A Marine for His Mom

by Christy Jeffries

  His cookie-queen angel? So he did know who she was. She really needed to put a stop to this now.

  “You smell like your cookies. Do you taste like them?” He pulled her closer. While one hand continued to light her face and lips on fire, his other hand, which held something that appeared to be black steel, reached for her waist.

  He lowered his mouth and trailed kisses along her neck. She was going to stop him—really, she was—but when she felt what appeared to be a semiautomatic pistol press against her waist, she finally came to her senses and jerked back. “Wait! Is that a gun?”

  “Hmmm?”

  Maxine pulled back even more and glanced down at the holstered Glock he held in his hand. The same hand that was pulling her body in closer.

  “Why in the world would you come to the door with a gun?”

  He smiled. “I’m in a strange house. In a strange city. Never know when a sexy little burglar is going to come by and try to steal my senses.”

  “Are you drunk?” she asked. There was no way this could be the same man who had been so cold and reserved less than two hours ago.

  “Nope. Not if you count one glass of Scotch. But if you add the pain meds... I’m not sure how that works. All I know is that I’m pretty damn relaxed. You want a drink, my cookie angel? I like it when you’re not so uptight.”

  This was crazy. She had to get out of here. “Listen, Cooper. I think you’re half-asleep. You need to put the gun down and go back to bed. Hopefully, you won’t remember any of this.” Even though she would remember every detail. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

  “Okay,” he slurred, as she backed away. “Sweet dreams, angel.”

  Before she lost herself completely, Maxine turned and hurried back to her car. She started the engine and zoomed down the dirt path. When she made it to the main highway, she pulled over and took three deep breaths, just like they’d been taught in Pilates class. Then she took three more.

  To hell with Pilates. She needed a glass of wine.

  Maxine put her head back against the leather seat and closed her eyes, trying to get her racing heart under control. What had happened back there? She’d completely fallen apart. Panicked.

  It wasn’t the fact that he had a gun. He was military—and a cop sleeping in a strange place. She should’ve expected that. Besides, it wasn’t as if he’d pulled it on her.

  Nor was she upset by the fact that he was so spaced out on painkillers he probably wouldn’t remember how she’d softened like warm dough in his hands. Although she still hated the way her body had responded to him.

  No, she was upset because even in his medicated state, he’d known exactly who she was—and he’d wanted her.

  What made matters even worse was that she’d wanted him, too.

  And that reaction upset her most of all.

  * * *

  Who in the hell had trashed his yard?

  Cooper first suspected some teenagers had thrown an epic party outside the cabin while he’d been passed out cold inside. A more likely possibility was that an animal—or several—had gotten into a neighbor’s trash can and dragged the remains of their picnic across his driveway. Either way, he resolved to cut back on the painkillers—and the Scotch—and to be more on guard when he slept.

  Man, he’d had some crazy-ass dreams. All night long, he’d dreamed of Maxine smiling at him. Even when he woke up this morning, he could still smell her vanilla scent and feel the warmth of her smile under his left thumb. Like he said, crazy.

  After picking up the empty boxes and food wrappers, he decided that if he didn’t want tuna again for breakfast, he needed to go into town. It only took three tries to get the engine in the Jeep to turn over, but once it started, the yellow vehicle navigated the mountain roads pretty well. Minutes later, he turned onto Snowflake Boulevard, where the big clock in the center of town read twenty minutes after nine.

  He spotted the Sugar Falls Cookie Company and debated parking in front to get some baked goods for breakfast and to check out the enemy camp. But he didn’t want to see Maxine in person. It was bad enough he had to see her in his dreams. Instead, he drove another block before parallel parking in front of the Cowgirl Up Café.

  The building, which was painted bright purple, looked more like a rodeo bar than a diner. But, when he slammed the car door closed, his mouth watered at the aroma of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee wafting out to the street.

  At least the air used to smell like bacon. But when he drew closer... What in the world was that stench?

  As he walked toward the entrance, where two saddled horses had been tied to a hitching post out front, he spotted a steaming pile of fresh excrement behind a white mare.

  Wait. Was he in Idaho or in Texas? And what century was this?

  An older man in faded overalls lumbered out of the Cowgirl Up, put a weathered Boise State cap onto his graying head, gave one of the horses a pat on the nose and then got into his once-blue GMC pickup.

  Cooper shook his head. Pulling open the café doors, which had been painted to look like the slatted wood entrance to a saloon, he was immediately assaulted with Western motif everywhere the eye could see. Framed pictures of horses adorned the purple-and-pink-striped walls. Miniature cowboy boots—each with a cactus plant growing out of its opening—sat on every table. Behind the counter seating area, someone had tacked up several ropes and looped them together to spell out “Cowgirl Up.”

  Stirrups and spurs and bridles and other odds and ends one might find in a tack room had been covered in glitter paint and sequins, then nailed to the walls and ceilings.

  It looked like a barrel racing rodeo queen had exploded in here. But most of the cowhide-printed booths and wooden chairs and tables were full, so the food must be good.

  An older woman with a lime-green apron tied around her skintight Wrangler jeans nodded her bleached-blond head toward the counter seating. “Have a seat anywhere you want, darlin’. We’ll be with you in a hot Tennessee minute.”

  Cooper had no idea how long a hot Tennessee minute was, but he took the chair along the corner of the counter so he could see everyone who walked in or out.

  Some habits were hard to break.

  A petite brunette sitting alone at a table directly across from him must’ve had the same idea because she kept staring at the door. She was pretty in an athletic sort of way, but she sure was skittish. Each time a waitress walked behind her, she started.

  He couldn’t help watching her for a while, noting that she didn’t make eye contact with anyone in the restaurant. Not that Cooper was interested or even attracted to that type, but she looked like a woman with a secret.

  And he always liked to find out people’s secrets.

  The waitress, who could easily pass for Dolly Parton’s older, bustier sister, held a steaming pot in front of Cooper’s nose. “Can I get you started with some coffee?”

  “I’d love some.” He turned over his mug. “Thanks.”

  She put the pot back on the burner behind the counter, then handed him a menu.

  Whoa. Those were the longest fingernails he’d ever seen. And they fit right in with the rest of the restaurant’s flashy decor.

  She placed her hands on her hips, and Cooper tried not to stare at the long magenta-painted tips. Was that a rhinestone on her thumbnail?

  “You new in town, or just visiting?”

  “Uh, just visiting, ma’am.”

  “You staying with friends, then?”

  Cooper almost choked on his hot coffee. He was used to being the interrogator, not the other way around, and this dolled up grandma was proving to be quite the small town busybody. “Why would you think I was staying with friends?”

  “’Cause if you were staying at Betty Lou’s B and B, you wouldn’t be eating here right now on account that Betty Lou puts
on a good morning spread for her customers. And most of the guests up at the lodge don’t come into town for breakfast. So, darlin’, seeing as there ain’t many other places to stay in Sugar Falls, you must be visiting a friend.”

  What the woman lacked in fashion sense, she made up for in detective skills.

  Cooper avoided responding by asking a question of his own—another habit that was hard to break. “How are the biscuits and gravy, ma’am?”

  “Hey, now, none of that ma’am business in here.” She smiled and pulled out her order pad. “Everyone calls me Freckles. I own the Cowgirl Up and, at the risk of sounding completely biased, the biscuits and gravy are to die for. You want hash browns or home fries with that?”

  “Whatever you recommend, Ms. Freckles, and can I get two eggs over easy and a large orange juice with that?”

  “Ms. Freckles, huh?” The waitress chuckled and put her pen behind her ear. “I like good manners and big appetites on our visitors. Hope you plan to stick around for a while.”

  She turned to put his order in before Cooper could tell her that he didn’t plan to stay long at all. Hell, he didn’t know what he planned.

  He took another sip of coffee as he surveyed the room. Everyone except the wary brunette looked as if they’d jumped right out of a brochure advertising quaint small towns in America. Not that Cooper had actually spent time in any Main Street USA–type places.

  A couple of older men wearing chaps and boots stood up. When their chairs scraped the floor, the skittish woman nearly jumped out of her seat. Yep, there was definitely some type of story going on there.

  The taller cowboy placed a tattered and dusty Stetson on his head. “See ya tomorrow, Freckles.”

  “Wait, Scooter.” The café owner rushed over and handed the customer a napkin wrapped bundle. “I packed up some apple slices for you and Jonesy to give Klondike and Blossom.”

  Cooper assumed that Klondike and Blossom were the two horses outside, but with townspeople named Freckles and Jonesy and Scooter, who knew?

  The burly old cowboys thanked the owner and held open the door just as a bundle of blond curls rushed in. Both men stopped in their tracks and dipped their hats.

  “Morning, Maxine,” the shorter one said.

  A warm sensation spread through Cooper’s stomach that had nothing to do with the coffee he’d just swallowed and everything to do with the fact that Hunter’s mother had just entered the Cowgirl Up Café, looking as sexy as hell in a damp long-sleeved Boise State T-shirt and a short pair of bright blue running shorts. Her legs were just as long, just as tanned and just as tempting as they’d been yesterday. And her top-of-the-line athletic shoes were bright orange and well-worn, indicating she was a legitimate runner.

  Just like him.

  Dammit. He didn’t want to think that he and the beautiful mom had anything in common. It was better they kept their distance. But he couldn’t deny that seeing her familiar face in an over-sequin-decorated café filled with nosy strangers was somewhat of a relief.

  Maxine waved hello to several of the customers and said good morning to Freckles before sitting next to the apprehensive brunette and pulling the nervous woman in close for what appeared to be a reassuring hug.

  She hadn’t noticed him yet, which was just as well. He’d have to say something to her, and he wasn’t sure what. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since she and Hunter dropped him off at the cabin last night, which was more than a bit annoying, especially since she’d made it clear he was going to be a pain in her backside—pretty as it was.

  Was he going to have to see her every time he came into town? He’d wait until she was done talking to her nervous friend and... What? He wasn’t sure what to say, since talking to her was like talking to a prickly cactus.

  But the first words she said to her friend pulled him right out of his line of thought.

  “So, did the parole board tell you what your options were?”

  Chapter Five

  “Shh, not so loud.” Mia glanced to the left and right, even though Maxine doubted any of the locals were paying a lick of attention to them, then spoke quietly and quickly. “They said that if I want to make sure Nick stays in prison, then I need to come testify in person at the parole hearing. But there’s no way I want him to see me. I can’t even be in the same room with that asshole. He destroyed my career. He destroyed my life.”

  Maxine understood her friend and former cheerleading teammate’s fear of the man who’d stalked her, and then used a baseball bat to crush both her knee and her dance career. Mia didn’t want to have to go through any sort of hearing again, even if there were a thousand prison guards in the room and the psycho was in full handcuffs and restraints. “Can’t you just send a letter? Or can someone go on your behalf?”

  “They said I could write them or send someone else, but it won’t have the full weight of me giving my own testimony. Hold on—not to change the subject, because I know I can be a little paranoid, but who is that guy over there who keeps staring this way? Do you think Nick sent him to find out where I lived?”

  “What guy?” Maxine turned and saw Cooper sitting at the U-shaped counter, digging into a heaping plate of biscuits while watching them with those cold and appraising green eyes. “Crap.”

  She couldn’t believe he was here. She’d hoped to have more time to sort out whatever she was feeling toward him. Instead, her feet itched to run right back out the door.

  “Crap, what?” Mia tried to look over Maxine’s shoulder.

  “Nick didn’t send that guy. That’s Hunter’s pen pal. You know, Gunny Heartthrob?” Maxine kicked herself for the continued use of that nickname.

  “Oh.” Realization chased the confusion from Mia’s expression. “Oh, oh, oh.”

  Her best friend, who just a few seconds ago had thought every man in the world was out to get her, was now smiling and standing up as if she were going to dance right on over to Cooper and hug him like a long-lost friend.

  And since Maxine had made eye contact with him, it wasn’t as if she could be totally rude and ignore the guy.

  By the time she followed her friend, Mia was already shaking Cooper’s hand. “Hi, I’m Hunter’s Aunt Mia.”

  “Ah, the dance teacher. Hunter mentioned you.” Cooper put down his fork and reached out his hand to shake Mia’s. Then he turned his questioning eyes to Maxine.

  “Hi again.” Maxine tried to resist the urge to pull her hair loose and run her fingers through it so it didn’t look like such a sweaty mess.

  “I thought you looked familiar,” Mia continued, “but I didn’t know where I recognized you from. But now I realize that it was from all those pictures Maxine showed us when she found them on Hunter’s computer—”

  Maxine gave her friend a nudge with her elbow, hoping she’d shut up.

  “What?” Mia turned to Maxine, letting far more out of the bag than if she’d kept talking. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Maxine tried to give her friend the international look for shut the heck up, but she wasn’t taking the hint.

  Mia turned back to the now-grinning man. “Anyway, Hunter’s been telling us all about you and your surgery. How do you like Sugar Falls?”

  Sweet mercy, he looked good when he wasn’t glaring at her. She’d noticed his smile several times yesterday on their drive home from the hospital. But it had only been directed at Hunter. That was, until last night, when she’d gone back to the cabin and he’d turned it on her. Now he’d aimed it at Mia, and Maxine wasn’t sure she liked it.

  “I’m still trying to figure that out,” he replied. “The Gregson cabin is pretty quiet and it’s a lot less rustic than I was expecting. This is my first venture into town. It’s definitely different from anything I’m used to.”

  What was he trying to say? That their town was Podunk?
That it didn’t live up to his big-city standards? Well, maybe he should pack up his cute marine butt and leave.

  “I know,” Mia said, turning traitor. “When I got here from Miami, it was like night and day for me. At least I’d lived in Boise while we were in college. But small town life grows on you, and now I just love it here. Everyone looks out for each other and strangers stick out like sore thumbs.”

  “Yeah, well this sore thumb is definitely feeling out of place.” This time, he included Maxine in his shy smile, and her heart rate slipped into overdrive, beating faster than it had an hour ago when she was sprinting back into town after getting Mia’s 9-1-1 text.

  “You’ll get used to it. Have Max introduce you around town. Then she can take you up to the waterfalls and show you where all the local hot spots are.”

  “Whoa, Mia. Pump your brakes.” When did it become Maxine’s responsibility to introduce the guy to everyone and play tour guide? “Cooper is just here to recover from his surgery. I’m sure he doesn’t want us bothering him with all the touristy things.”

  And Gunny Heartthrob’s glare was back. What’d she say? She was sure he would have wanted to say the same thing himself.

  At that, Mia finally seemed to catch the vibe between the two of them and said, “Um, it was nice meeting you, but I have that mommy-and-me ballet class starting in a few minutes, so I gotta...”

  Her friend walked out of the café without finishing her goodbye, but apparently Cooper hadn’t noticed because he didn’t take his eyes off Maxine.

  “Hey there, Max,” Freckles called out from where they’d been previously sitting before Mia did her Bambi in the headlights impersonation and ran out. “If you and Mia don’t need this table anymore, can the boys from the Kiwanis Club grab it for their meeting? I’ll bring your farmer’s scramble over to that side of the counter and you can eat with your friend.”

  All the other diners swiveled their heads toward them, and Maxine didn’t know how to get out of making a scene. She slowly sank into the counter seat next to the man and bit her tongue to keep from apologizing for the obvious awkwardness.