The Navy SEAL's E-Mail Order Bride (Heroes of Chance Creek)

by Seton, Cora

  Mason waited for Colt to speak up.

  “Damn it,” he grumbled. “I’m still not quitting the Air Force, but I’ll do my best. I won’t ruin my life to marry, though. If I don’t find her the normal way, too bad.”

  “You’ve got one year,” Mason said.

  “I know.” Colt’s irritation showed in his voice. “And I said I’ll try.”

  “If you fail, you’ll leave the rest of us up the creek without a paddle,” Austin said.

  Colt cut the line.

  * * *

  Regan,

  I haven’t jumped out of an airplane, rappelled from a cliff, swum through shark-infested waters with a knife between my teeth or blown anything up in over a month. I’m going out of my mind. Send me more questions.

  Mason

  Regan found the message in her e-mail inbox when she got back from shopping and she poured herself a glass of cold water before she answered it.

  Mason,

  The next question is about time. Specifically, time off. How much time off do you take and how do you like to spend it?

  I like to reserve one weekend day solely for fun, so I try really hard to cram errands, etc, on my lunch hours, at the end of my work days and Saturday mornings. Unfortunately, I can’t always get them done. If I do, I go for walks, or to museums or concerts or sightseeing for the remainder of the weekend. On Sunday nights, I prep for the week to come. How about you?

  By the way, aren’t you going to be bored on the ranch without airplanes, cliffs, sharks and explosives? Or are there parts of cattle ranching I’m not familiar with?

  Regan

  Mason’s answer came several hours later:

  Regan,

  I bet there are all kinds of parts to cattle ranching you’re not familiar with. We’ll remedy that pretty quick.

  Free time, huh? Not a concept the US military or cattle think highly of. There is always something to be done on a ranch, and cattle never take the day off, so when you’re ranching you have to duck out when you can. On the flip side, you’re outside every day and your chores vary enough so that you don’t really need time off in quite the same way you do from office work.

  I enjoy meals with the whole family around the table. I like driving to town and catching up with friends, whether I see them at the store or at the local watering hole. I like hiking around my property or in the mountains. I like trail riding, of course, camping, that kind of thing. I’ve never been much of a fisherman, but if you’re into it, I suppose I could learn. If you’d like to try something adventurous like skydiving, I’m your man.

  Seems to me we’d do a lot of those things together, but I figure you’ll want to throw some more girly activities in the mix once in a while. I can count off a few women about your age on neighboring ranches, and more holding jobs in town, and I think you’d find some friends among them. I don’t know what all they get up to in their spare time, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out.

  One advantage to sharing the ranch with my brothers is that it does allow us to leave once in a while. I can’t wait to take you to see Rome.

  Mason

  Regan liked the idea of going to Rome with Mason. He’d said he was a history buff. She’d have to drag him to Paris, too, since she’d spent all those years studying French.

  Mason,

  Rome sounds lovely, although anywhere in Europe would be wonderful. I meant to travel sooner, but got so caught up in work I never went.

  The ranching lifestyle definitely sounds different from what I’m used to. Don’t you ever sleep in?

  The next few questions get kind of grim, so let’s go through them fast.

  1. Addictions: Do you have any? Where do you draw the line with drinking?

  2. Abuse: Do you have anger management problems? Do you yell? Are you verbally abusive? Do you hit?

  3. Fidelity: How do you define cheating?

  Yikes. This is a heavy conversation to have with someone I’ve never met.

  Regan

  Mason Skyped a half hour before their appointed time. Regan was getting changed and almost missed the call. She slid across the apartment’s hardwood floor in her haste to reach her laptop in time.

  “Hello?” She said before she even clicked to receive the call. She tried again when the image of Mason became clear. “Hello? You’re early!”

  “Sorry. I don’t like these questions so much. Thought we should get them over with.”

  “Hang on.” She searched around the bed and stack of boxes that her laptop sat on until she found the piece of paper with the questions on it. When she sat down again, Mason was grinning ear to ear. “What?”

  “Nice cleavage.”

  Regan looked down, then back at him and realized her mistake. V-neck T-shirt, bending over the laptop to search behind it. “A gentleman would have looked away.”

  “I’m no gentleman,” Mason said. “So, let’s get this over with.” He propped his elbows on the desk. “One, I drink, but that’s it. Once in a while, I drink a lot. I might get loud, I dance better, I’m quicker to take offense, but I’m not a mean drunk, and I don’t try to drive myself home. I generally keep things under control. Two, I’ve never, ever hit a woman and I don’t ever intend to start. I don’t need to be verbally abusive because I’m damn clear on what I think about things and I’m not afraid to state my opinions. I will respect my wife and I expect that she’ll respect me. I expect we’ll fight once in a while, but I hope that we’ll let it out and get it over with so we can get on to the makeup sex. Three, cheating starts the minute you flirt with another man with the intention of following it up with something physical. I won’t stand for it. I won’t betray you either.” He shrugged and sat back. “This is who I am. No surprises. What about you?”

  Regan wasn’t sure why she felt nervous. After all, she’d led a fairly upright kind of life. “One, I usually drink in moderation. Glass or two of wine with dinner once or twice a week. I maybe go overboard a couple of times a year—New Year’s, that kind of thing. That’s when I answer Wife Wanted ads, which leads to Skyping with strangers. Two, I’ve never hit anyone since I slapped Rachel Winderton in sixth grade.”

  “What’d she do?” Mason cut in.

  “Told Dan Ellis I was on my period. Which I wasn’t, by the way. Three, my definition of fidelity matches yours with the addition that I think fooling around online counts, too.”

  “Fooling around?”

  “Flirting, sexting, phone sex, online sex…”

  “So you put just as much value on online communications as real time ones.”

  “Exactly.”

  He leaned forward. “So what we’re doing—you take that seriously?”

  Regan felt pinned by his piercing gaze. “Yes,” she admitted.

  “Regan, you know you’re on my list. You know I want to meet you, don’t you?” He looked so serious. There was something about a man in uniform that made you pay attention to him. Mason seemed so together, like he possessed a kind of masculine knowledge that she didn’t have access to, and that other men who hadn’t shared his experiences didn’t have access to either. Would that carry over into the civilian world, or was that simply an illusion the military cast over him? Either way, right now he was a formidable enemy. Every time they spoke she felt her resolve to be sensible slip away a little more.

  “My life is here in New York,” she said, thinking about her upcoming appointment and the half-completed website.

  Mason’s jaw tightened. “You’re not willing to take a chance on us?”

  “This is fun,” she said, her voice softening. “Talking to you, writing to you. But I don’t see how it can turn into something real. It’s not the same as meeting face to face, and even though we can talk about these questions, there are some we haven’t agreed on.”

  “Like what?”

  She’d grown so used to seeing Mason’s handsome face on her screen. Gotten so used to talking to this intelligent, interesting man. She was going to miss him when this inte
rlude was over.

  “Where to live, for example.”

  Mason nodded. “I did state clearly in the ad that I was looking for a wife to join me on my ranch,” he pointed out.

  “I answered that ad as a joke.”

  “Is it still a joke to you?”

  “No, of course not. I mean…” Regan frowned. “Mason, I like you.”

  “I like you, too. Don’t worry so much. This is all going to work out.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, I do.”

  Chapter Nine

  ‡

  “What do you mean I’m leaving in three hours?”

  “It’s all set. Pack your things, Lieutenant Commander, you’re going home two weeks early,” Sergeant Fitz said an hour later.

  “But…”

  “No buts. Get your gear together, report to the Commander for a final word and be ready to go at fourteen hundred hours.”

  “Got it.” Mason hurried to the room he shared with three other officers and packed as quickly as he could. There were a number of men he wanted to see before he went and he needed to send Regan a note, too, telling her he wouldn’t be available for their conversation tonight. He’d see her soon, though, he thought with a grin. A hell of a lot sooner than she knew. He’d decided not to go straight to Montana after his discharge, after all. Instead he’d take a small detour to New York. He wouldn’t tell Regan that, though. He had the feeling if she knew he was coming she’d tangle herself up in obligations rather than take a chance with him.

  All he wanted was one dinner—one face to face meeting in the flesh so they could see whether the chemistry they shared now through the Internet could match up with real life.

  He thought it could, but he also understood that Regan hadn’t ever planned to move to a small town in Montana. She never planned to live on a ranch. It could be a smelly, messy, ugly business. On the other hand, some days on the ranch were beautiful beyond measure. She had to have seen ugly things in New York, too. If she could keep an open mind she could come to love Crescent Hall the way he did.

  He hoped.

  Soon he intended to know.

  He felt like they’d covered more ground in a few days than most couples did in months. He also felt it threw into stark contrast their different opinions on some important matters.

  Don’t you ever sleep in? she’d asked. The answer was no. Between growing up on a ranch and spending well over a decade in the military, he’d gotten over that habit years ago. It raised an important issue, though. He had no doubt that Regan could work hard. She was obviously quite successful at her job, and it took guts and determination to start her own business. But she was also obviously used to creature comforts. Would she find the ranch too primitive or could she look at it as an adventure? When times got tough would she throw in with the rest of them, or would she hold back, thinking it wasn’t her responsibility?

  The only thing for it was to bring her to Crescent Hall and show her exactly what she’d be getting into. He made up his mind that was exactly what he’d do.

  Heading to the recreation hall to send a quick note to Regan, he was dismayed to find several techs crawling over the bank of computers.

  “What’s up?” he asked one of them.

  “We’re offline. We haven’t figured out yet if it’s an internal problem or something else. We’ll have everything up and running again as soon as we can.”

  Mason tapped his foot impatiently. He didn’t want to leave Regan hanging, but he didn’t have a lot of time.

  “Lieutenant Commander?” a young man said, appearing by his side. Mason struggled to remember his name. Failed.

  “Yes?”

  “The Commander is waiting to have a word with you, sir.”

  “All right.” A glance told Mason the techs could be busy here for hours. He’d just have to get in touch with Regan as soon as he could.

  * * *

  Regan lounged back against the pillows on her bed, waiting for the bubbling noise that would tell her Mason was ready to Skype. She was ready early this time in a fresh green blouse that set off her hair to perfection. She had one more question to talk to Mason about, and then they’d be through with them. She wondered if he was communicating with any of the other women on his list and if so, how their answers differed from hers.

  Had he Skyped with any of them? She didn’t think so, but she cautioned herself that she really knew nothing about this man. He could be lying through his teeth about all kinds of things. Although she didn’t think he was. He seemed overly honest, if anything.

  He was late today, though. That had never happened before. Mason struck her as a man who put an emphasis on being on time. She hoped nothing was wrong.

  Ten minutes later she began to worry in earnest. Had something happened in Afghanistan? She did a quick search online and brought up nothing. He could have simply lost his internet connection, or been called on a mission, although he’d said he was just waiting out the last days before they sent him home.

  Regan tried to stay calm. She dealt with other e-mails. Checked her various social media outlets. Even sent a quick note to a friend she hadn’t seen in a while. Finally she e-mailed Mason.

  Mason,

  You’re late. Is something up? Hope all is okay.

  Regan

  A half-hour passed. Then an hour. She found a home makeover show to watch on television. Tried a paperback novel.

  By dinner-time she thought she’d lose her mind.

  What if it wasn’t his internet connection, or that he’d gotten called out on a mission? What if he’d just decided he’d had enough of their little game? She’d told him time and time again she wasn’t interested in being his wife, and he’d told her that’s what he was looking for.

  Maybe he had sent those questions to the other women, and maybe one of them had answered them in a way that intrigued him more than she did. Maybe he was too busy Skyping with her to even remember Regan.

  She’d been so sure their connection was real. If she was truthful, she’d hoped it would spill over into their offline lives. She’d wanted to meet him.

  She’d wanted to fall in love with him.

  Hell, she already had.

  Chapter Ten

  ‡

  Mason finally was able to text Regan when he landed in Munich.

  Honey, something’s come up. Can’t spill the details. Will be out of touch for a couple of weeks.

  Regan texted back swiftly.

  Thank God you’re safe. I was so worried!

  Mason winced, knowing if the tables were turned he’d have gone out of his mind.

  I’ll make it up to you, I swear. Hate that I worried you—such is military life. I’ll be thinking of you.

  He hesitated, wanting to text something more—wanting to text, I love you, but knowing it was much too soon for that. Instead he settled for telling her he’d miss her—a lot. Then he signed off.

  In the end, it was nearly three weeks before he could fly to New York City. Mandatory debriefing came first on his way home. Back on base in Virginia there were all the normal jobs to do before he could muster out for the last time. In some ways, the last few weeks had been the hardest of his military career. Knowing it was all ending—that his whole identity was about to change—and having too much time to think about it was a recipe for grim thoughts and self-doubt.

  No longer would he be a Navy SEAL. No one could take his experiences away from him, but he wouldn’t be part of that elite group anymore—not as an active member, anyway.

  He knew some of his exploits would be passed down from SEAL to SEAL in stories. Maybe his nickname would be remembered. He could be proud of the service he’d rendered to his country—proud of the man he’d become while rendering it.

  But now he’d just be plain old Mason Hall again. Not Lieutenant Commander. Not Straightshot. Just another cowboy trying to scratch a living off the herds that roamed the Montana ranchland. Who would look to him for orders? Who would car
e what he did or said?

  He knew that Regan was probably wondering at the length of his silence, but he also knew he hadn’t been fit to talk to her. Not while he was making the transition home. The smart thing for him to do would be to slip away for another six months and get his head on straight. Heloise’s demands didn’t leave him that kind of time, though, and he had to admit he was grateful for that. He ached to talk to Regan again. He missed their funny, sexy e-mails and seeing her beautiful smile when they Skyped. He missed her voice on the phone and the way she laughed. He wanted to see her. To touch her.

  To be with her.

  As soon as he exited the plane at JFK, he turned on his phone and dialed her number. The line rang and rang until her voicemail picked up. “You’ve reached Regan Anderson. Leave your message at the beep.”

  “Regan?” he said. “It’s me, Mason. Sorry about the disappearing act. It couldn’t be helped. I need to talk to you. I’ll try again in a few hours. Hope you’re okay.”

  He cut the call and found a car rental agency. He didn’t relish the idea of navigating through New York City, but once he’d found Regan and convinced both of them they were right for each other, he intended to bundle her into the rental car and head right back to the airport with her. He had a single goal on this mission: bring Regan home.

  Two hours later, he pulled up in front of a nondescript apartment building and confirmed with a sheet of paper that this was the correct address. It took him fifteen more minutes to actually find a parking spot. Then he retraced his steps and called her from outside the front door.

  “Mason?” she said when she picked up.

  “It’s me, honey. You okay?”

  “Glad to hear your voice. I was worried.” Her voice sounded strained. Well, if she’d gone missing for three weeks, he’d have felt strained, too.

  “Something unavoidable came up. Sorry about that.”

  “What was it? Or is that classified?”

  “No, it isn’t classified,” Mason said, gazing up at the brick façade of the building. Regan was up there somewhere, and now that the moment had come to meet her, he was as jittery as a new recruit on his first jump. “I was in transit,” he said.