Marine in the Wind (1Night Stand Series)

by Long, Heather

  “That sucks.” Sheri grimaced at the state of her shoes. Another big city transplant, the brunette didn’t ask why the heck Georgia bothered with heels in a place where boots, sneakers and sandals were commonplace.

  “Why the hell are you wearing stilts, Cricket?” A.J. wasn’t opposed to commenting on them.

  Sliding off her remaining shoe, Georgia stooped to pick them up and sighed. “No one calls me that anymore, A.J., and I’d prefer if we let dead nicknames stay dead.”

  “Good to know, Cricket.” His slow smile completely dismissed her irritation.

  Sheri thumped his arm. “Be nice. She’s having a bad day.” Looping her arm through Georgia’s, the librarian drew her over to the sidewalk. Good ol’ boy A.J. followed along like a silent sentinel. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m trying to track down my grandfather. He’s wandered off without his meds.” Her humiliation was complete. She’d broken her heels, lost her grandfather, and now had to rely on an outsider for help.

  “Can’t you just call him on his cell phone?” Like every other normal person, Sheri’s first idea was call him.

  “Nope.” A.J. drawled. “Old Man Crane doesn’t believe in cell phones.”

  “Oh.” Sheri scrunched her nose and stuck her tongue out at A.J.. “A lot like you, then.”

  “Hey, I have a cell phone.”

  “You just never turn it on.” The warm, natural and relaxed banter between them sent a stab of envy right through Georgia’s breast. She wanted a relationship like theirs, but who the hell would she ever meet in Freewill? Especially when the sleepy little town was the last place she wanted to settle.

  “That part’s true.” A.J. grinned, his entire focus on Sheri, and Georgia felt as faded as the sidewalk pavement. “As for your granddad, Cricket, he’s at the ranch—or he was a couple of hours ago. He was out walking.”

  Her blood boiled all over again. A.J.’s ranch sat a good ten miles outside of Freewill. Her grandfather didn’t drive. He’d managed to get around most of his life on two legs and didn’t see the point keeping a car after he retired from full-time work—which meant he’d walked those ten miles.

  He must have left right after she went out to run errands.

  “Did he look okay?” She was going to kill him. The batty old fool took too many risks with his health.

  “Looked fine to me. Feel free to head out there, if you like.” A.J. frowned. “Unless you think something’s really wrong and I can go right now.”

  “No.” If she sent A.J. Turner to fetch her grandfather, one of two things was certain to happen. The old man would be fine, but furious at her, and he’d give A.J. an earful about her overprotective vapors. Or he’d convince A.J. to never tell her if he showed up out there again. Neither was an acceptable outcome.

  “Thank you, but I can go. I’ll just run back and get my car.” And change my shoes, maybe take some aspirin. “You really sure you don’t mind if I drive out there?”

  “Not at all. We’re going to the movies and a proper dinner. Sheri has a cell, if you need us.” They paused long enough to give her the number and Georgia waved them on. The last thing she needed to do was spoil anyone else’s day just because hers had been ruined.

  She might be overprotective and her grandfather didn’t like it when she fussed, but his first surgery happened after it had taken over two hours for someone to find him after his heart attack. He could have died. Time was muscle during a cardiac episode.

  The doctor’s words repeated in her head over and over. Time is muscle. The longer it took for someone to find him, the greater his chances of not surviving. Her bare feet were sore after she jogged home and changed into a pair of loose sneakers. The drive to A.J.’s took forever, and she scanned the fields and woods on either side of the road on the off chance her grandfather had already headed home.

  By the time she arrived at the ranch, her foul temper took a backseat to genuine worry. She checked the house, the barn, and walked in circles around the paddocks. He wasn’t there.

  Her heart in her throat, she checked her phone—maybe someone had called or texted to say he went home, but the cell remained silent and blank. She turned around when she heard a faint sound and stared as her grandfather walked toward her, a bronze-red god at his side.

  The men spoke to each other and didn’t seem aware of her at all.

  Grandfather is fine.

  Relief hit first and staggered her. Squaring her shoulders, she marched toward them, her temper resurrected. She didn’t know his new friend, or why they were together, but she planned to give them both a piece of her mind.

  Her grandfather’s companion glanced up, noticed her, and for the second time that day the world wobbled—only it wasn’t a broken heel, but the potential to break her heart that rocked her world.

  ***

  The beautiful woman marched straight for them and all the blood in Greg’s body shot south. He’d spent most of his time on the ranch or at Mike’s Place. The women he knew were therapists, Marines, sailors—or A.J.’s girlfriend. This lady, with her mane of midnight black hair, sun-kissed skin, and soft pink lips, reminded him of all he’d been missing, a sprite of nature given living, breathing form.

  “I’m sorry, son,” Crane muttered and picked up his pace. “Georgia….”

  “Don’t you ‘Georgia’ me.” The beautiful sprite turned into a fire-breathing dragon, right down to the heat flaming in her eyes. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy, Grandpa. This—?” She waved her arms toward the ranch and included Greg in her sweep. “Is the complete opposite of taking it easy.”

  “I’m fine. Georgia, this is—”

  “I don’t care who this is.” She exhaled a hard breath and looked at Greg. “No offense. I’m sure you’re very nice. I know you served, and we’re grateful. But this is my grandfather you’re dragging all over hell and beyond, not one of your Marines.”

  “Georgia Crane.” Icy astonishment froze the older man’s tone and he scowled.

  “No. You’re an hour late. You didn’t tell me where you were going. You didn’t leave a note. I’ve looked for you everywhere. If I hadn’t run into A.J., I wouldn’t know where you were now.” She held up a bottle and shook it. “You’re supposed to take this, on schedule, three times a day. You can’t skip.”

  Anger tightened the lines around her eyes and her mouth had a hard, pinched look. Greg hadn’t encouraged the older man to take a long walk, but he hadn’t discouraged him either.

  “It was good to meet you, Greg.” Crane turned away from his granddaughter pointedly and offered his hand. Greg shook it. “Don’t forget to keep listening.”

  “I won’t. You two all right to get back to town?” He didn’t doubt for an instant the little firecracker could handle it, but in her current frame of mind, they might need a mediator.

  “We’re fine.” The older man didn’t seem hurried. “Georgia, this is Greg Rainwater.”

  “Mr. Rainwater.” So tightly wound up, she said his name like a dismissal.

  “Miss Crane,” he replied, echoing her prim tone.

  “Grandpa, come on. You need your meds and probably something to eat with them. We can pick up sandwiches on the way.” She may as well have acted like Greg didn’t exist, but since the pair seemed likely to engage in an argument at any moment, he left it alone.

  After loading her grandfather in the car and walking around to the passenger side, she set her fierce gaze on him again. It raked him from head to toe before she gave him a grudging nod, although her expression didn’t ease one iota.

  Greg stared a long time after the car disappeared into the distance. And he listened.

  If only he could be certain what he listened for.

  ***

  The slam of a truck door jerked him out of sleep. His chest burned with every breath he took and sweat soaked his sheets. It didn’t matter how many months passed; the nightmares hadn’t stopped. His legs hurt. Rubbing his thigh, he pushed a thumb into the top of a hard kno
t. Cramps seized his overtired muscles and added to his agony.

  Teeth clenched, he refused to scream. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he flattened his bare feet to the cool wood floor. It helped, but only a little. He’d undergone months of physical therapy after the surgeons deemed him fit enough, but muscle atrophy was a bitch.

  Force of will got him to his feet, and he staggered toward the bathroom, using the wall and dresser for support. He had pain meds the doctors prescribed, but he’d tired of living under their fog. Back and forth he paced until his rebellious muscles calmed.

  If only the wind could help with the pain.

  Chapter Two

  Greg braced the post for A.J. He’d finished most of the interior on the barn, but they decided to add a new run-in to one of the larger pastures for horses not in the breeding stock. A.J. explained his reasons, but Greg knew motorcycles and cars, not animals. Sink a post? That he could do. A week in Wyoming and the foggy haze separating him from the world dissipated some.

  “Sheri’s coming out tonight.” A.J. grunted as he packed the hole. They’d sunk the post three feet deep and used a bare amount of cement to hold it in place. The rest would be done naturally.

  “I’ll get lost.” Greg didn’t need a map drawn out for him. The bunkhouse had another two to three days of work on it, but the weather outdoors was nice enough. He didn’t mind grabbing a sleeping bag and camping out. Even the cooler nights were a welcome respite.

  “You don’t have to get lost, just…give us a few hours.” The man grinned and surveyed their work. “Okay, let it go.”

  Greg released the post and retreated a step. They both waited to see if it would lean. Even the slightest tilt and they’d have to repack it. They needed all four posts to be rock steady when they added the roof or it would prove an exercise in futility.

  “Oorah.” They exhaled in unison when the post remained ramrod straight.

  “One down, three to go.” A.J. glanced at his watch. “We can call it after that. Probably be time for Old Man Crane to show up.”

  “Sounds good.” They worked well together, but that came from years of service in the field. It helped that neither felt the urge to fill in the silence with empty chatter. They only spoke when they had something to say. “I may work on the bunkhouse later.” If he were busy, then he wouldn’t feel compelled to follow the old man on his wanderings as he had every single day for a week.

  It always started out the same. The old Indian would appear behind Greg wherever he worked, as though an illusion conjured from the air itself. He’d offer an enigmatic greeting and clap Greg’s shoulder before beginning his hike. He didn’t plan to follow him, but after meeting his granddaughter—and witnessing the heat of her temper—he appreciated why the old man ‘took off’ on his little jaunts.

  “Save it. We get these posts set today. We can finish the bunkhouse tomorrow. We’ll get rain this weekend. Save the interior stuff for that.” They worked at opposite corners, using posthole diggers to clear the way for the next set of posts.

  “We’ll see.” Greg nodded.

  “How is Old Man Crane? Georgia was worried about him the other day.” Apparently today A.J. had something to say.

  “He’s fine.” He kept his comments about the harridan of a granddaughter to himself. A woman that beautiful shouldn’t be so hostile. But even thinking about Georgia sent a dark thrill through him. She’d be a wildcat in bed, a hellion, and it would take a strong man to tame her—hostility had never seemed so sexy.

  “Don’t let him overdo it. I know he likes to roam, everyone does, but Georgia worries.”

  “She could be a little kinder to him. He’s a grown man, not an irresponsible child.” It came out a lot harsher than he intended, but her dismissal stung. She’d berated her elder as though he were a hooligan out vandalizing property rather than a man out for a walk.

  “Sure, but you don’t know the whole story.” A.J. finished his hole and retrieved a bottle of water from a cooler they kept stocked. He tossed one to Greg and opened the second one to drink. “Old Man Crane had a couple of back-to-back heart attacks last year. The first one wasn’t too bad, and they did surgery and corrected the issue. Seemed pretty straightforward. The second one hit him the day she took him home. They nearly didn’t get him to the hospital on time, and he took months to recover.”

  Greg took a long drink. He understood months in a hospital bed and difficult recovery. It made the older man’s choices clearer, more sensible. “He seems to be recovering well.”

  “He is, but he doesn’t follow medical instructions. When Georgia took him home that day, she did it because he’d insisted. He checked himself out against medical advice. She didn’t find out that part until after the second attack.” A.J. tossed the empty bottle into the bucket they used to gather their trash while they worked.

  The explanation made her over-the-top response to a walk clearer and more sensible. “I’ll keep an eye on him.” He liked Crane. Like A.J., the man didn’t say much, but Greg found value in every nugget he shared.

  “I appreciate it. Now give me a hand with this one….”

  Conversation over, they spent the next two hours getting the last posts into place. Fortunately, the next three stood as erect as the first one they’d sunk. A.J. packed away the tools and headed to the house, leaving Greg alone to wait for Crane.

  Sure enough, the old man walked up the long drive toward the ranch house. Greg could ask him about his granddaughter and if she knew where he was, or he could leave it be. Crane didn’t behave senile.

  “You look like you swallowed a toad.” The old man leaned on a walking stick and studied Greg.

  “Wondering if you told your granddaughter you were off for a walk.” And if she’d be coming to fetch him again. Maybe he could apologize for his contribution to her frustration.

  “It’s possible.” Crane nodded toward the woods. “Shall we go see what the wind has to say today?”

  ***

  Georgia glared at the woods. She’d seen her grandfather shuffle off with his new best friend and wondered if she should follow after him or not. When he proved recalcitrant to obey doctor’s orders on any level, she’d decided to follow him. Every day he walked out to the ranch and met up with the gorgeous Greg Rainwater. Sheri had filled her in on A.J.’s addition to the ranch over coffee at the café.

  Well, she filled in Bea at the café, and Georgia eavesdropped shamelessly from one table away. Rainwater had been hurt in Afghanistan or Iraq—Sheri hadn’t been sure which and didn’t want to press A.J. for details—and he’d recovered in Texas for months. When discharged, A.J. offered him a place to stay and to work. Apparently, A.J. planned to bring in a few more retired or recovering Marines. That got the entire café chattering. Is he going to open a facility like the one Sheri described in Texas? Would he close his ranch? Where would they put them all?

  Lots of questions and even more offers to help. Freewill might not be overly fond of strangers or big city folk who wanted to change them, but since one of their golden sons had put forth the idea, they’d already suggested taking it to the Mayor and town council.

  Exasperation warred with concern and Georgia adjusted her hiking boots. At least she’d dressed for walking this time. She hadn’t followed them before, not when they went together. Trusting the Marine to make sure her grandfather made it out to the ranch wasn’t difficult, but what were they doing out there?

  Why every day? What can he talk to this guy about that he can’t with me? And why did it have to be such a long and arduous walk for her grandfather? If he asked, she could drive him out there. Or take him for a walk herself.

  Shutting the car off and jerking her keys out of the ignition, she wasn’t ready when A.J. thumped the top of her car and peered at her through the open driver’s window. “Hey, Cricket.”

  Her heart slammed against her ribs and she barely swallowed her scream. Closing her eyes, she tried to force slow, steady breaths, but adrenaline fueled her
erratic pulse.

  “Hey, A.J.” The words came out a hell of a lot weaker than she intended.

  “Your grandfather went for a walk with Greg. You want some coffee while you wait?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I was….” I’m what? About to follow my grandfather and his friend through the woods to spy on them? Yeah, that sounds mature. “I thought I’d leave a note.” Will he buy that feeble lie?

  “I’ll do it. What did you want to tell him?” All earnest cowboy, he squatted down and tipped his hat back to look at her.

  “To give me a call when he’s ready to go home. I’ll come by, pick him up.” Yep. Still came out feeble and weak-minded. She sighed. “A.J., what are they doing?”

  He grinned. “They’re talking, Cricket. About…whatever it is that they want to talk about.”

  “But why does he keep doing this? He knows how sick he’s been. He keeps this up and he risks another heart attack, or worse, and your place is hell and gone from the hospital. If he collapses in the woods….”

  “Hey.” A.J. covered her hand with his. “I get it, but Greg’s a solid guy. If anything happens, he’ll bring your grandfather in, trust me. That’s part of the reason he goes with him, so he has some company. You can’t pen a man up and expect him to still feel like a man.”

  “I’m not trying to pen him up, I’m protecting him….” She clenched her hands on the steering wheel. “He’s my grandfather.” His heart attacks scared the hell out of her.

  “Then let him be. You live with him. You check his medicine. You see him every night and every morning, but he’s a man, Georgia. He raised you. He raised your daddy. You think he wants you looking after him like he’s the kid?”

  She couldn’t fault the honest assessment. From anyone else she might have resented it, but A.J. had been her first crush so many years ago. She used to think he hung the moon and the stars. When he’d dated her sister, Georgia would sneak out the window onto the roof every night to see if he kissed her goodnight after bringing her home. In some ways, she wished she was still a twelve-year-old, daydreaming about her first kiss and picturing the cowboy at the window.