by Kaylea Cross
“I’m Pat,” the first one said. “And you are…?”
“Braxton,” he said, stepping forward to take the basket from her. What was going on right now? “Uh, thank you. This is really nice of you.”
Pat’s smile gleamed in the glow of the porch light. “It’s no trouble. We just wanted to introduce ourselves and welcome you to the neighborhood. Well.” She waved a hand. “It’s late. You enjoy that, and feel free to drop by for coffee anytime while you’re here. We’re just across the road, you can’t miss us.”
Umm… “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She glanced from him to Mason. “Well, goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” he and Mason chorused.
Mason shut the door, snickering under his breath. “Knew they wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation long.”
“What just happened?” Whatever was in the basket smelled awesome, though.
“Our adorable neighbors. Avery mentioned to them that I had a buddy coming down to stay with us for the week. Guess they wanted to check you out in person.”
“It’s almost midnight.”
“Pat was probably waiting by the front windows all night, watching for my Jeep. Anyway, her sister is an awesome baker. What’d they give you?”
Braxton pulled aside the red-and-white checked cloth. “Muffins.”
Mason glanced at them and inhaled appreciatively. “Mmm, blueberry cinnamon streusel. Bev’s specialty. Come on, I’ll put on a pot of decaf and we can have one by the fire.”
“Sounds romantic.”
Mason laughed. “Whatever, man, I’m off the market now, even for you.” He paused in the living room to light the fire. “Make yourself comfy. I’ll be right back.”
Braxton settled himself on the velvet-tufted couch and stretched his legs out in front of it. He was glad he’d decided to come down here for his leave. He’d missed Mason, missed serving and training with him. Leaving JTF2 and then the military had almost crushed his friend. Mason had been in a really dark place for a long time afterward, and Braxton had been worried as hell about him until Avery had come along.
When they were both settled with hot cups of decaf and a fresh muffin, Braxton set aside two for Avery for the morning and Mason got straight down to it. “Things are really rolling with RCT now.”
Rifle Creek Tactical, the business Braxton was a third partner in with Mason and Tate. They wanted him to be more than just a silent partner and financier, however. “You think you’ll be up and operational by spring?”
“Definitely. Main lodge will be finished by March, and April first is the initial booking date we’re looking at. But before we start finalizing everything I wanted to get your take on what you wanna do.”
Meaning, was Braxton going to stay in the military for another contract, or leave at the end of this current one. “I’m leaning toward reupping,” he said, feeling uncomfortable. Talking about this with Mason was hard. Braxton knew how much his friend missed being part of the unit. Mason had their emblem inked on his forearm, and Braxton had the unit’s motto on his.
Facta Non Verba.
Deeds, not words. That was exactly right.
People could say all kinds of bullshit. What mattered was their character, and how they chose to act. Actions always spoke louder than words.
As the silence expanded, Mason watched him with those piercing blue eyes. “How hard are you leaning?”
“Hard.” He was making over six figures a year now. Giving up that kind of guaranteed salary at the pinnacle of his career for all the uncertainty that came with joining a start up, was too big a risk. Even if it came with the perk of working with his best friends.
Mason nodded. “I get it. And I’m not gonna lie, leaving will be the hardest thing you ever do, so when it happens, make sure you do it for the right reasons.”
Braxton lowered his gaze, uncomfortable with the turn in topic but there was no avoiding it. Both Mason and Tate were waiting on him to make up his mind about what his future plans were. And while he hated keeping them in limbo, he flat out wasn’t ready to leave the military. “I know.”
It made him think of Tala. He was already thirty-five, a year older than her. She wanted a solid partner who was there for her, not someone who was gone for months at a time facing dangerous situations he could never tell her about. She wanted security, and he didn’t blame her one bit.
There were a few other guys in the unit in their mid-to-late thirties, but Braxton was well aware that he was reaching the end of his time in the field. The years of physical punishment were already taking their toll on his knees, lower back and shoulders. He might only have a handful of years left before he’d be looking at some kind of transition into a training or admin position for the unit.
The idea made him mentally cringe. He shrugged, trying to make light of his decision. “I always just figured I’d know when it’s time to hang it up, you know?”
Mason nodded. “Think you’ll stay in long enough to work your way up the command chain? Become part of the brass one day?”
He made a face. “No, I’d hate it.” He’d put his heart and soul into the unit, into being a JTF2 assaulter. Had dedicated half of his life to it. To be taken out of the action, to have his main sense of purpose stripped away from him, was gonna suck. Hard. But at some point it was going to happen.
“I think you would too.” Mason shook his head. “It’s so damn weird, isn’t it? The job’s hard. A lot of it’s the shits, but when push comes to shove and you’re forced with the prospect of having it all taken away, you miss it so fucking bad.”
“Yeah,” Braxton said quietly.
Some days he got weary of it, and yet he wouldn’t trade it for the world. And he was doubly hesitant to leave because he knew damn well that once he did there was no going back. He’d feel lost, like an outsider. Watching Mason struggle with those same issues had been sobering, and Braxton wasn’t looking forward to when it came to be his turn.
“Getting out’s a big decision,” Mason added. “You gotta be certain about what you want and do if for the right reasons, so I get it. Just know we’ll always have a place for you here if you decide you want to do more than bankroll the business.”
“Thanks.”
Mason inclined his head and popped another bite of muffin into his mouth. “And you can still be a part of it even if you don’t wind up moving down here. The immigration thing is tricky. Anytime you want to come down and teach a course, we’ll make it happen. Whatever you want, we can market it to whatever kind of group you want to teach.”
“Sounds good.” It would likely have to do with sniping skills or outdoor survival, his specialties. He was looking forward to using both when he took Tala out tomorrow. Although keeping his feelings locked down around her and denying his baser impulses was the ultimate exercise in self-control.
“Did Tala seem interested in a position when you guys approached her?” he asked after a pause. “She’s detail-oriented, and with her personality and organizational skills she’d be the perfect manager.” She would definitely keep everyone on task and on schedule, make sure everything ran smoothly.
“I think she’s on the fence about it. Maybe if Rylee decides to stay down here after graduation in another few years, Tala might change her mind.”
Braxton nodded. “Makes sense.” Her home was in Kelowna, but she loved her daughter more than anything.
The day she’d been wounded was branded into his memory. If his unit hadn’t left base late, if he hadn’t already been out of his vehicle and laying down suppressive fire while he rushed toward the ravaged convoy, he never would have reached her in time to help. He was thankful he had. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.
Including keep his feelings and hands to himself, even if it killed him.
He couldn’t give in. He would only wind up disappointing her, then losing her. She deserved better than that.
She deserved better than him.
****
“Move over, you’re hogging the bed,” Tala complained in the darkness, shoving her daughter with her hip. She was tired, but restless, unable to stop thinking about Braxton.
Rylee snorted at her and inched a bit more toward her side of the mattress. “Any farther and I’m gonna fall off.”
“I can get a camping mattress from your uncle if you want to sleep on the floor.”
“Or you could sleep on the floor.”
“Not happening, sweetheart. I was in labor with you for twenty-three hours. You owe me for life. Literally.” She shifted, getting comfortable as she draped her right knee over the pillow she’d tucked there. It helped ease the pressure on her stump.
“So, Braxton looked good, eh?” Rylee said after a minute.
Tala opened her eyes to stare at the wall, frowning. “Yeah. Why?”
“No reason. Just wondering if I need to act as chaperone between you two while he’s here.”
She rolled onto her back and turned her head to stare at the back of Rylee’s head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Rylee rolled over to face her and gave her some serious side-eye in the dimness. “Please.”
“Please what?” She’d been careful to hide her feelings for Braxton from everyone. Or she thought she had. But Rylee had somehow picked up on it.
She hadn’t dated anyone seriously since Rylee came along, and never introduced her daughter to any of them. She’d been too busy staying afloat, taking care of Rylee while working a full-time job, and being a reservist. Then she’d been injured and romance had been the furthest thing from her mind ever since—with one notable exception, and now he was here in Rifle Creek.
“All right, be that way.” Rylee turned back over to face the opposite wall.
Tala poked her in the shoulder, eaten up with curiosity. And hope. Always that stupid bubble of hope that refused to go away where he was concerned. “No, seriously, what did you mean?” Had Rylee noticed something from Braxton that she hadn’t?
“I’m just saying. I see what I see. And you two were sparking all over the place from the moment we picked him up at the airport. Or when he picked you up, I should say.”
Her heart swelled, but she instantly scolded herself. Him wanting her that way wasn’t the same as wanting her. “Whatever.”
“Seriously. You like him, right?”
Like? She was practically obsessed with him. “Rylee. Go to sleep.”
“That’s not a no.” She poked Tala in the back. “Come on, you totally do! You like him. Just say it.”
There was no point in trying to ignore this, because Rylee knew her better than anyone, and would never let it go until she relented. “Yes, fine, I like him. Now go to sleep.”
Rylee didn’t answer, but Tala could practically feel the smug glee emanating from her daughter. “I like him too,” Rylee said a minute later. “A lot. And so do Nana and Papa, by the way. And of course, Uncle Tater.”
“Good to know,” she muttered, pretending to be irritated even as her heart beat faster. It meant a lot that her family liked Braxton. He was solid, protective, and though he was reserved, he cared deeply about the people he was close to. He was the embodiment of dependable, motivated and brave.
And sexy. Sweet lord in heaven, he was so insanely sexy he revved her dormant libido just by standing in front of her.
Her mind drifted back in time to the first time they’d met that frigid winter day in Kelowna. She’d rushed straight over to her parents’ place after receiving Tate’s text that he’d just arrived in town.
Taking off her winter coat in the mudroom, she hurried for the stairs. “Hey, where’s my welcome hug, jerk?” She rushed upstairs, expecting to find Tate at the top, then stopped dead at the sight of the stranger standing there instead.
A big, dark, gorgeous stranger.
“Oh, hi.” She glanced around. Seeing no sign of her brother, her gaze strayed back to the man before her. Definitely military, she could tell by his bearing. “Sorry. I was talking to Tate before.”
His lips curved slightly in the midst of his thick, dark stubble, his deep brown eyes locked on her in a way that made her heart beat faster. “You must be his sister.”
“Tala,” she said, offering her hand. The instant his closed around hers, a shock of awareness zipped through her.
“I’m Braxton.”
Recognition flared. “Oh, you’re Mason’s friend.” They served together, and met Tate during a deployment in Afghanistan. “Nice to meet you. Is he here too?” Tate had probably wanted to surprise her.
He dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Out on the back deck with your parents.”
She slid her hands into her back pockets and leaned back on her heels, curious about him and already sensing that he was a man of few words. “What brings you guys to Kelowna?” Had to be a military thing.
“Training.”
He didn’t elaborate, but she guessed it must be for mountain and winter warfare training. She could get the details out of Mason later.
“There she is.”
She swung around to see her brother walking toward her. “Tater.” She rushed at him, threw her arms around him and laughed when he gave her the bear hug she’d been craving.
“I see you’ve met the straggler Mason brought with him.”
“I did.” She squeezed him with all her strength, not wanting to let go. “Ohh, it’s so good to see you.”
“Tater?” Braxton said behind her.
She let go of Tate as he answered. “Yeah, and only she and Rylee get to call me that, so don’t try.”
“Perk of being his big sister,” she said to Braxton, a ribbon of heat curling through her when that dark gaze locked with hers.
He’d been totally magnetic, even back then. That hadn’t changed.
And he was still quiet and mysterious. Controlled. Oh, so much iron control.
It made her wonder what it would take to make him lose control. The naughty part of her would love to rattle his chains and see what happened. Or find out just how he exercised it in bed.
She mentally shook herself. There was no point in carrying the thought any further than pure fantasy. She wasn’t going to make the first move even if he suddenly showed an interest, and wasn’t willing to throw everything between them away over what could only ever amount to a fling. Because Braxton was about the most unattainable man she’d ever met.
Chapter Four
Jason rushed up the stairs of the old apartment building, urgency pumping through him. He was exhausted and half-frozen after his latest trek back from the mountains. But almost everything was ready now. Only a few more things to take care of, and then they would finally be free.
Exiting onto his floor, he hurried down the old carpeted hallway that smelled of stale cigarette smoke and cooking grease. He could hear TVs blaring in a few of the apartments he passed, and shouting from his next-door neighbor, who was probably drunk again.
What a shithole. He couldn’t wait to leave this dump behind. Leave Missoula and this whole fucking state behind, and start over in the land of sunshine and palm trees.
He unlocked the apartment door, quickly stepped inside and locked it behind him, then set his loaded pistol on the kitchen counter. He might not have much going for him, but thanks to an old veteran neighbor when he was in his teens, he was a deadly shot and a skilled outdoorsman, able to go off grid and survive even in the harshest conditions.
He was also smart. Gifted, actually, at least according to the aptitude tests they’d given him back in school. But being smart didn’t put food on the table or keep you safe when you were a kid. So he’d dropped out and made money with a local gang to support him and his sister.
“Mel?” he called. She wasn’t in the kitchen or on the couch.
He walked farther into the apartment. The tiny Christmas tree he’d bought with her at a tree lot last week stood in the corner of the cramped living room, its sparse, thin branches sagging beneath the weight of the single st
rand of lights, and the handful of ornaments his sister had made. That and the two stockings hanging from the fake fireplace mantel—the only keepsakes from the childhood they’d both mostly rather forget—were all they had for holiday decorations.
Next year, he would give Mel the kind of Christmas she deserved.
She appeared in her bedroom doorway a moment later, her long, dark hair tousled around her face. “What?” she mumbled, looking half-asleep. Little wonder, since she’d worked the graveyard shift and had only gotten home a few hours ago.
“Come out. I need to talk to you.” It had been just the two of them for the past ten years. Ever since the day Jason turned fifteen and they’d left their abusive, addict father behind in South Dakota. She was four years younger, and he’d made it his mission in life to protect and provide for her, by whatever means necessary.
At his somber tone, the sleepy haze cleared from her eyes. She tugged her robe tighter around her and came out to perch on the arm of the couch, her expression anxious. “What’s wrong?”
He’d thought about how to tell her on the way home. But there was no good way. No way to break it to her gently. “You have to leave today.” They’d discussed the plan at length before this. Now the timeline had been moved up.
Her eyes widened. “What? When?”
“Tonight. Because it won’t be safe for you here after that.”
She shook her head, her face tight with fear. “Jason, what did you do?”
“I can’t tell you.” The less she knew, the better. “But don’t worry about me. I’ve got everything planned out.”
“Don’t worry about you? How can you—”
“It’ll be all right.” He had arranged everything carefully. “I just need to take care of a few more things.” He softened everything with a smile, trying to soothe her fear. “Only a few more days until New Years. Then we’ll be starting a brand new life out in California.”