Adam (7 Brides for 7 Soldiers Book 2)

by Roxanne St Claire

  “Jane McAllen.”

  “’Kay. Got it,” Noah said. “Look, I’ve been called out. Don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but I’ll be in touch, or I’ll have Kenny call you if he comes up with anything interesting. Good?”

  “Yeah, that’d be great.”

  “Will do. Talk to you soon.”

  “You bet. Be careful, man.”

  “Always.” He hung up, and Adam stood staring at the phone, digesting it all. Was it even possible Jane was—

  “Adam?” Jane stepped outside, a frown pulling at her brows. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He gave one more puzzled look to the phone, then stuffed it in his pocket.

  She came closer, searching his face. “You sure? You look like you just got bad news.”

  “I’m sure.” Which was a lie. He wasn’t sure of anything. Especially where she was concerned. “Except…”

  He touched her chin, lifting her face to him, scrutinizing it for any sign of someone who’d be involved in drug trafficking, FBI informing, or anything that wasn’t pure and good and simple.

  “Except what?”

  “It’s hell being with you all day after last night and not kissing you.”

  “You don’t want any of your friends and family to see you kiss me?”

  “I don’t care,” he said honestly. “I didn’t want you to feel awkward.”

  “You know what’s awkward?” She leaned into him. “How much I don’t care what they think of us kissing.” She nibbled his chin and got on her toes for more. “Also, the helmets are hanging, and you’re going to cry at how good they look.”

  He was going to cry, all right. If he got in any deeper with the wrong woman.

  But she slid her hands around his neck, pressed her body against his, and all he wanted was…her. Her body, her mouth, her heart, and her trust.

  He took the only one that was available at the moment and kissed the hell out of her, knowing full well at least half the men inside were up in the loft, looking down, laughing their asses off at how far gone he was.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The boathouse might just have been Jane Anne McAllen’s best design work. By Wednesday, all but the final punch list was done, thanks to teamwork that brought together family and friends who all clearly wanted to help Adam’s dream come true.

  The camaraderie had made the days fly by and the work seem light. And now, with a few days left before the big tour came in, Jane walked through the space with a sense of pride, connection, and affection.

  Afternoon sunshine poured in through the three banks of windows that lined the upper half of thirty-foot-high walls. Ford’s masterful “mountain stairs” were complete and perfect, thanks to a photographer friend of Brenda’s who affixed images of rocks and twigs on the risers to make each step look like a literal mountain path. The effect was absolutely stunning.

  Those imaginative stairs led to the dreamiest “campground” loft, ideas courtesy of Adam. He used tent canvas to make partial canopies over the beds, and Jane had used nylon camo-colored comforters that looked like sleeping bags, covering the iron rails she hated.

  Bailey found a great deal on potted trees she wanted for her restaurant, and Jane had placed them strategically between the bunks, finishing the sense that the campers had climbed the mountain for a night under the stars, which were actually twinkling white lights Wyatt had strung from the rafters.

  If the upstairs was a celebration of nature, then the downstairs was an homage to the town, its history and spirit. The largest wall was papered in maps and photos from every war and battle fought by a resident of Eagle’s Ridge. In the center, the guys had mounted the massive propeller for a breathtaking three-dimensional design element that pulled everything together.

  Photos of the four founders were hung between mugs and topped with that “fifty-mission crush” cap. Hildie had even found an old poster online with a World War II plane and the words Straighten up and fly right that she’d helped Jane turn into the top of a glass-covered coffee table.

  The “mess hall” was authentic, too, with help from Sam Tucker, who donated a lot of the pots, pans, and kitchen supplies from No Man’s Land.

  “Are you happy with your handiwork?” Adam came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his strong, warm, and now familiar chest.

  “Mmm.” She tipped her head back, offering him her neck to nibble, loving the feel of his lips on her skin. “Not my handiwork. Teamwork.”

  He lifted his head just before his lips touched down. “So true. Still, if left to my own devices, there’d be primer paint on the walls, shutters on the windows, the equivalent of basement stairs, and maybe—just maybe—a picture on the wall.”

  She laughed. “You’d have never hung a picture.”

  “You’re right, so credit where credit is due, Miss Designer.” He turned her around and tipped her face toward his. “All I do is inspire you every night.”

  “Is that what you call it?” Because Jane would call what they did every night hot, steamy, constant, satisfying sex.

  He gave a sly smile. “Yeah. You need a little inspiration right now?”

  As always, her stomach did a flip. “I always do, but I want to make a point. This wasn’t my handiwork alone. Your team was amazing.”

  “Hell yeah.” He nodded and looked around as if he could still see Wyatt up on an extension ladder or Ford nailing each newly sanded step into place. “Even Zane was invaluable.”

  “Of course, he’s your brother.”

  “But he doesn’t lose bets, Jane. Not often anyway, and certainly not to me.” He leaned closer and whispered, “What he doesn’t know is I always let him win when we were younger because I felt sorry for the sickly little guy. Then, when he outgrew his health issues and got to be the size of a house, I couldn’t beat him at anything.”

  She laughed, well aware of the closeness of the twins, despite their constant jabbing. “Your friends seem to want to beat him, too.”

  “Oh yeah. And this time, we have. When Miss Woody catches Zane in the act and he feels like an idiot, it’ll be sweet retribution for all the times he made us look like morons in front of her.”

  Still laughing, she tightened her grip on his shoulders and fell a little deeper into his eyes. He dipped his head down and kissed her. “We’re done for the day here. The last inspection is tomorrow, then we’ll get the signed CO, and I will officially be open for business.”

  “So now what do you want to do?”

  He angled his head and pulled her just a little closer. “I want to go camping.”

  She pointed to the loft. “You want to christen the campsite?”

  “No, I want to go camping. For real. On the ridge. Overnight. Under real stars, with fresh air, and a crackling fire and a sleeping bag shared with my girl.”

  Her heart wobbled at the words. “Your…girl.”

  “Woman?” he asked. “I always screw up the PC stuff.”

  “No, girl is fine. It’s just that I’ve never been…anyone’s girl.” Her voice hitched at the admission and the powerfully sad truth of it.

  “Never?” He frowned. “I find that hard to believe.”

  She shrugged. “It’s true.”

  “You’ve never had a boyfriend?”

  “Not one that would call me ‘his,’” she said. “You know.”

  “Actually, I don’t.” That low-grade sound of frustration she now knew so well darkened his voice. He wanted to know more, to know everything about her, but their relationship had slid hard and fast into a sexual one, and that gave her the best and most pleasurable means of intimacy without real intimacy.

  He thumbed her lower lip, studying her face. She was used to that scrutiny now, too. She’d never gone back to the motel to get her makeup and hadn’t even thought about making herself look her best. When Adam Tucker gazed at her, she felt nothing short of beautiful for the first time since…well, ever.

  “I told you I haven�
�t ever been in a serious enough relationship to be ‘claimed,’” she said.

  “And how’s it make you feel to be claimed?” His voice was husky, but that didn’t hide how much he wanted to know the answer. It was in his eyes, his touch, and the breath she knew he held.

  “It makes me feel…” She closed her eyes and dug for the truth. “Like I belong somewhere.”

  “Jane.” He inched her chin up to make her look at him. “Sleep with me on the mountain tonight. You’ll figure out where you belong.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she confessed.

  “Of what?”

  “Of—”

  “Holy mother of God, look at that, David! It’s the prop!”

  They whipped around to find Max and David poking their heads in and gazing around in awe.

  “I heard it was great in here,” David said, pushing farther into the building. “But I thought they said it was like New Zealand.”

  Max threw him a disgusted look. “Zane said it was like a museum,” he yelled in his friend’s face. “Wear your damn hearing aid, David.” Then, to Adam, he asked, “Can we come in?”

  “Of course.” He broke away from Jane, but kept hold of her hand, walking her closer to the men. “We were going to have a big unveiling for you founders.”

  Max snorted. “As if John Westbrook would deign to come to this side of the river.”

  “Grandpa,” Adam said. “Let it go. Bailey and Ryder are together now, and the feud has to come to an official end. You going to grumble all the way down the aisle if they get married?”

  His face softened. “Fine, fine.” His gaze shifted to the wall, and his whole expression brightened. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  “Come and see it.” Jane slipped her arm through his, then beckoned David to join her. “You two gave me the idea for this. A wall of fame if there ever was one.”

  They leaned on her only a little for support, both of the ninety-something-year-olds moving as if they were magnetically drawn to the wall.

  Max reached up and put a weathered hand on the edge of the propeller. “This thing saved my life a few times. Or one just like it.”

  “Look at this,” David said, pulling them closer. “Signed by Patton himself.”

  Both men stood a little straighter, at attention, as if the ghost of the legendary general stood before them. Chills danced up Jane’s arms, the moment taking her breath away.

  “Toughest battle of my life,” Max said. “The day Westbrook and I were the only two to come back after one mission.”

  “See?” Adam said, putting an arm around his grandfather. “It’s fate that your lives would be forever intertwined.”

  “Humph.” He followed David, and the two of them got close to another map.

  “I was there,” David said. “Got those planes flying with spit, Vaseline, and prayers.”

  “Great.” Max chuckled. “If I’d a known that, I wouldn’t have flown the damn things.”

  They laughed together, their balding heads bobbing as they shared the memory.

  “Come on,” Adam whispered, stepping back and bringing Jane with him to the door. “I have an idea.”

  “You’re going to leave them here alone?”

  “They won’t be alone for long.” With the two men deep in a loud and emotional discussion about a war fought and won generations ago, Adam slipped them both out the door. “I’m calling Bailey,” he said, pulling out his phone.

  “So she can come over?”

  He shook his head and put the phone to his ear. “Hey, Bailey, do me a favor. Actually, do yourself a favor.” He waited a beat. “Get that boyfriend of yours to drag his grandfather and Will Coleman over to the boathouse as soon as you can. Do not wait.”

  Another few seconds and she could hear Bailey’s rising argument through the phone. “I know you’re busy, but listen to me,” Adam said in a voice Jane imagined he used a lot when he took charge of his siblings. “You want a big happy wedding with both sides of the family having a lovefest?” He closed his eyes and listened.

  “You will, Bailey, and you know it’s just a matter of time till Ryder hits his knee. Get the old men over here and you’ll thank me later. I’m going camping.” Another pause. “I’m taking her with me.” And another pause. Jane had no idea what Bailey said, but Adam just smiled into the phone. “Working on it, Sis.”

  He hung up, slid the phone in his pocket, and put his arm around Jane. “By land or sea? Camper’s choice.”

  She opened her mouth to say the obvious, then closed it again. “I can’t swim, Adam.”

  He considered that. “Okay, we’ll go—”

  “But you would save me if you had to.”

  “Yeah, I would.” He put his arm around her and started walking. “But with me as the lead, we won’t have to.”

  “Still, I’d trust that you would.”

  From the look on his face, nothing she said could have made him happier.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Are you recovered yet?”

  Adam poked a stick into the fire pit and watched Jane wrap the blanket tighter around herself against the evening chill. “I didn’t hate the rapids part. The first one.”

  “Tapashaw? Yeah, that’s great for beginners.”

  She laughed and pushed back some hair that had dried during the hike. They hadn’t flipped, even though the river was a little wilder than he’d expected since the winds picked up.

  “And I totally get why you call that rock formation the Middle Finger. Might have given you one when we tipped over so much my face touched water.”

  He laughed. “We were fine. And you learned all the important tricks.”

  “Look for the V in the rapids, keep an oar in the water, lean into the current, and have fun. Did I forget one?”

  “Don’t panic.”

  She laughed. “The one I can’t follow.”

  “You did great.” When he finished stoking the fire, he picked up the bottle of wine and poured her another plastic glassful and took one for himself. Handing a glass to her, he said, “Not much white water in Miami, I guess.”

  “No, but people do take rowboats through Fairchild Garden.”

  “Sounds rough, Fairchild Garden.”

  She chuckled. “There’s no waterfall of death, that’s for sure.”

  “Nakanushee? It’s like a kiddie slide, Jane.”

  She rolled her eyes. “For you, maybe. I saw my whole life flash before my eyes.”

  “You did?” He put his glass on a smooth rock and pulled her closer, his gaze torn between the millions of stars that had finally made an appearance and the eyes that sparked as though they had stars of their own. “And what did you see?”

  “I saw…” She inched back. “That was a trick question.”

  “That was a direct question,” he corrected. “When you see your whole life, what are those seminal moments that stand out like snapshots in time?”

  Her only response was a soft, shuddering sigh.

  “Jane.” He pressed a kiss on her head. “I know every inch of you on the outside. I’ve kissed you, touched you, and made you lose control.”

  A soft, throaty whimper was her only answer, so he turned his face to her. “C’mon,” he coaxed. “Tell me something I don’t know. Tell me one memory. Your earliest memory. The very first thing you remember as a child.”

  She closed her eyes as if he’d struck her. “No.”

  “And we’re back to that.” He planted a kiss on her forehead, her nose, her mouth. “It’s not a quid pro quo, like you say, but I’ll tell you mine. My earliest memory is my mother crying in the middle of the night when Zane was having an asthma attack. I woke up and heard all the noise, his wheezing, her voice rising in terror, my dad coming in and calming them both down. Then she just sat on his bed and cried like it all overwhelmed her. I remember thinking she didn’t like being a mother.”

  “Then we have the same first memory,” she said softly.

  He eased bac
k, surprised that she was volunteering anything and even more surprised that she had the same memory. “Your first memory is your mother crying?”

  “No, my first memory is what showed me my mother didn’t like being a mother. But I was too young to realize that. Two, when it happened, actually.”

  Something in the way she said the words when it happened sent a cold chill down his spine. “When what happened?”

  She stared ahead, her eyes on the dark horizon, but her heart, he imagined, focused inward. “When a very nice man broke the window of a hundred-and-ten-degree car I was locked in, got me out, and called an ambulance. My first memory was the scream of the siren and my own shrieks calling for my mommy.”

  He tried to swallow. “Where was she?”

  “Inside a house in Hialeah. Buying drugs.”

  “Oh.” It was more of a huff of air than a legitimate response, because…oh. “Wow.”

  “Yeah, it was the beginning of a pretty…” She tried to cover the catch in her throat with a cough. “Rough life.”

  “What happened? Did they let her keep you? Did she go to jail? Who took care of you?”

  “They tried to let her keep me, because that’s how it works, and the law attempts to be fair and give mothers a chance to…to…” She smiled wistfully. “Straighten up and fly right.”

  “Did she?” He wanted her to say yes more than he wanted to take a breath. He couldn’t stand to think of this beautiful woman unloved and uncared for.

  “No.” She took a deep drink of her wine, nearly finishing it before handing him the glass to set on his flat rock. “She was under county supervision, of course, but there were men and more drugs and one weekend I spent home alone in an apartment when I was four.”

  “Good God,” he whispered.

  “He didn’t seem so good to me,” she murmured. “But there is a system in place to help kids like me.”

  “Did you go into a foster home? Up for adoption?” He was woefully uneducated on that system, but found himself hoping against hope the story got better.

  “You can’t put a child up for adoption whose mother won’t sign away parental rights.”