by Fiona Archer
“I earned that scar during our last tour of Afghanistan. My team ran into a group of Taliban hiding in an abandoned house. We engaged. I got into hand-to-hand combat. His knife found its way into my thigh.” He shrugged. A risk he’d faced every day. One day your luck runs out.
“What, umm, happened to the bad guy?”
“I broke his neck.”
“Oh.”
He lifted her chin with his knuckle. “That’s war, Chloe. It’s ugly, brutal.” And then some.
“Were you sent home?”
He nodded. “After a stint in a hospital, yeah, I was packed off to Willow Creek. Flynn joined me a few weeks later.”
“Was he hurt, too?” She frowned. “That scar on his cheek is years old.”
“Not physically. Flynn—” He shoved out a loud sigh. “Flynn has his own demons, Chloe. While I was in the hospital, an op went bad. Like I said, war’s brutal.”
And it can still destroy a man, years later, if he allows it. But I won’t let you, Flynn.
“Then I’m glad you guys had each other.” Her fingers threaded through the hairs on his chest. “Plus, you had your family, too. Your mom must have been so worried.”
“More pissed. I don’t think she ever forgave me for enlisting. Dad sure as shit hasn’t.”
Arguments. Vows of recriminations. You can’t turn your back on your legacy! Over time the pain had mellowed to a dull scratch.
She reared back to see his face. “What?”
“I was the son, the first born, and destined to carry on the family’s gentleman squire tradition and all its entitled bullshit. Instead, I threw that away. Joined the army. The fact I busted my arse and won selection into the SASR meant bugger all.” His passing out parade. One of the proudest days of his life. His parents went to Melbourne for the Australian Open.
And then he’d added to the insult.
“The fact I bonded with the son of a drunk, who had three younger brothers flirting with delinquency, iced the cake. Christ, I thought Dad would have an aneurism the first time Flynn’s brothers visited the station. Mum actually tried to hide the silver.”
Flynn had slapped him on the shoulder and told him not to worry. The man had more class in his big toe than his mother had in her whole diet-starved, exclusive, private-girl-school-educated debutante body.
“You’re kidding.” Her mouth hung open.
“My parents believe their name and our family wealth entitles them to whatever privilege is on offer.” Everything from free upgrades on flights to buying first prize for their son in his school’s science fair. The shame of that day still burned. He’d worked hard, but not as hard as some. Why so surprised, boy? New science labs don’t come cheap. Ask your father.
“My kid sister somehow managed to stay sane. Abby’s in her final year studying sociology and plans to save the world. Another disappointment for the oldies.”
“So, Duncan King, one generation’s black sheep, hands his legacy over to that of another’s. It has a kind of symmetry, don’t you think?”
He flicked the end of her nose with his finger. “You may have something there, little teacher. I wish I’d met the crafty old bastard. Notice of Duncan’s bequest came right before I was injured. By then, Flynn and I had already decided not to re-up.”
“And here you both are.” Chloe curled back against his side. Right where he wanted her.
“Yep, and we plan to stay. We’ll fly to Australia for visits. Abby’s due here again soon. King’s Bluff is now our home. We’ve invested our future here, put down roots.”
Here, not back across the Pacific. Owning land, employing locals, expanding services—any way you sized it up, it equaled one heck of a commitment.
And he and Flynn would never back away from a commitment. To this town. And to her.
Chapter Fourteen
Flynn leaned his forearms on the handle of the grocery cart and ignored the woman on the other side of the aisle jabbering into her cell phone. Shopping for groceries two days before Thanksgiving was far from his idea of heaven. Yet here he was, surrounded by stressed-out mothers with screaming toddlers. Why, in all that was bloody holy, had he agreed to this?
“Okay, next item, unsalted butter.”
Yeah, now he remembered.
Chloe, standing to his left, pad and pencil in hand, ticked off the latest item on her shopping list for the King’s Haven Thanksgiving Day celebration. She’d begged him for some time out, a moment of freedom from the ranch. Hell, those liquid pound-puppy eyes of hers would drive him to ruin.
Quinn, who was maintaining lookout from a discreet distance, provided him with the necessary comfort to avoid forcibly patting down every unidentified male within a five-mile radius.
“I’m pleased you and Gretchen are working together to pull off Thanksgiving Day. She’s really taken a shine to you.”
Her answering smile added a spark to her eyes and washed away any remaining frustration.
“I was surprised when she asked me to help. I mean, she’s the den mother of the ranch. Not just for the hands, but for all you guys.” She placed two packets of butter in the cart then moved further down to the milk. “You know what they say about two women in the kitchen, but Gretchen’s so welcoming. I’m looking forward to working with her to make the day special for everyone.”
“Of course it’ll be special, luv, it’s our first Thanksgiving together,” Flynn said. And many more to come.
“Yes, I…yes.” The stain warming her cheeks made him want to pick her up and cuddle her close.
“How did you spend last year’s?”
“Lunch at a fellow teacher’s house. Then a couple of hours at a homeless shelter. They needed volunteers and since I didn’t have anyone…” She shrugged and turned her attention to the dairy compartment.
A generous soul.
He waved a hand at the various cartons of milk on display. “You’re not going to make us drink that nonfat stuff, right? Have mercy, woman.”
“Breathe easy, cowboy.” Light danced in her eyes as she grabbed a large bottle of iced coffee and set it in the cart. “I have to feed my addiction. Nothing hits the spot like a glass of iced coffee.” Chloe smiled and placed her pad and pen in her handbag. “Okay, we’re done.”
“Excellent. We stop at the library to collect the books Reagan’s holding for you and we’re outta Dodge, lady.”
Flynn paid for the groceries, politely turning down her offer to pay. Quinn stood at the main entrance, alternatively scanning the street and inside the store. The bald giant’s gaze hardened each time it landed on the back of Karl Wagner, who stood deep in conversation with Frank Jessop, one of his cronies, right outside the entrance. Why Jessop stayed loyal to Wagner, whose condescension flowed like Niagara Falls, baffled Flynn. Wagner must be an idiot magnet.
Flynn carried the two bags of groceries in one hand, his other keeping a hold of Chloe’s hand. Quinn met them at Flynn’s black truck, parked right outside the store.
“Next stop the library, then home,” Flynn said.
“Library it is.” Quinn winked at Chloe—Flynn guessed he was trying to coax her out of her natural shyness—then walked the three parking spaces to his own truck.
Flynn had to bite down on a grin. She’d likely faint dead away if she discovered Quinn was the one who’d dug down to the very DNA of her secrets. And cleared her in his own investigation.
After storing the groceries in the back of the truck, he opened the passenger door and hoisted Chloe into the seat. The lush curves of her jeans-covered bottom molded to his hands, inviting him to linger. Strip her, place her over his lap, slide his hands over her pearl-white bottom, then spread her cheeks and trail one finger—
“I can’t wait to see Reagan.” Chloe’s excited chatter dragged him back with a crash.
“Yeah, great. Put your seat belt on.” Flynn sighed and discreetly adjusted himself.
The minx caught his movement and poked out her tongue. He grinned. God, he loved her playfu
lness. Mind you, it did pay to keep a sub on her toes.
“Careful, little sub. Poking out a tongue earns punishment. I can think of better ways to put that tongue to work.” He laughed outright at the silent O formed by those delicious lips.
In less than five minutes, they parked at the side of the town library, a two-room brick building that had started life as the first school in King’s Bluff.
Past the wide doorway, they stowed their coats on the pegs provided and walked up to the center counter. Reagan, a curvy brunette, her hair in one long braid over her shoulder, called out from the shelves of books to the right.
“Hey, stranger, there you are!” She hustled over to greet Chloe with a hug, her gaze regretful. “I can’t believe some jerk broke into your house. Honey, we’re all so sorry this happened to you.”
Flynn hadn’t had many dealings with the librarian. So far, the little cutie impressed him.
Chloe nodded, her smile soft. “Everyone has been so kind. Penny Gordon from the diner called me yesterday, right after your call, as did Suzie Monroe. I’ve only met Gabe’s wife twice. I didn’t expect so many people to care, especially so soon after I arrived in town.”
“Hey, city girl, you’re a part of this community now.” Reagan laughed as she moved to stand behind the counter. “You’ve volunteered to cover story times here at the library, and let’s not forget, Calliope Gordon thinks you walk on water. I kept telling her last teacher that any child who read as much as that one should be nurtured, but that didn’t happen until you came along.” Reagan’s lips pressed hard together as she shook her head.
Chloe waved away her friend’s praise. “I simply heeded your advice. She’s such a vibrant little girl and a wonderful student.” She clapped her hands together. “So, what goodies have you put away for me?”
As the women discussed Chloe’s cache of books, Flynn nodded to Quinn, who’d entered the warmth of the library. Those bitter November winds were a bitch. As Quinn walked toward the counter, Flynn turned to check if Chloe was ready to leave.
The question died on his lips, his attention snared by the scarlet stain sweeping over Reagan’s cheeks as her gaze collided with Quinn’s. Chloe, busy reading the back cover of one of her books, seemed oblivious to the byplay.
Well now. Quinn, a Dom who was often the recipient of female admiration, seemed to hold the woman under a spell. He moved in closer, standing inches from the counter. His wide mouth held no smile, but his gaze made one slow sweep of the librarian.
Only the jingle of Quinn’s phone broke the moment.
Flynn managed to withhold a chuckle as Reagan fled to the computer on the far side of the counter and served a customer.
“Okay, should be fine. I’ll clear it with Flynn and then we’ll head back. No, I’ll call if there’s any delay.” Quinn pocketed his phone before facing Flynn. “That was Gretchen. The post office called to tell her there’s a parcel from her daughter waiting for pickup. I’m going over there to collect it then I’ll meet you back here and we’ll head out.”
“Sure. Just pull up out front and honk the horn when you’re done.” Flynn slapped Quinn on the back as he walked past.
“Um, Reagan, what plans do you have for Thanksgiving?” Chloe’s shy question warmed Flynn’s chest better than a hot toddy on a winter’s day. He itched to gather his softhearted sub in his arms and snuggle her to his side.
“I’m invited to lunch with Phyllis Garner and her family, one of my longtime volunteers. She insisted since it’s the first Thanksgiving since Dad’s passing.” Reagan blinked, ducking her chin as she placed the books in the canvas bag Chloe had brought along for the job.
That’s right. Sam Edwards had passed last January. Poor kid.
“What about afterwards, honey? Chloe would love to have you included in our celebration, and it would be great to have a friend of hers there to share the day with us.” Flynn rubbed his hand up and down the small of Chloe’s back. Contentment warmed his belly as she eased further into his caress.
“Well, um, I don’t have anything planned, but—”
“Great, you can join us anytime. We’ll be expecting you, Reagan. Don’t let Chloe down.” Flynn added a wink to soften the blow. Manipulative bastard? Sure. Quinn could thank him later.
The whoosh of the entry door made him turn around.
“Flynn, I’m so glad you’re here.” Heather Clark, one of the employees of the Gazette, entered the library, cheeks rosy red and her swollen tummy looking ready to burst.
“Jesus, woman, tell me you’re not in labor?” He rushed to get a chair and eased the woman into the seat.
Heather laughed. “No! Nothing like that, I promise.” She waved at both Reagan and Chloe. “Hi, Chloe. I met you at the town dance, but not sure if you remember. I’m so sorry to hear about what happened to your house. I hope they catch the jerk real soon.” She grimaced. “My car’s parked outside, and I’ve got a dead battery. I’d usually walk the three blocks home, but with this wind and my shopping, I don’t dare take the chance. Rick’s out on a run to the hospital in Sheridan and won’t be back for an hour or so. Wouldn’t you know it, married to a paramedic and he’s not around.” She smiled at Flynn. “Do you think you could give me a lift home?”
“No worries, luv. Hang tight for a sec, okay?” At Heather’s nod, he turned to Chloe, who had moved off to the side. He couldn’t abandon a pregnant woman—hell, any woman for that matter. “Come on, honey. We’re taking Heather home.”
“I’m fine. I’ll wait here with Reagan. There’s a couple of books I want to check out.” She shooed him away with her fingers. “Go take care of Heather.”
Indecision warred within him. A quick visual calmed his fears. Iron bars on all four windows. Heavy wooden door with one six-inch square of glass. She was safe in the library. Quinn wouldn’t be long. He sighed. “Reagan, would you lock the doors? You can let anyone in who you know, but I’m not prepared to leave Chloe behind unless I know she’s protected.”
“Flynn, that’s not—”
“Negotiable, Chloe. Either Reagan locks you ladies in or you come with me.”
Reagan nodded. “Hey, no problem. I can see the door from here. If anyone comes, I’ll see who it is and let them in.”
He was liking this woman more every minute.
Chloe stepped closer. “Flynn, please don’t worry. Trent would never attack me in broad daylight. Not when it’s so crowded. At midnight with nobody around, sure. But I’m okay here.”
“I’ll be fifteen minutes, max. Once Heather’s settled, I’ll come back for you. Okay?”
“Of course. Take whatever time you need.” She rested her hand on his forearm, gave a little squeeze, then stepped around him and smiled at Heather. “Rest up when you get home. A dead battery is an easy fix, but an expectant momma needs special care.”
Heather allowed Flynn to help her to her feet and gave a small wave as she walked to the door.
Flynn stuffed his arms in his coat and fixed Chloe with a hard stare. “Stay here, Chloe. Do not leave the library. Quinn will be back soon enough, and I’ll call him once I’m in the car.”
He lifted one brow until she nodded. With a quick kiss on her lips, he escorted Heather out the door and watched through the window as Reagan turned the lock and gave him a thumbs-up. He cursed the rusty-edged twinge in his gut that mocked his earlier sense of ease. The quicker he got his arse back here, the better.
* * * *
Chloe stood at the library’s front window and watched Flynn escort Heather out to his car. She had to smile at the sight of the hefty man so carefully helping the small basketball-round woman. He was such a marshmallow under that rough exterior.
“So, these are the books you’re checking out?” Reagan stacked six books in a neat pile. “I’ve put you on the waiting list for the latest Cherise Sinclair. Mindy Jenkins has it out right now, but I swear it’s her husband that makes her returns overdue. I think he tries to memorize all the Dom moves like they’re some
disco dances from the seventies.”
You had to love a town whose library had an erotic romance section complete with its own waiting list. Only in King’s Bluff.
“I have Cherise on my Kindle, but sometimes I want to read in paperback. There’s something about holding a book, turning a page. I like the ritual. Making my cup of tea, finding a comfy chair.” Chloe sighed. “I’m a nerd.”
“True, but that makes two of us. Hand over your library card so I can get you checked out.”
She dug into her handbag, pulled out her wallet, and retrieved her card. One zip through the card reader and Reagan then scanned the front of each book. The latest Sophie Oak book whizzed past the scanner. Chloe’s answer to watching football on Thanksgiving. Now that was bliss.
Her cell phone chirped as she collected her now-full book bag. One quick glance at the screen revealed Gunnerson’s Drug Store. She’d arranged to come by and collect her prescription.
“Hey, is that you, Pam? I was coming over after finishing at the library.”
“Hi, Chloe. Yeah, look, can you come now? We’re closing early today, in about five minutes. I forgot to tell you when you called earlier. I’m sooo sorry. I know you need that prescription. We’re open all day tomorrow, but our family has arrived early for Thanksgiving and put our plans all over the place. Hubby is ready to turn the lights out.” Her loud sigh spoke volumes. “So, can you come now?”
Leave the library. As in walk out the door and disobey Flynn’s direct order. On the other hand, go without her birth control pills, which she had run out of this morning. Yeah, that won’t work.
“I’ll be there right away.” She ended the call after Pam’s grateful thanks.
“Everything okay?” Reagan came up, her lowered voice reminding Chloe she was in a library. Right, good point. Don’t yell out about your birth control issues in a public place.
“I need to pick up my prescription. Gunnerson’s is closing early, in fact, right about now.” She glanced over at the drug store. It was just on the other side of the small parking lot, no more than one hundred feet away. “I’ll run over and collect it while I’m waiting for the guys to return.”