A SEAL’s Resolve

by Cora Seton

  That was gutsy—or crazy. Curtis wondered if he ought to be worried.

  “It was an honest mistake,” Raina said, but when Hope turned to look at the car, she winked at Curtis. “Thought you could use a hand.”

  “We’re the ones who need a hand.” Hope pointed to the car’s back bumper. It was crumpled, pressing into the left back tire.

  “Come to the bunkhouse, and we’ll get this sorted out,” Curtis said again. “We’ll pull out your car in the morning.” He figured two women—even if they were unhinged—couldn’t do much damage with a passel of Navy SEALs around. Besides, Raina might be little weird, but Hope seemed pretty normal to him.

  “I don’t think we should go anywhere with strangers,” Hope said to Raina.

  “They’re not strangers. I’ve watched every episode of Base Camp. I know these guys better than they know themselves. Come on, Hope, please? How often do you get to see where a television show is filmed? There’ll be film crews everywhere, so we’ll be perfectly safe, right?” She turned back to Curtis.

  “Unfortunately, almost the whole crew already packed it in and headed to town about an hour ago, before the roads got too bad, but you’ll still be safe with us. There are plenty of other women in camp.”

  Hope shivered, and Curtis resisted the urge to unzip his jacket, pull her in close and wrap the sides of the garment around her. They could warm each other up—

  Heck, he was getting ahead of himself. Although maybe he should, given his looming deadline.

  “What do you think, Hope?” he asked. Raina might talk a lot, but he knew Hope was the head of this operation. She was the one who’d make the decision.

  “Fine, we’ll come with you. But the minute the snow stops, we get back on the road.”

  She didn’t sound too pleased, but Curtis was already counting his lucky stars. So far he liked Hope, and he didn’t have any other prospects. Luckily, according to the weather report, the snow wasn’t going to stop for several days.

  Maybe that would be enough time to convince her to like him back.

  “Why are you being such a stick-in-the-mud?” Raina hissed ten minutes later when she and Hope climbed out of the truck and Curtis and Anders ushered them toward a long, low building they referred to as the bunkhouse. The men had transferred their luggage from their car into the truck bed and were lugging some of it along now. Hope had snatched her planner from the front seat and hugged it to her chest, trying to keep it dry.

  “Because I don’t know who these people are,” Hope hissed back. Trust Raina to get them into another crazy situation. She did it all the time, and she never worried for a moment about the consequences of her actions. Hope was the one who had to do that.

  Daisy bounded ahead of them, waiting impatiently at the front door until Curtis caught up and opened it. She slipped inside, and when Hope followed the others, she found herself in a large room filled with several men in jeans, boots and sweaters, and a woman unaccountably dressed in what looked like a Regency ballgown.

  Hope was still trying to get her bearings. She dimly remembered Raina nattering on about a reality television show she’d become obsessed with several months ago. Base Camp focused on sustainable practices, right? That’s what Raina had said. But whenever she talked about it, it seemed to Hope the show focused far more on the participants’ love lives than their desire to save the world.

  “I’ve been watching the show for months; I know all about these people,” Raina said. “That’s Greg.” She pointed to a no-nonsense-looking man with a shock of black hair coming to greet them. “He helps Jericho and the others with the solar system and things like that. That’s Walker Norton and Avery Lightfoot over there.” She pointed to a tall Native American man and the petite, strangely dressed woman. “They’re in charge of the bison herd. Anders works with them. You already know Curtis.” She and Hope had already attracted everyone’s attention, and people were gathering around them.

  Hope was still stuck on bison herd. There were bison here?

  “Watching people on TV isn’t the same as knowing them,” Hope muttered, refusing to betray her curiosity to Raina. “They’re actors playing parts. Don’t expect them to act like their characters.”

  “It’s a reality TV show.” Raina rolled her eyes. “I swear, you never listen to me. Look—we’re being filmed right now.”

  Sure enough, a young man was scrambling to lift a video camera to his shoulder. Hope resisted the urge to turn around and head back out of the building.

  “Found these two in a ditch at the end of our lane,” Anders announced cheerfully to the others in the bunkhouse. “Thought we’d better take them in for the night.”

  “You poor things!” Avery bustled over. “Are you cold? Hungry?” Her dark blue gown was striking with its high waist and low neckline. Avery was a redhead with an engaging smile, and Hope bet she was one of Raina’s favorite characters.

  “I’m hungry,” Raina said, at the same time Hope said, “We’re fine.”

  “We’re not fine,” Raina corrected her. “We just went off the road in a snowstorm. We’re going to be late to my wedding. We’re thoroughly devastated,” she told Avery cheerfully. “We’ll definitely need some hot chocolate to restore us.”

  “Hot chocolate sounds like a great idea. Get your wet things off and come with me to the kitchen.” Avery led the way, her dress swishing behind her, and Raina followed, stripping off her coat. With a glance at Curtis and Anders, Hope tagged along, shrugging out of her coat, too. She didn’t know what else to do. Curtis took their outer garments, hung them up near the door and came after them.

  To her consternation, everyone else filed into the kitchen, too, including the young cameraman, leaving the relatively small space crowded. Hope tried to keep out of the way, but Curtis leaned against the counter next to her. His large frame was hard to ignore, as was the smile that curved his mouth when she glanced in his direction. He had short, light brown hair, hazel eyes and well-formed features. She had to admit he was handsome. He seemed inclined to be friendly, too. If they’d met at a bar or through a mutual friend, Hope would have been tempted to get to know him—

  Even if she’d promised herself no distractions until after she got her job at Yellowstone.

  Besides, she and Raina would be back on the road tonight—tomorrow at the latest. No sense being attracted to a man she’d never see again.

  That didn’t mean she couldn’t be polite.

  “Why is Avery wearing such a fancy dress?” Hope asked Curtis as Raina peppered Avery with questions, getting in the woman’s way at every turn as Avery tried to make the hot chocolate.

  “You’ve really never seen the show?” Curtis cocked his head, studying her.

  “No. Sorry,” she added. “Not much of a TV person.”

  “I’m not either. Believe me, none of us came here to be on television. It just sort of happened. Avery and the other women here dress like that because… well, it’s a long story. Maybe you’d better ask her.”

  Hope stifled a sigh. That was cryptic. Raina looked like she was having a fabulous time, and Avery was chatting with her like they’d known each other forever, but Raina made friends with everyone she met. Hope wasn’t nearly as good at it.

  Questions. That’s what Raina always said when Hope asked how she did it. “Ask people questions. They love to talk about themselves.”

  She slid a glance Curtis’s way and found him watching her. Feeling herself flushing, she tried again. “What is this place—a ranch of some kind?”

  Curtis grinned. “Yes, it’s a ranch. We have quite a large herd of bison here. We also grow our own food, produce our own energy, and the women run a Regency-themed bed-and-breakfast.”

  “Which explains the dress.” That wasn’t so hard. She wondered why he’d been so cagey before. She was being cagey, too, though. Everything he’d just listed interested her. Suddenly she had a million questions. Bison? Green energy? A Regency bed-and-breakfast? How did this group manage to star
t such an interesting community?

  “There’s a lot more to it than that, but yes, that’s part of it.” He edged nearer, and Hope’s heart gave a little squeeze. He was at ease in his skin and obviously comfortable with his surroundings—and with the crowd pressed together in the kitchen. Hope supposed that if you were being filmed for half a year, you got used to being under a microscope. She’d always been a private person herself. “My job is to build tiny houses.”

  She blinked. “Tiny houses?”

  “That’s right. Want to see one?”

  She did want to see one but was worried about leaving her friend alone with the rest of these people. Raina had been listening, though.

  “Go on, take a look.” She turned to Curtis. “That’s the one kind of show Hope will watch—the ones where people sell all their stuff and live in tiny little shacks in other people’s backyards.”

  “They’re not shacks—” Hope protested.

  Raina talked over her. “I’d like to see a tiny house, too, before we go, but I’ll stay and help Avery for now.”

  “Are you sure?” Hope asked. “We can wait.”

  “No, you can’t. Get going.” Raina waved her off.

  “You need to call Ben and tell him we’ve been delayed,” Hope reminded her.

  “In a minute.”

  The cameraman made as if to follow them, but Raina grabbed his arm. “You need to stay here and film my call to Ben—my wedding is in less than three days!”

  “Come on.” Curtis took Hope’s hand. “We have to go back outside, but it isn’t far.”

  It was too late to say no, and besides, Hope’s curiosity had gotten the better of her. Raina was right; she’d always been fascinated by tiny houses. She thought the craftsmanship that went into making a small home livable was amazing. She’d tried her hand at woodworking before but found she didn’t have the patience for it, so she had a lot of respect for people who did.

  Outside, the wind had picked up and the snow blew in flurries that made it difficult to see. Curtis stopped and peered into the sky before shaking his head. “All that plowing Anders and I did today isn’t going to make a bit of difference the way this stuff is coming down.”

  “Raina and I really need to leave first thing in the morning.”

  Curtis began to walk again, his fingers still curled around hers. “We’ll keep the lane clear, but you might have to wait a bit tomorrow for the plows to go by and clear the road out to the highway. They’ll come past by mid-afternoon at the latest.”

  That wasn’t good enough. Hope slipped a little, and Curtis braced her. Despite herself, she couldn’t help appreciating his solid strength. “We have to leave well before that.”

  “What’s the rush?”

  “Raina is getting married on Sunday, and there’s a lot to do before then. If she leaves Ben hanging at the altar, he’ll kill me!”

  She braced herself for Curtis’s reaction. He’d probably say she was being overdramatic. He’d talk about safety. Point out that other wedding guests would have trouble reaching Bozeman, too.

  Instead his pace slowed. “Where is the wedding taking place?”

  “Bozeman. It’s just a couple of hours from here, right?”

  “Usually. Not in weather like this, though.” Curtis plodded on through the deepening snow, and Hope walked with him, shivering when a gust of wind pelted her with snowflakes. He stopped in front of a wooden door leading into a house that seemed to emerge from the side of the hill.

  “This is one of the tiny houses?” For a moment Hope forgot all about the wedding. The house was… magical.

  Breathtaking even.

  When she looked up, she found Curtis watching her again, his expression inscrutable.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Just when I stopped believing, here you are,” he said softly.

  Hope didn’t know what to make of that, but she shivered again, more in awareness of the enigmatic man standing with her in the snow than from the cold.

  “What… what does that mean?” she finally asked when the silence drew out too long.

  “What it means is that I’ll get your friend to the altar on time,” he said. “I promise.”

  Chapter Two

  ‡

  Curtis opened the door to the tiny house, reached inside to flick on the porch light and turned to find Hope pulling a planner out of her purse. It was a small, thick novel-size one covered in printed fabric, animals dotting a spring-green background. Curtis leaned closer. Were those… bison?

  They couldn’t be.

  Before he could look again, Hope flipped it open to where a matching green ribbon marked a page filled top to bottom with a handwritten, but precise, to-do list. She moved into the entryway to take advantage of the light.

  “Even if we get to Bozeman tomorrow, we’re going to be hopelessly behind on everything. We’ll have to leave well before dawn.”

  “We’ll get there,” Curtis said again—and meant it, even if Hope’s bison-dotted planner had thrown him momentarily for a loop. He definitely needed to get to know this woman better. They had several days to Raina’s wedding, anyway. He’d pop them in a truck and drive them there tomorrow. It would be slow going, but they’d get through.

  He’d use the time it took to get them to Bozeman to his advantage. He was sure he could wrangle an invitation to the wedding from Raina, which would give him more time to chat with Hope. He’d find a local motel to stay at and make himself useful until the ceremony on Sunday. At the wedding reception, he’d dance with Hope. Weddings were romantic. Maybe she’d get carried away—

  Or was that wishful thinking? He couldn’t help but remember how things with Michele had turned out.

  It’s too late for romance, he reminded himself as they stepped inside. Too late for anything like love. You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do.

  Under different circumstances he would have admitted he thought he could fall in love with a woman like Hope. At the very least, she was his type. As she passed him in the small space, close enough for him to catch the citrusy scent of her shampoo, Curtis’s body responded with interest, and he diligently noted the hint of chemistry between them. That part would work, he had no doubt. Chemistry didn’t get it done where marriage was concerned, though. He wanted more than that—

  Hope let out an exclamation of pleasure when she took in the house’s hardwood floors, white-washed walls and hand-carved accents.

  “Curtis, it’s wonderful. Whoever gets to live here is going to have a magical life.”

  Curtis forgot everything else when she touched his arm in her enthusiasm. Her eyes shone as she went over every little detail, and despite himself Curtis found himself moving closer.

  “I sure hope so.” So practical Hope wasn’t all practical.

  He was glad to know that. Glad to know, too, that she appreciated the work he’d done on this house. Clay had designed it, and helped to build it, too, but Curtis had put a lot of extra work into the home that was meant to be his. When Hope stroked a hand over the mantel of the fireplace, his skin tingled as if she’d touched him. Michele had eyed the place like it might be a jail cell. “It’s so small” was all she’d said. At least he understood her reaction now.

  Hope looked at her planner again, and the muscles at the back of his neck tightened. Who was she really? What was important to this woman?

  “I need to make sure Raina calls Ben,” she said apologetically. “We’re supposed to be in Bozeman tonight, go over the plan for tomorrow, unpack and see if anything needs to be ironed, and—”

  “Let me see that.” Curtis, inspired, took the planner from her hands.

  “Hey, give that back.” Hope reached for it, but Curtis turned away from her. Beside each “to-do” was a time for the task to be performed and a perfectly drawn tiny square box to be filled in when she was done.

  Curtis bent closer. She had an item for everything. Get up. Bathroom. Shower. Dry hair. Makeup. Some of the to-dos were in one-minut
e increments, for heaven’s sake. Reason warred with curiosity in his mind, but curiosity won out. He had no choice but to pursue the possibility Hope represented. There simply wasn’t time to find someone else.

  Besides, he wanted to get to know her better. His body was responding to Hope’s proximity in a way it never had to Michele.

  “I said, give that back.” Hope’s voice slid up a notch.

  “Hold on,” Curtis said. Hell, this was why she was so uptight. She’d booked herself solid without a minute to spare, let alone an unexpected night-long stay at Base Camp.

  “What are you doing?” she cried when he pulled the pen from its loop.

  “I’m fixing your problem.” He evaded her outreached hands and moved to brace the planner on the galley-style kitchen counter. Hope shrieked when he crossed out the list for the day and wrote in big block letters, “Check out bison herd with Curtis Lloyd.” He checked the time on his phone and added, eight-seventeen. “Whoops, we’re going to be late if we don’t get down to the south pasture.” He let her rip the book from his hands, and stifled a smile when she gazed at the page in horror.

  “You crossed out my list!”

  “I made a better one. Come on, let’s go see those bison. If you’re good, I’ll let you fill in the little box when you’re done.”

  Fine. She had a problem. A planner problem. An addiction to order that always drove less-organized humans who crossed her path to moan and tease and complain.

  But no one—no one—had ever defaced her planner the way Curtis just had.

  Hope was already plotting revenge.

  No matter that Curtis was easily the most handsome man she’d ever met. Or that his mischievous smile had twisted her innards into a tangled mess of desire, the likes of which she hadn’t felt since… since… well, ever.

  Or that he was already leading her back out the door toward the bison herd that had consumed her with curiosity since she’d heard about its existence.

  Any man—any person, she corrected herself; she didn’t care that Curtis was a man, because she wasn’t interested in men. Or she was, but not now—who didn’t understand what kind of a sacrilege it was to write in another person’s planner, let alone cross out her list!—was so far beyond the pale of good manners they might as well be a goat.