Of course, there were other servicewomen, single servicewomen, stationed at Fort Hood who were in units and positions that were completely unrelated to his, but there were roadblocks there as well. Dating between an enlisted soldier and an officer was forbidden. Period. That knocked a couple of thousand women at Fort Hood right out of the dating pool. Since Thane was a commissioned officer, he could only date another commissioned officer who was not in his unit, but he rarely had a chance to meet female officers who worked in different branches of the army—that whole working thirty-six hours every third day had a lot to do with that. The police worked Saturdays and Sundays. And nights. And holidays.
Thane’s brother, still living back home in South Carolina, was head over heels for a woman he’d met at work, one of his clients. But Thane’s only “clients” were women who called 911 for help. Victims. Or they were women on the other side of that coin—not victims, but perpetrators. Two of the soldiers in his platoon had served a warrant on a woman suspected of check forgery today. Or was that yesterday? The days were all becoming one blur.
The odds of him meeting a dateable woman at work were pretty much zero out of a million. Thane would’ve shaken his head in disgust, but that would’ve taken too much energy. One foot in front of the other, trudging past the apartment complex’s swimming pool, that was all he had the energy for.
Building Six’s mailboxes were grouped together in the stairwell. So were several of his male neighbors, all checking their mail at the same time, all in the same uniform Thane wore. At least one person in every apartment here was in the service. Everyone left Fort Hood after the American flag had been lowered for the day and everyone arrived home around the same time, an army rush hour. Everyone checked their mail before disappearing behind their apartment doors. They were all living off post in a civilian apartment complex, but the military influence of Fort Hood was impossible to escape in the surrounding town of Killeen.
As Thane used a key to open his little cubby full of two days’ worth of junk mail, he exchanged greetings with the other men. To be more accurate, Thane exchanged silent lifts of the chin, the same acknowledgment he’d been exchanging with guys since the hallowed halls of high school. That had been eight years ago, but still, that was the level of closeness the average guy reached with the average guy. A lift of the chin. A comment on a sports team, perhaps, during the NFL playoffs or Game Five of the World Series. Maybe, if he saw someone at the mailboxes whom he hadn’t seen in a while, they might acknowledge each other with a lift of the chin and actually speak. “You back from deployment?”
The answer was usually a shrug and a yeah, to which the answer was a nod and a yeah, thought so, hadn’t seen you around in a while, followed by each guy retreating to his apartment, shutting a door to seal himself off from the hundreds of others in the complex, hundreds of people roughly Thane’s age and profession, all living in the same place.
He had no one to talk to.
Thane started up the concrete stairs to his apartment, each boot landing as heavily as if it were made of concrete, too.
He lived on the third floor, a decision he regretted on evenings like this one. Thane hit the second-story landing. One more flight, and he could fall in bed. As he rounded the iron banister, an apartment door opened. A woman his age appeared in the door, her smile directed down the stairs he’d just come up. Another man in uniform was coming up them now, a man who wouldn’t be sleeping alone.
“Hi, baby,” the man said.
“You’re home early,” the woman said, sounding like that was a wonderful gift for her. “How was your day?”
“You won’t believe this, but the commander decided—” The door closed.
Thane slogged his way up to his floor.
Bed. All he wanted was his own bed, yet now he couldn’t help but think it would be nice not to hit the sheets alone. He had an instant mental image of a woman in bed with him. He couldn’t see her face, not with her head nestled into his shoulder, but he could imagine warm skin and a happy, interested voice, asking How was your day? They’d talk, two heads on one pillow.
Pitiful. What kind of fantasy was that for a twenty-six-year-old man to have? He was heading to bed without a woman, but it wasn’t sex he was lonely for. Not much, anyway. He wanted someone to talk to, someone waiting to talk to him, someone who cared what he thought after days full of people who broke laws, people who were hurt, people who were angry.
Better yet, he wanted someone to share a laugh with.
He scrubbed a hand over the razor stubble that he’d be shaving in less than twelve hours to go back to work. Yeah, he needed a laugh. There was nothing to laugh at around here.
His phone buzzed in his pocket—two shorts and a long, which meant he had a message waiting in his favorite app. The message had to be from his digital pen pal. The app had paired him up months ago with someone going by BallerinaBaby. He didn’t know anything about her, not even her real name, and yet, she was someone with whom he did more than nod, someone to whom he said something meaningful once in a while. He could put his thoughts into words, written words in blue on a white screen. He got words back from her, hot pink and unpredictable, making him feel more connected to the woman behind them than he felt to anyone else around here.
Thane took the last few stairs two at a time. He wanted to get home. He had twelve hours ahead to sleep—but not alone. There was someone waiting to talk to him after all.
He unlocked the door and walked into his apartment, tossing his patrol cap onto the coffee table with one hand as he jerked down the zipper of his uniform jacket with the other. He tossed that over a chair, impatient to pull out his phone from his pocket the moment his hand was free. A real friend, real feelings, conversation, communion—
Today, I was desperate for tater tots.
He stared at the sentence for a long moment. What the hell…?
And then, all of a sudden, life wasn’t so heavy. He didn’t have to take himself so seriously. Thane read the hot pink silliness, and he started to laugh.
The rest of his clothes came off easily. Off with the tan T-shirt that clung after a day of Texas heat. Thane had to sit to unlace the combat boots, but he typed a quick line to let Ballerina know he was online. You crack me up.
And thank God for that.
He brushed his teeth. He pulled back the sheets and fell into bed, phone in one hand. He bunched his pillow up under his neck, and he realized he was smiling at his phone fondly as he typed, I’d miss you. It was crazy, but it was true.
The little cursor on his phone screen blinked. He waited, eyes drifting idly over the blue and pink words they’d already exchanged. You killed them? he’d written, followed by words like murder. Jail.
He was going to scare her away. She’d think he was a freak the way his mind went immediately to crime and punishment. Did normal guys—civilian guys—zing their conversations right to felony death?
She must think he was a civilian. His screen name was Different Drummer, after all, nothing that implied he was either military or in law enforcement. They weren’t supposed to reveal what Ballerina called their “real, boring surface facts,” things like name, address, job. During one of those marathon chat sessions where they’d spilled their guts out, they’d agreed that anonymity was part of the reason they could write to each other so freely.
He hoped the way he used so many law enforcement references didn’t give away his real profession. It wasn’t like he was dropping clues subconsciously. Really.
He read her words. She made him smile with ketchup, mustard and salt. He wondered if she’d kept a straight face when she wrote that, or had she giggled at her own silliness? Did she have a shy smile or a wide-open laugh?
Then she told him she had to go. He had to act like that was perfectly okay. They’d talk some other time. But before closing the app he remembered the couple downstairs—Hi, baby, how was your day?
Ballerina Baby was the woman who’d greeted him after a long day of wo
rk.
Looking forward to it, Baby.
A subconscious slip? He’d never called Ballerina Baby just Baby before.
She didn’t reply. All his exhaustion returned with a vengeance. If Ballerina couldn’t talk, what good would it do to go out to exchange nods and grunts with everyone else?
He tossed his phone onto his nightstand and rolled onto his side, ready for the sleep that would overtake him in moments. But just before it did, he thought what he could never type: You mean more to me than you should, Baby.
Don’t miss
THE LIEUTENANT’S ONLINE LOVE by Caro Carson,
available May 2018 wherever
Harlequin® Special Edition books and ebooks are sold.
www.Harlequin.com
Copyright ©2018 by Caroline Phipps
If you loved this story by USA Today bestselling author
CARO CARSON
be sure to check out her
Texas Rescue mini-series for stories about
life, love, family and finding your happily-ever-after!
HOW TO TRAIN A COWBOY
A COWBOY’S WISH UPON A STAR
HER TEXAS RESCUE DOCTOR
FOLLOWING DOCTOR’S ORDERS
A TEXAS RESCUE CHRISTMAS
NOT JUST A COWBOY
Don’t miss her latest novel about finding love where you least expect it!
THE LIEUTENANTS’ ONLINE LOVE
available April 2018 wherever
Harlequin® Special Edition books and ebooks are sold.
ISBN-13: 9781488099359
Lost in Cottonwood Canyon
First published as Nothing to Lose by Silhouette Intimate Moments in 2004
This edition published in 2017
Copyright © 2004 by RaeAnne Thayne.
How to Train a Cowboy
Copyright © 2016 by Caroline Phipps.
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor Toronto, ON M5H 4E3 Canada.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
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Lessons in Lassoing
Though marine hero Benjamin Graham doesn’t know the first thing about ranching, his new job is the lifeline he desperately needs. Without the help of feisty cowgirl Emily Davis, though, he’s lost—in more ways than one. But as their attraction turns combustible, the hardened battle vet turns away from the gorgeous college coed. She might know every inch of her family’s homestead, but Graham doesn’t want her to know his pain.
Even if the world is Emily’s oyster, all she’s ever wanted is the family ranch. And though rugged new ranch hand Graham seems like an unlikely trainee, he is taking her dreams of running the ranch more seriously than anyone else. As they grow closer during hot days—and nights—working the range, Emily starts to think that maybe the ranch is only a piece of her dream…
He held her just right, his arms across hers, no accidental brush against her breasts, no awkwardness in trying to avoid touching certain parts of her, either. He’d just come up behind her and enclosed her in his arms, sheltering her from the cold just as he’d sheltered her from the bar fight. It was heaven to be with a man who knew what he was doing.
Being the helpless one was every bit as addictive as she’d been afraid it would be.
She was strong and strong-willed—stubborn, her mother called it—and she needed to continue being both if she ever hoped to prove to her family that she belonged in the ranching business.
But for tonight…
Right this moment…
She let herself relax in Graham’s arms. She was tired of proving herself to her family. She was tired of playing the social games at college. For just one night, she wanted to be wanted without having to work for it.
Nothing would change if she gave herself one night with a man who knew what he was doing.
* * *
TEXAS RESCUE:
Rescuing hearts…one Texan at a time!
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoy reading every page of the book in your hands. I’ve been asked if I enjoy reading my own books. It’s tricky as an author, because I’ll see sentences I wish I could tweak, but it’s like baking a cake. Even when you’re the one who did the work, the finished cake still tastes delicious!
But…
Is it enjoyable while I’m writing? It’s magic when I’m so immersed in the book world, I lose track of time. But sometimes, I stare at the computer, convinced I’ve got no idea what I’m doing. I take heart from knowing I’m not the only one, though. We all have moments where we feel like impostors, don’t we?
The hero of this book, former marine officer Benjamin Graham, feels disconnected from life. He isn’t a failure in the civilian world, but he still feels like that impostor. He’s given up and settles for a ranch hand’s meager pay. The problem is, he really is an impostor when it comes to being a cowboy!
But…
Sometimes when we think we don’t know what we’re doing, we’re doing the right thing, after all. For Graham, finding the only ranch hand who has the patience to teach him turns out to be the right thing…because that rancher is the woman who becomes the love of his life.
I wish us all many happy days of reading, of working and of loving.
Cheers,
Caro Carson
PS: I’d love to hear from you on Facebook or at www.carocarson.com.
How to Train a Cowboy
Caro Carson
Despite a no-nonsense background as a West Point graduate, army officer and Fortune 100 sales executive, Caro Carson has always treasured the happily-ever-after of a good romance novel. As a RITA® Award–winning Harlequin author, Caro is delighted to be living her own happily-ever-after with her husband and two children in Florida, a location which has saved the coaster-loving theme-park fanatic a fortune on plane tickets.
Books by Caro Carson
Harlequin Special Edition
Texas Rescue
A Cowboy’s Wish Upon a Star
Her Texas Rescue Doctor
Following Doctor’s Orders
A Texas Rescue Christmas
Not Just a Cowboy
Montana Mavericks:
What Happened at the Wedding?
The Maverick’s Holiday Masquerade
The Doctors MacDowell
The Bachelor Doctor’s Bride
The Doctor’s Former Fiancée
Doctor, Soldier, Daddy
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
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This book is dedicated to
my fellow Harlequin Special Edition authors.
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Thank you for being the colleagues who understand me, the friends I love to spend time with and the authors who write the stories I love to read.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Acknowledgments
Excerpt from The Rancher’s Unexpected Family by Helen Lacey
Chapter One
January 2015
He didn’t belong here, either.
Graham pushed his empty beer glass toward the bartender and abandoned his bar stool. He hadn’t belonged anywhere in a good, long while. He should have known a honky-tonk bar in Texas would be no different.
He’d been seduced by the appearance of this bar, he supposed. Something about the way it stood alone on the side of a rural road had caught his eye. The cinder block building was just old enough to prove the bar knew what it took to satisfy its customers, new enough to flaunt a pre-fab extension, all wood and aluminum. If it hadn’t been the look of the building, then Graham would have stopped because the size of the dirt parking lot meant that the place must see enough business to keep its kegs fresh, even if the parking lot and the bar inside had been nearly empty as twilight set in. He hadn’t expected such a fresh-faced crowd to start filling up the place so quickly after dark, though.
He should have. It was only Thursday, but the University of Texas in Austin was an hour east of here, and the massive army base, Fort Hood, an hour north. The average age inside the bar couldn’t be more than twenty-one, even though it wasn’t yet the weekend. Students and soldiers laughed and drank and tried to shout over a band that played Southern rock far too loudly for the low-ceilinged space.
Lost in Cottonwood Canyon & How to Train a Cowboy--Lost in Cottonwood Canyon Page 23