would embrace it.”

  She sounded so earnest. Hell, Mack thought, she looked close to crying. He had to do something before he took her into his arms and made promises he shouldn’t. “I told you, I don’t know anything about ranching. And the truth is, I’m not sure that I want to learn. All I know is soldiering.”

  She went ramrod straight, but she didn’t back down. “Let me guess...you have an offer by some civilian security firm that’ll take you back overseas as soon as you heal? Or is strip-club mama thinking you’d make a good bouncer while you learn her business?”

  As passion simmered and their gazes remained locked, Mack said slowly, “That...I would never do.”

  “I suppose that’s one thing we can be grateful for.”

  “Instead of jumping to conclusions about other people, you might try straightening out your own life.”

  The flash of pain in the depths of her eyes was almost palpable. Mack was sorry to learn his ability to hurt with words remained as keen as his marksmanship, but he’d met his match in guts and willpower in this woman, and this was no time to back down.

  “I’ve done my share,” she said at last. “I promised Uncle Duke that I wouldn’t get on a plane again.”

  “As long as he’s alive?” Mack was sensing a daredevil with a subconscious death wish, although he wished he didn’t. “So instead you drive around at night flirting with the idea that some loser high on meth, or heaven knows what, will show up and put you out of your misery?”

  Drawing a labored breath, Alana stepped around him. “This has been a blast, but I’ve had my fill of psychoanalysis. You win, gyrene. You live your life and I’ll live mine.”

  Mack took hold of her wrist. It wasn’t a threatening move—he knew his strength—in fact he was intentionally gentle and stroked his thumb against her soft skin to reassure her. “Ally...wait. I’m sorry.”

  “Let me go.”

  “I had no right to say that, particularly when I live with my own demons,” he confessed. “The truth is that I don’t think I can stay because...I can’t risk being found.”

  Chapter Three

  Whatever Alana was expecting, it wasn’t that admission. “What are you talking about?” she demanded, extricating herself from his grasp. “I ran your license through the computer after I dropped you off here, and not only are there no warrants out on you, you don’t even have a ticket to blush over.”

  “Maybe not being in-country much had a little to do with that,” Mack drawled.

  Feasible, but Alana’s mind was racing ninety miles an hour as she waited on him to be more forthcoming. No doubt her uncle had done his own checking upon reaching the station, and if he had come up with anything, her cell phone would be going crazy by now, and the secured front gate would be forced.

  Mack sighed. “Relax, it’s nothing like what you’re obviously thinking—although I’m sure certain people wouldn’t mind putting me in the brig, or insist on another mental evaluation on top of those that are mandatory at the end of every deployment.”

  “Oh, yeah, that was reassuring.”

  “I’m trying.” Mack started to reach for her again, caught himself and, running his hand over his hair, turned away. “You’re right about the fact that I should still be in the hospital—or should have stayed longer than I did. But when I learned that they wanted to give me a citation, I didn’t hang around to accept it.”

  She just knew those wounds had been a result of something very brave and heroic. “You risked your health for that
? What kind of citation?” she asked, her suspicion growing.

  “It’s the Navy Cross.”

  Thinking of a young soldier who was recently in the news for resisting the Medal of Honor, she didn’t bother asking why on earth Mack was refusing his award. If he was anywhere close to being as modest, she had to respect his choice as much as she admired his valor. “That’s a big deal.”

  “It should be.”

  “But you don’t believe you deserve it?”

  “I know I don’t.”

  There was only one question to ask. “Will you tell me what happened?”

  “No.”

  She expected that blunt reply. She was private in her own way, but he was a black hole in comparison. On the other hand, how did you escape the United States Government? “Isn’t it the Secretary of the Navy who presents those? You left the hospital knowing that you were snubbing him?”

  “I didn’t snub anyone, I politely but firmly said at the moment they gave me the news that I don’t believe I deserve it.” He did, however, give her a wary glance. “So no one has gone into my records enough to realize I have a father here and tried to contact him?”

  “Is your answering machine full of calls? I know there’s been nothing happening at the police station. But wait a minute—isn’t this akin to being AWOL or something?”

  “I did enough paperwork in the hospital that they can’t legitimately call me that. I can imagine a few people are ticked off, though. You don’t deny the brass their chances in front of cameras.”

  Alana had to agree there. They had experienced enough situations in their little town to confirm that you didn’t deny politicians their publicity, either. But thinking about how weak he must have been to start a journey from Virginia to Texas on foot, how risky that had been, she shook her head. “Are you sure that you don’t want to contact your mother to let her know you’re alive? What if they’ve contacted her?”

  “Then I hope she has the decency to tell them that we haven’t been in touch in years and otherwise stays away from TV cameras.”

  That was a hard perspective, but Alana hadn’t experienced what he obviously had at her hands. “I’m sorry that you grew up in a broken home. Sorry that you were taken away from this.” She gestured toward the window and the hundreds of acres of pristine pasture, ponds. “Maybe it wouldn’t have taught you the survival instincts your street education obviously did, but you definitely wouldn’t be in a hurry to walk away as you are now.”

  “Street education,” Mack said with a snort. “Talk about understatements. My mother never wanted me, she took me to win against the old man, that’s all. Once she hooked up with Vince, the creep who convinced her to invest her divorce settlement into his business, I was an inconvenience. But she still wouldn’t let me come back here. You know what kind of schools you attend when you live in neighborhoods where those clubs are located?”

  “I don’t want to imagine,” Alana replied. “It’s a testament to your strength that you got through it.”

  “Got through alive.”

  Accepting that there was nothing she could say that would soften the scorn Mack felt for the years he’d struggled to survive, and the people who put him through that, Alana sought to focus on what she could do. “You’re clearly looking to start over yet again. Or at least do some serious thinking. I’ll say it again—this is the place for you. I just feel it.” At his first sign of frustration, she reached out to touch his arm in an appeal to hear her out. “You can still keep a low profile for a while. Eberardo will understand and assist you. I can talk to him if you prefer, and I’ll help, too.”

  “Don’t even think of turning me into your pet patient,” Mack all but growled. “I’m not my father, and I sure as hell don’t need you.”

  He didn’t just stiff-arm people, he pushed them away. It was ironic that having lost most of her family as she had, the gene that triggered fear had been pulverized by that experience.

  “Your father wasn’t my pet anything,” she said, all but going nose to nose with him. “He was a Texas cattleman—proud, ornery and determined. He may have hidden from you that his heart was broken, but at least he never once spoke to me the way you are.”

  “Then maybe talking is a waste.”

  This time when Mack kissed her, there wasn’t the inconvenience of a patrol car’s console and paraphernalia between them. This time he could sweep an arm around her waist and lock her against him so tightly there were few secrets left between them. Alana knew that he could feel she wore no bra beneath the jersey and tank top, and she could feel he was aroused even before he deepened the kiss into a sensual assault.

  It was soon a toss-up as to whose heart pounded harder or faster. Alana knew she could end this easily enough. She had enough training in self-defense, although she knew his own skills—along with his size—would make any break of his hold only a temporary thing. Besides, his kisses were much better than his anger. Much.

  When he lifted his head to suck in a much-needed breath, his challenge was as bold as his kisses had been. “You want me to stay? Make me.”

  Was he really challenging her to seduce him? In his condition? “I’m not going to be responsible for putting you back in the hospital.”

  “You think a lot of yourself,” he taunted.

  Alana refused to take the bait. “If you had an ounce of sense in that thick skull, you’d thank me. I’ve seen your back. There’s no telling what you look like inside. Now it’s still possible for you to live here quietly for another week or two. Recuperate from the damage you may have done to yourself. If you push your luck, as you are, when you do wind up hospitalized, the first thing they’ll do is wire back east for your medical records, and all of your grand plans to hide from those looking for you will have been for nothing.”

  “Do I have your word that you’ll see that others will keep my presence under wraps?”

  Word could already be spreading around town. “I’ll do what damage control I can, and I’m sure so will the chief as soon as I pass on your wishes. I don’t know how successful he’ll be if word has leaked to the editor-in-chief of the local newspaper.”

  “Are you trying to talk me into this idea of yours or out of it?” Mack demanded.

  “I said I’ll do everything I can. Do we have a deal?”

  “Provided you also keep bringing me breakfast and keep my refrigerator stocked. Not Eberardo. You.” After a pause, he added, “You can write yourself a check from the same checkbook you’ve been paying other bills with.”

  “You’re lucky that I bank in the next town to avoid exactly the kind of gossip something like that would raise.” Alana shook her head at what she was getting into. Duke definitely didn’t need to know about these finer details. “I guess I can manage that for a week or so. But after that—”

  “We renegotiate.”

  With an arch look, she asked, “Meaning by then you expect to feel well enough to include sex to the

  deal?”

  “Oh, that’s going to happen anyway.”

  * * *

  While driving home, Alana called Eberardo’s number and explained the way Mack wanted to work things for now. “I say this in confidence,” she added to impart on him that his loyalty was critical. “Mack is still recovering from wounds. He needs another week or so before he should be moving around normally. The fewer people who know he’s here recuperating, the easier it will be on him.”

  “Anything I can do, you let me know, Señorita Ally.”

  Alana knew to expect less enthusiasm and far more questions when she called her uncle. It would probably have been a good idea to drive into town, but her insides were still carrying the vibrations of Mack’s kisses. If any of that showed in her eyes or behavior, Duke would see it.

  “Can you talk?” she asked upon hearing his voice.

  “Styles and Dodge are here, but we’re done with business. Just shooting the breeze.”

  She could picture the burly man with a voice to match sit
ting with Mayor Jim Styles, a happily married father of four, and D.A. Lewis Dodge who, if it wasn’t a court day, was probably dressed for fishing. “Did you say anything yet about our mutual new friend?”

  “So far that sounds more like your description of the individual than mine, but to answer your question, no. It hasn’t come up,” Duke replied. “Hang on a second. Okay, gentlemen, I’ve got to get back to earning a nickel. See you at lunch, Jim.”

  Alana heard the murmur of farewells and then her uncle’s grunt as he rose to shut his office door. “Sorry to intrude,” she told him.

  “To apologize you can tell me why you’re on the phone at this hour and not sleeping.” Duke replied. He grunted again as he resumed his seat.

  Figuring her news would be explanation enough, she replied, “Mack has decided to hang around for a while. That decision comes with strings attached.”

  “Does it now? And how did you come by this information?”

  Darn, she thought, he wasn’t going to like this part. “I brought him breakfast. Look, he had nothing in the house and he wasn’t even sounding agreeable to giving the place a chance. I learned there was an interesting reason for that attitude.”

  “I can’t wait to hear it.”

  “He doesn’t want his whereabouts known.” The pause on her uncle’s side of the phone spoke fathoms and Alana added quickly, “There’s nothing on his record.”

  “Believe me, I’m aware of that. Do you think I didn’t check myself first thing after I got here?”

  The challenge would have had anyone in the office on pins and needles, but Alana thought she had the facts on her side. “His reason is entirely personal. He was wounded on his last deployment and he left the hospital before he should have. You see, he was supposed to receive the Navy Cross. Don’t ask me for details, he refused to tell me. The point is that he doesn’t want it.”

  “What kind of fool turns down that kind of honor?” Duke scoffed.

  “A humble one? Someone who doesn’t feel he deserves it?” Alana knew he remembered the recent incident in the news, too, because they’d discussed it.