Her Hopes and Dreams (Ardent Springs Book 4)

by Terri Osburn

  A memory sprang to mind. An encounter Noah hadn’t thought about in nearly a year. With the glare of a drill sergeant, a hard-ass doctor had shut down his pity party. According to Doc Levine, contrary to everything Noah believed about his situation, his brain could recover. It wouldn’t be easy, and he might never get back to where he’d been before his first deployment, but the one way to guarantee a permanent place in the abyss was to give up. To admit defeat and let the disorder run amok.

  That had been the day he’d joined the first study, confident that things would change. Six months later, the study ended, and nothing had changed. Not for him. But others had seen improvement. Or so he’d believed, until a couple of months later when he’d spotted a familiar name in an online article. William Lewis had been one of the lucky six in Noah’s study who’d come out the other side a new man. Except the effects hadn’t lasted. The soldier had put a gun in his mouth and shut off the noise for good.

  No way would Noah become a statistic. Regardless of the nightmares and the headaches and the constant fear, there would be no early exit for him. At least not at his own hand. Which was why he refused to keep a gun in the house. No guns. No alcohol. No desperate acts of stupidity or desperation. This defect might steal his nights, but it wouldn’t take his life.

  Especially not now.

  After leaving Carrie on her porch, he’d jumped in a lukewarm shower, given his body the release it needed, and settled on the couch with the latest copy of Cycle World magazine. Around midnight, he’d snagged the open bag of chips from the pantry and switched over to American Iron, but before long, he’d drifted off to sleep with the lights still on. When he woke, the sun hung high in the sky, and though he’d dreamed about being back in the desert, none of the usual scenes had played out. No explosions. No carnage. No nightmares.

  A full night’s sleep was rare, and Noah hadn’t felt this awake in longer than he could remember. Focusing on the chores in the house first, he finished two loads of laundry, washed the dishes that had been piling up since the weekend before, and kept a constant eye on Carrie’s trailer. When the Dodge Ram had pulled into her drive, he’d fought the urge to step outside.

  While the stranger buckled Molly into the backseat of his truck, Carrie glanced over to the farmhouse three or four times. He assumed she hoped he wasn’t watching to see her drive off with another man, but then the truck pulled out of the drive and he spotted the words BOYD’S CUSTOM CABINETS displayed across the tailgate. Several seconds later, Noah realized why the name sounded familiar.

  Carrie’s last name had been Boyd when Noah met her. Which meant her escort had been her ex-husband and the future groom. Guilt churned in his gut for assuming that Carrie had been sneaking off with someone else. As if having the guy pull into her driveway in the light of day was the way to keep him a secret.

  Two hours later, Noah was still kicking himself for not going out to say good-bye when he heard the knock. Due to the warm weather, he’d left the inside door open and spotted Kyra through the screen. Well, hell.

  “What’s going on?” he said.

  “And howdy-do to you, hot stuff. I thought I’d come out and check on you.”

  “I don’t need to be checked on.”

  “Aw, come on, Noah. I’ve got one of Mama’s pecan pies.” She held a brown bag in the air. “Let me in.”

  Against his better judgment, Noah unhooked the latch on the door. “For a minute,” he said, holding it open.

  Kyra’s breasts brushed his chest as she entered. The sleeveless flannel tied at her waist hung open wide enough to reveal the lace along the top of her bra. From his vantage point, Noah could see a lot more than lace.

  “Is the kitchen back here?” she asked, continuing through the living room without waiting for a response.

  “You can put the pie in the fridge,” he said when he caught up to her.

  “Don’t be silly.” Kyra pulled the pie and a tub of whipped cream out of the bag before moving to the cupboards. Noah remained in the doorway to the living room, watching her carry plates and silverware to the table. “You don’t even have a clock on the wall,” she said, lifting the foil off the pie. “This place needs a woman’s touch. I’ll have to hit up some of the flea markets in town and see what I can find for you.”

  “I like it the way it is.” Noah crossed his arms over his chest. “Why are you here, Kyra?”

  She dished two slices onto the plates and reached for the whipped topping. “Stop acting like a grumpy bear and come over here. We both know you’re dying for a piece of this pie.” Red lips curled into a seductive smile. “I brought it just for you,” she purred, licking cream off her finger.

  Noah nearly rolled his eyes. “I told you before, Kyra, I’m not interested in what you’re offering.”

  “But you love Mama’s pecan pie.”

  “This isn’t a game. Go home to your husband.”

  Undeterred, she twirled a lock of black hair around her finger as she strutted toward him. “Lenny’s boring. That’s why we have our arrangement. He gets to show me off to his friends at those dumb dinner parties, and I get to amuse myself elsewhere.”

  “I’m not here for your amusement,” Noah said. “And you’re better than this sex kitten act.”

  Green eyes snapped with anger. “I’ve got boys all over town itching to spend time with me.”

  “I’m not a boy.” He nodded toward the table. “Pack up and go home.”

  Jaw tight, she marched to the table and slammed the food back in the bag. “You always were an arrogant bastard.”

  “And you were a good kid. What happened, Kyra?”

  “Shove it, Noah.” Stomping past him, she slammed through the screen door. As he stepped onto the porch, he witnessed the pie fly through the open window of a burgundy Camaro, but instead of getting in the car, Kyra stepped through the gate toward Carrie’s trailer.

  “What are you doing?” he yelled.

  “None of your business,” she hurled back, flipping him the middle finger over her head.

  Before he reached the edge of the yard, she was pounding on Carrie’s front door.

  “She isn’t home,” he said. “You’re wasting your time.”

  Throwing her hands on her hips, Kyra said, “So you know her comings and goings now? What, do you watch her through your little window like some nosy old lady?”

  Tired of dealing with the petulant child, Noah ignored the question and ambled back to his porch.

  “Are you friends with this bitch?” she demanded, returning to his property.

  Noah spun. “Don’t call her a bitch.”

  Kyra stared openmouthed. “You can’t be serious. You’re fucking my brother’s slut?”

  “Watch your mouth,” he growled.

  “I can’t believe you’d take her over me.”

  “I’m not taking anyone. Go home, Kyra.”

  Shaking her head, she fumed. “She’s the reason he’s dead. Did you know that?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “No matter what he gave her, she was never happy. She acted like she couldn’t stand for him to touch her. Made him feel worthless, and that’s why he got drunk that night. That’s why he got in that fight. Because those assholes were taunting him about his tail-swishing wife.” Kyra snarled, “He died defending her, and she didn’t even deserve it.”

  “Enough,” Noah roared. “Get out of here. Now.”

  Backing toward her car, Kyra said, “You’ll regret getting mixed up with her.” The Camaro rumbled to life and sent gravel flying when she stomped on the gas, sending the car hurdling into the road.

  Chapter 12

  Who knew that Abigail Williams would be a horny drunk?

  “It’s been so long,” Abby said, waving her champagne glass in the air, “I think I have tumbleweeds rolling around in there.”

  Carrie patted her on the arm. “But I bet they’re pretty tumbleweeds.”

  The tipsy widows had paired off toward the front of t
he limo, while the chicks getting regular sex giggled in the back. Slouched low in the seat, they consoled each other on their crappy luck and nonexistent bedroom activities. Abby had lost her husband to a roadside bomb in Afghanistan the year before. Which reminded Carrie how lucky Noah was to have survived that war. And that her brother had been on a sub out of harm’s way.

  “Kyle was good, you know? I mean. Well. Most of the time.” In a stage whisper, she said, “I had to fake it now and then, but who hasn’t?”

  “Amen, sister.” They attempted a high five, but missed. “Patch was selfish. If you know what I mean.”

  “Oh, that’s the worst.” After two tries, Abby sat up. “What is wrong with men? We’re attractive, smart, sexually adventurous women.” Carrie wasn’t so sure about that last part, but she didn’t interrupt. “We’re young. We’ve still got plenty of good years in us.”

  “Yes, we do,” Carrie agreed, saluting with her glass. “Preach it, girlfriend.”

  “What are we preaching?” Haleigh asked, reaching into the fridge for a soda.

  “That men should be trying to have sex with us.”

  “Well, okay then.” Haleigh turned toward Lorelei and Snow. “Abbs is talking sex. Y’all need to get up here.”

  “On our way.” Lorelei dragged Snow the length of the limo, and they both plopped down on the seat across from the fridge. “We’re here. Continue.”

  “Carrie and I need to find guys to have sex with,” Abby said.

  “Wait,” Carrie said, sitting up straight, “I didn’t—”

  “Are we talking boyfriend material or a one-night stand?” Lorelei asked, as if they were hashing out a fast-food order. “Because we need to tell Cooper whether to head for Brubaker’s or hit the interstate toward Silverado.”

  She’d heard of the dance hall in Goodlettsville, but Carrie had never been.

  “We’re talking serious drought here,” Abby said before finishing her drink. “One night isn’t going to be nearly enough.”

  “Brubaker’s it is.” Lorelei knocked on the divider between them and their driver. When the window lowered, she said, “Take us to Brubaker’s, Coop. We have women on a mission back here.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and the window rose back into place.

  “I’m not on a mission,” Carrie said, letting Haleigh refill her glass. “I don’t want to pick up a guy at a bar.”

  “So dance and have a little fun,” Snow said. “And let a guy pick you up.”

  “But I don’t need to be picked up,” she argued.

  “Did you finally put batteries in that Rabbit I bought you?” Lorelei asked. “It’s about damn time.”

  Carrie rolled her eyes.

  “I thought about buying my mom one of those,” Haleigh mumbled. “She’d freak out, but I bet her mood would improve within a week.”

  And now she was imagining Meredith with a sex toy and might never be able to look the woman in the eye again.

  “What kind of rabbit are you guys talking about?” asked Abby.

  Haleigh patted her best friend on the knee. “I’ll explain later, hon.”

  “You still need to find a man,” Lorelei said.

  “No I don’t,” Carrie argued.

  “Why not? If you’d just—”

  Frustrated with the conversation, Carrie snapped, “I don’t need to find a man because I have Noah.”

  All eyes locked on Carrie as Abby said, “Does she mean she named a sex toy Noah?”

  “You’re screwing your neighbor?” Lorelei asked.

  “Go, Carrie,” Haleigh cheered.

  Feeling the heat spread up her neck, Carrie wished the words back into her mouth. This was the champagne’s fault. Damn those tasty bubbles.

  “I haven’t had sex with Noah,” she explained. “I mean, I don’t think last night counts as having sex.”

  “What happened last night?” Snow asked.

  Abby piped up before Carrie could answer. “You’re worse off than me if you don’t even know what qualifies as sex.”

  Great. Maybe she could throw herself out of the car. A little road burn would be less humiliating than this conversation.

  “Well?” Haleigh said. “You can’t leave us hanging. What happened?”

  Before replying, Carrie drank her champagne like a shot and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. The bubbles went straight to her head, which was already floating.

  “We’ve been spending the evenings after Molly goes to sleep talking on my porch.”

  “Talking?” Haleigh said.

  “It starts out as talking. And then kissing . . .”

  “You are the slowest storyteller ever,” Lorelei whined.

  Cutting to the point, Carrie blurted, “We haven’t had sex because neither one of us is prepared.”

  The car went silent.

  “Either I’m really drunk or she’s talking in riddles,” Abby said.

  Lorelei shushed her. “Prepared how?”

  Mortified, Carrie whispered, “Condoms.”

  “That’s the only thing keeping you from jumping this man’s bones?”

  “I still want to know what didn’t qualify as sex,” Haleigh said.

  Carrie squirmed in her seat. “Since we weren’t . . . prepared,” she said, “Noah took care of me.”

  “He took care of . . .” Abby started.

  “He gave her an orgasm, Abbs,” Haleigh clarified.

  “Oh,” she answered. “I miss those.”

  Snow burst out laughing as Lorelei pounded on the glass divider again. “Cooper, we have a change of plans!”

  Cooper cleared his throat as the window dropped. “Where to.”

  “Puckett’s Pharmacy.”

  “Good idea,” he replied as the window shot back up.

  Haleigh glanced at Lorelei. “That divider thing is soundproof, right?”

  “Of course.” Tipping the bottle in her hand, the bride poured the last of its contents into her glass. “Looks like we need another bottle. Carrie is getting laid tonight, and that deserves a toast.”

  “Wait. What?” Carrie said as Abby popped the cork on bottle number three.

  “If I’m the only one going home alone,” the other widow said, “I might as well keep drinking.”

  “Don’t give up hope yet,” Lorelei said. “We’ll head to the bar after dropping off Carrie.”

  What the heck? “You’re kicking me out of the party?” she said.

  Lorelei passed the champagne from Abby to Snow. “We’re taking you home to have your own party. Armed with a full box of condoms.”

  It might have been the bubbly talking, but Carrie liked the sound of that.

  “What am I supposed to do? Knock on his door and say, ‘We’re having sex’?”

  “Or just jump him,” Snow said. “He’ll get the message.”

  “I don’t know if I can do that,” she said, sitting back and sipping her drink. “What if he doesn’t want to?”

  Four women exchanged telling looks and in unison said, “He’ll want to.”

  When the limo stopped in front of Puckett’s Pharmacy, Carrie was too drunk to notice they’d stopped moving. Which was good, because she never could have endured the scene inside the store when her fellow partiers debated Noah’s size—loudly and with hand gestures—if she’d been sober.

  Noah took a break from working in the barn to grab a bite to eat. Per the usual, the fridge offered little, and the cupboards were nearly bare. He almost wished Kyra had left him the damn pie. Althea made a mean pecan pie. He settled for a nearly empty bag of chips, standing with his back to the sink to eat them. Three handfuls in, he heard loud music in the distance. Leaving the bag on the counter, he stomped to the front door, expecting to find a carload of teenagers disturbing his peace.

  He had not expected to see a black SUV limo with a woman sticking out of the top, red feathers flapping around her neck and arms wide in the air. “We come prepared!” she yelled, which made no sense at all.

  The limo par
ked behind his truck, kicking on the motion floodlight on the corner of the house. As soon as the guy stepped out of the car, Noah recognized the driver as the one in the picture with Molly on his shoulders. Cooper opened one of the back doors, and Carrie all but fell into the dirt. Thankfully, the big guy caught her, lifted her onto her feet, and held on until she appeared steady enough to walk.

  Covering his mouth to hide the smirk, Noah leaned against a porch post and watched her careen in his general direction. Three more women popped up through the sunroof, all sporting colorful feathers and cheering his drunk little neighbor onward.

  “Go get him, girlfriend!”

  “You’ve got this, Carrie!”

  “You guys are embarrassing her.”

  “Good gravy, where can I find one of those?”

  Noah took the last as a compliment, though he had no idea which lady to thank. When Carrie reached the bottom step, she grabbed the railing to steady herself, clinging tightly to a brown paper bag in her other hand. After a couple of deep breaths, she gave the limo crew a thumbs-up and then did the last thing he expected.

  Charging up the steps, she flung herself at him, wrapping her legs around his waist at the same time her mouth closed over his. Two seconds after the attack, Noah recovered from the shock and crushed her to him. The cheering continued as the limo backed out of the drive, but he was too busy tasting the sweet champagne on her lips to notice.

  Still clinging to his neck, Carrie broke the kiss, her breath coming in quick pants and her eyes darkened to a cobalt blue. “I’m prepared this time. I don’t want to wait until tomorrow, Noah. Let’s have sex. Please.”

  The trepidation in her voice nearly undid him. At a loss for words, he let his actions do the talking.

  Pressing her back to the post, Noah cradled her ass while his tongue tangled with hers. He ground against her core, dragging a moan from deep in her chest.

  “I need you, Noah,” she begged. “I need you so bad.”

  Aroused to the point of pain, Noah carried her into the house, kicking the door shut behind him. They tasted and nibbled all the way up the stairs, stopping at the top, where he pressed her to the wall and tasted the heat at the base of her neck. He licked his way to her ear and bit the lobe.