by Cora Seton
“Come on, Sanders,” Logan said to Jack. “You know you’ve been dying for a chance to join in. Starting tomorrow it’ll be just you and me left here. No one will have to know.”
Jack’s curses made Hunter join Logan’s laughter.
“All joking aside.” Logan became serious. “You’d better get going, Powell. Don’t miss your flight. You’re supposed to be there for Connor and Sadie’s wedding. Say hi to Brian and Connor for me when you get there.”
“Will do. And don’t worry; I’ll get the job done.”
Brian had married the General’s oldest daughter, Cass, a month and a half ago. Connor was marrying his second youngest—Sadie—today.
“Classic Powell. Look at him—he’s not nervous at all. He figures Jo will fall hook, line and sinker the moment she lays eyes on him,” Logan said to Jack.
Hunter didn’t answer that. It wasn’t true, for one thing. He had nothing in common with Jo. He’d searched her photograph a thousand times for any clues as to what kind of woman she was—and why the General had paired him with her. He could only be grateful none of the men in their group knew why the Navy was quietly spiriting him out of its ranks. They’d hate him if they did. Military men could forgive a lot of things.
Not desertion.
Jo wouldn’t be able to forgive him, either. She was a general’s daughter, after all.
“A mismatch if I’ve ever seen one.” Jack echoed his thoughts.
“Opposites attract,” Logan said, but he didn’t sound too sure about that, and Hunter knew why. Hunter was more than a decade older than Jo; a battle hardened warrior to her fresh-faced country girl. He was as worried as the others that the General had made a mistake.
“Get her to the altar, Powell,” Jack said. “A lot is riding on it.”
More than they knew. His own self-worth was riding on it. When you joined a Navy SEAL team, you made a promise to the men you served with. A promise you’d give everything to the job at hand—to them. A promise you’d always be there.
He’d let everyone down. He’d done what he’d done out of desperation, of course, making a devil’s bargain to fulfill one promise while breaking another. Still, he couldn’t help feeling a better man would have found a way to keep all his promises without breaking any.
All he could do was grasp this chance the General had offered him to leave the Navy in good standing. It wouldn’t erase what he’d done, but it would wipe the slate clean as far as his record was concerned. And it would give him the chance to start a new life—a good life. Better than he deserved, probably. Maybe he could finally leave the past in the past.
He knew what Jack meant, though. The General had made it clear: either they all married, or no one inherited Two Willows. Hunter wanted that ranch as much as the rest of them, and he owed it to his wife-to-be as much as anyone else to make it happen. But he wanted his record cleared, too. He’d committed his crime for the best of reasons, but still the charge struck too close to home.
If willingness counted, he’d be free and clear already, but he had to make Jo Reed love him, and he didn’t know if that was possible. He was too old. He’d seen too much.
She was too young. Too new to life.
Uneasiness washed over him again as he nodded first to Jack and then to Logan. “See you soon.”
Jack pinned him with a sharp look. “You’re going to have to dig in. Make Two Willows your home. Find the places you and Jo overlap. Make it clear you intend to stay. If you aren’t sure all the way about that, she’ll know—and she won’t buy in to the idea of marrying you.”
Hunter was taken aback. What did Jack know about him to make him word his message like that? Make it clear he intended to stay?
“What Jack’s trying to say is you can’t be a loner if you want a wife,” Logan told him. “Get in touch with your cuddly side, Powell.”
His cuddly side.
He didn’t think he had one of those.
Didn’t think that was what Jack meant at all, either. The soldier held his gaze. “Get to Montana. And stay there,” Jack said, confirming Hunter’s suspicions.
Hunter gave him an ironic salute and headed back out the door. He’d go to Montana, and he’d dig in deep. That didn’t mean Jo would fall in love with him, though.
When his phone buzzed in his pocket, he pulled it out, noted the caller and hesitated. This wasn’t a call he wanted to take. Sighing, he accepted it and lifted the phone to his ear.
“Powell here.”
“Hunter. What a greeting.”
“Mrs. Frank.”
Her swiftly indrawn breath told him how much his formality hurt. “You used to call me Sue-Ann.”
Every word she said brought back memories of his childhood. The Franks had been his salvation back then. His ticket to belonging in the tiny Alabama town where he grew up. His mother had lived in Finley almost all her life, but that hadn’t helped when it came to fitting in. Gwen was pretty, and had dated the quarterback in high school, although when she talked about those days, which wasn’t often, she did so with impatience in her voice. There’d been a falling out, that was clear. Over the years Hunter had got the feeling the quarterback had proposed to his mother, and she’d turned him down. The quarterback left town. Gwen got an associate’s degree as a court stenographer. She moved two towns away, worked at the county courthouse—and became pregnant, much to everyone’s surprise.
His mother had refused to name the father. Had refused to give up her baby, either. In the end, she’d moved back into her childhood home, transferred to Finley’s court, and Hunter’s grandparents helped with child care until they died in a boating accident when he was eleven. In her spare time, Gwen wrote poetry, and had even published a small volume of verse that was well received. Poetry didn’t put food on the table, though, she always said. She worked full time all his life.
Over the years, his mother had kept to herself outside work and her monthly trip to Georgia to visit his elderly great-aunt Minnie. Hunter had realized early on that their family wasn’t like the others in the community. They didn’t attend church. Gwen didn’t volunteer at the school or in Scouts or sports. There were whispered conversations between grown-ups that hushed sometimes when Hunter came near. His childhood could easily have been a nightmare—if it weren’t for Marlon Frank and his family.
Hunter’s home sat on the edge of Heartfelt Acres, and once he became friends with Marlon, the Franks had adopted him like he was one of their own. Over the years, he spent far more time around Sue-Ann’s dinner table than at the one in his own small house nearby. He loved his mother, and he knew she loved him, even if she wasn’t a demonstrative woman, but she hadn’t seemed aware of how hard things could be for a child like him. Or how lonely it was to grow up the only child of a mother who kept her thoughts so shuttered all the time.
When Gwen took her monthly trips to Georgia, Sue-Ann stepped into her shoes as his second mother—a doting, happy, traditional Southern woman who kept so busy with her home and family she never thought of taking on a career. The few times Sue-Ann had travelled away from home, she’d taken everyone with her—including him. Looking back, he was sure his mother had breathed easier knowing someone was watching over him. Her long hours at work left her little energy to parent him.
His relationship to the Franks had continued into adulthood. When he visited Alabama, he still spent as much time at Heartfelt Acres as he did at home. Probably more. Sue-Ann had kept mothering him all these years, texting and calling him as often as she did her own son.
He owed Sue-Ann respect—and love.
But could she respect him now? She thought he’d committed the worst of crimes, and he couldn’t explain his actions without letting Marlon down. He refused to do that—not after everything Marlon had given up for him. Still, it was hard to know she must think badly of him. How many times had Sue-Ann told him he didn’t have to take on any of his parents’ traits he didn’t want to? “You are your own person, Hunter Powell,” she’d said
over and over again. “You get to choose how you’ll act and what you’ll do.”
He was trying his best to follow her dictates, but it wouldn’t look that way to anyone else. According to his record, he was as bad as his father when it came to sticking around.
The silence on the phone drew out until Sue-Ann broke it. “Hunter, I don’t know what happened to you, but I do know that what a man sees in the service can change him—can give him terrible demons to battle. And no one blames you for what you did.”
He choked back the words that crowded his throat; he hadn’t done anything—
But that wasn’t right. He’d made a decision. He’d let down his team. He had to own up to that, even if he’d had the best of reasons. He had to keep those reasons quiet, too. Even if it meant enduring Sue-Ann’s censure. He’d promised Marlon.
“Hunter, we all love you. You can make this right. I know you can. You’ve given the Navy sixteen solid years of service, and maybe they’ll make you pay for a while, but you can come back from this—”
“I’ve got to go,” he made himself say. “Got a plane to catch.”
“A plane? Where are you—?”
He cut the call. He’d thought he could bear the repercussions of his decision, but this was too hard. He’d never wanted to disappoint Sue-Ann Frank. Not after all she’d done for him. In her eyes it must seem like he’d deliberately ignored all the advice she’d ever given him.
He hadn’t, though.
He’d followed it to a T. And that’s what had gotten him into this mess.
Jo Reed had just deposited a stack of dirty dishes on the long plank table in the kitchen at Two Willows when her sister, Lena, joined her. Both of them were dressed in the same spring-green bridesmaid dresses they’d worn to Cass’s wedding. Now they were wearing them for Sadie’s. Jo felt ridiculous in the girly outfit, and she figured Lena felt even worse. Lena had always been the tomboy of the family, after all.
“Brian’s being as skittish as a newborn colt. What’s with that man?” Lena asked. “He and Cass have only been back home a couple of days—he can’t be bored already.”
Jo knew why Lena was snappish. With Brian home, and Connor O’Riley newly married to Sadie, two men would now live permanently on the ranch. And that was two men too many as far as Lena was concerned.
“I haven’t noticed,” Jo said. She bent down to pet Tabitha, her white cat who liked to pretend to be standoffish but really loved a good cuddle.
Lena leaned against the table and watched Jo stand up again, rinse her hands and begin to scrape the plates. Both of them should have been out entertaining Sadie and Connor’s wedding guests, but while Jo was thrilled for the happiness Sadie had found with Connor, she found it hard to keep her spirits up when she thought about recent events. Her counselor had cautioned her the wedding could be difficult. Only a few weeks ago, Grant Kimball had taken her hostage in this very kitchen—
And she’d stabbed him in the back with a carving knife.
No sign of that struggle remained. There was nothing to show that she’d killed a man—first stabbing him here, then shooting him with his own pistol out in the carriage house where he’d cornered them again.
But she’d done it.
Ended a man’s life—with Connor’s help.
Jo fought to slow her heartbeat, which still raced from time to time when she remembered that day. Now here she was cleaning up from a wedding as if nothing had happened at all.
The weird thing was, after her initial shock and grief, she’d settled down far more quickly than she’d thought she would. She kept running through what had happened—what Grant had done and how she’d reacted. Each time she did, she came to the same conclusion: she’d done exactly the right thing.
If she hadn’t killed Grant, she’d be dead right now. Her sisters, too.
It was that simple.
She’d read Grant’s intentions that day the way she read those of the animals she tended around the ranch. When he’d grabbed her, she’d felt rage, fear and a lust for revenge that nothing could slake. She’d always been good at sensing the impulses of living things—trouble was, she didn’t always trust her gut. Didn’t always follow it. Got tangled up when the words people said didn’t match their actions. She had a tendency to believe words too much. To want to believe them.
That’s where she’d gone wrong with Grant. And Sean Pittston, too.
It still made her angry she’d fallen for Sean, when every instinct she’d had shot off warning rockets.
She’d sensed pain in him when they’d met at the Dancing Boot; some unhealed wound from long ago, and Jo had ached to help him, the way she helped her animals when they got sick or hurt. That impulse kept her with him far too long. For a month or two, she’d had a boyfriend to bring along to her nights out at the Boot. That had felt good.
But ignoring her instincts about his dangerous side had felt bad.
And the results had been disastrous.
“What do you mean by skittish?” she made herself ask Lena. She knew her sisters worried about her and she didn’t want them to. They would be shocked to know she’d weighed the pros and cons and decided taking the man’s life was worth it if she saved so many others.
They’d expected her to fall apart after it was over, and they kept tiptoeing around her like she might do just that at any moment. Jo didn’t think she was going to fall apart. Instead, she was reevaluating her life. And her ideas about men.
Twice she’d stopped listening to her gut in order to keep a man’s interest. Twice she’d paid much too high a price for her lapse in judgment. If she was so prone to errors around men, maybe it was time to stop being around them—
At all.
That meant no more boyfriends. Not now, not ever. She’d focus on the ranch. On helping with the cattle, tending the horses and other animals, breeding her dogs. Animals didn’t pretend. They didn’t say one thing and mean another. They didn’t let you down.
“Brian keeps looking at his phone,” Lena said, drawing her out of her thoughts. “He’s jumpy as anything. When one of the Mathesons bumped into him earlier, he about leaped out of his skin.”
“That doesn’t sound like Brian at all.” Jo stopped scraping. “Do you think he’s afraid we’ll be attacked again?” She didn’t want to think about that.
Lena’s expression shifted. “Of course not. We’re perfectly safe now.” But she crossed to the window to look out, as if to verify that.
“Bullshit.”
Lena turned to her. “Since when do you talk like that?”
Jo bristled. She wasn’t a child—and Lena was in no position to judge her for the way she spoke. Especially not when she’d just told a blatant lie.
That was another thing that drove Jo crazy. People lied—constantly.
Animals didn’t.
“Since those drug dealers started messing with us. If Brian knows something, he’d better tell us,” she said to Lena.
“Exactly how I feel. I’m going to ply him with alcohol and see if I can make him talk.”
A smile tugged at Jo’s lips despite her bleak thoughts. She had a feeling it would take a lot of alcohol to get the man to divulge anything, and she doubted Cass would put up with Lena’s attempts. Cass would be staying sober because she was pregnant, although she wasn’t showing yet. Lena slipped out the back door, her long dress swishing.
Jo turned back to her work with a glance at the kitchen clock. Still far too early for the reception to end. Could she hide out in here until the guests finally left?
When a knock sounded at the front door, Jo groaned, rinsed her hands, dried them on a tea towel and went to answer it. People needed to go home, not keep arriving, she thought dispiritedly. That would give her the chance to go to bed and bury her head under her covers, like she did every night, to try to forget about her mistakes.
Never again, she promised herself for the hundredth time that day. She’d learned her lesson: animals were to be trusted. People weren’
t—especially men. She was done with them.
Forever.
From now on she meant to be independent. That meant no one got to boss her around anymore; not her sisters and not any man. She was never going to second guess herself again. She didn’t need entanglements, anyway. They just brought pain. She would stand on her own—live on her own.
Jo pulled the front door open, took in the stranger on the other side and sucked in a surprised breath. He was tall, muscular, with a sharp gaze that seemed to take in everything about her at once. He was dressed for the wedding in clean dark jeans, a crisp white shirt, a dark blazer and a black cowboy hat. He was handsome—oh, so handsome—but there was something haunted about him.
This was a man who’d seen war, she realized.
Which meant the General had sent him.
He reached out a hand, and she shook it automatically, immediately sensing conviction in him. Here was someone who believed in truth—and commitment. But there were other things at play within him. Sadness. Conflict. The pain that came from not being able to be true to one’s sense of what was right and wrong.
Jo’s heart squeezed in reaction to the hurt in the man, balanced by his need for honorable action. As always, she wanted to heal the wounds she sensed, but that was what got her into trouble every time. She wasn’t going to make that mistake again.
“Howdy.” His Southern drawl was thick as molasses, and his voice threaded through her, waking places she’d sworn to herself were asleep for good. “Name’s Hunter. Hunter Powell. You must be Jo.”
The longer they touched, the more his emotions threaded into her consciousness. His conviction in doing what was right emanated off him in waves of honest, true commitment, and the feel of it in a man was so new to Jo it was intoxicating.
“I’m not marrying you,” she blurted. Best to get it out there right now, before the heady mixture of Hunter’s emotions got the better of her. He still held her hand. Jo tried to tug it back, and he finally let go. The General had sent Brian, and Cass had married him. He’d sent Connor, and Sadie stood out back right now in her wedding dress, cutting her cake. There was no way—no way—she’d fall for this trap.