The Marine's Road Home

by Brenda Harlen

  For the past two years, he’d focused his efforts on putting the past behind him and moving on with his life. He wasn’t trying to forget—he didn’t ever want to forget—but he knew that if he couldn’t slay his demons, he had to find a way to coexist with them.

  “You can’t live like a hermit forever,” Luke had said, when he visited Haven a few weeks back.

  “No one lives forever,” Jake had pointed out.

  He’d thought the response might make his brother crack a smile. Instead, the furrow between Luke’s brows had only deepened, and he’d spent the next hour trying to get Jake to open up about his emotions, as if talking—especially to a man who couldn’t possibly understand feelings of inadequacy and failure—was going to make anything better.

  But Jake did promise that he’d make an effort to get out of the house more, to engage in social interaction and meet people. Which was how he’d ended up at Diggers’ Bar & Grill that first Wednesday night in early May.

  It had been a test, and though he wasn’t entirely sure when he left the bar again whether he’d passed or failed, he’d at least had the satisfaction of knowing that he’d completed it. The next week, it was a little bit easier. And the week after that, easier still.

  By the fifth week, he was thinking that he might be ready for a bigger challenge—and when he left the community center, he’d intended to head straight home. Yet for some inexplicable reason, he found himself driving toward Diggers’ instead.

  Or maybe the reason wasn’t so inexplicable.

  Maybe the reason was as simple—and complicated—as the incredibly appealing woman who worked behind the bar.

  Her name was Skylar Gilmore, but most of the regulars referred to her simply as Sky. She had long dark hair that she usually wore tied back in a loose ponytail and eyes that were a unique mix of gray and blue, not unlike a stormy sky, outlined by a sweep of ridiculously long lashes. Her brows were delicately arched, her cheekbones high and sharp and her mouth looked as if it was meant to be kissed.

  The unwelcome observation made him scowl.

  She was about average height, but there was absolutely nothing average about her curves, shown to advantage by the scoop-necked white T-shirt that hugged the swell of her breasts and the slim-fitting black jeans that molded to her sweetly rounded bottom and long, shapely legs.

  The first time he saw her, he’d felt a stir of something low in his belly. It wasn’t a familiar or comfortable feeling. But maybe that was because, for the better part of two years, he’d focused on tamping down his emotions so that he wouldn’t have to feel pain or loss or longing.

  So yes, it had taken Jake a moment to recognize the feeling as attraction, and less than that to dismiss it. Not only because it was uncomfortable and unfamiliar, but because he wasn’t foolish enough to let the attraction lead to anything else. He had no intention of making a move on the pretty bartender, because he knew no woman would want to deal with the issues that he was only beginning to deal with himself. And anyway, he had no wish to open himself up to rejection again.

  But Sky greeted him tonight, as she always did, with an easy smile.

  He didn’t smile back.

  He had no reason or desire to encourage her.

  “Pint of Sam Adams?” she prompted, when he remained silent, scowling at the taps.

  He only had to nod, and the beer would be poured and set in front of him. Instead, he heard himself say, “Actually, I think I’ll try a pint of Wild Horse tonight.”

  She moved the mug to the appropriate tap and tilted it under the spout. “Eleven whole words,” she remarked. “I think that’s a new record, John.”

  He lifted his gaze to hers, saw the teasing light in her eyes, and felt that uncomfortable tug again. “My name’s not John.”

  “But as you haven’t told me what it is, I can only guess,” she said.

  “So you decided on John...as in John Doe?” he surmised.

  She nodded. “And because it rolls off the tongue more easily than the-sullen-stranger-who-drinks-Sam-Adams, or, after tonight, the-sullen-stranger-who-usually-drinks-Sam-Adams-but-one-time-ordered-a-Wild-Horse.” She set the mug on a paper coaster in front of him. “And I think that’s a smile tugging at the lips of the sullen stranger.”

  “I was just thinking that next time I’ll order a Ruby Mountain Angel Creek Amber Ale,” Jake said.

  “Careful,” she cautioned, with a playful wink. “This exchange of words is starting to resemble an actual conversation.”

  He lifted the mug to his mouth and Sky moved down the bar to serve a couple of newcomers, leaving him alone with his beer.

  Which was what he wanted...and yet, when she came back again, he heard himself say, “My name’s Jake.”

  The sweet curve of her lips warmed something deep inside him. “You got a last name, Jake?”

  “Let’s not rush into anything,” he said. “We only just met.”

  She chuckled at that. “Maybe you’ll tell me next week?”

  “How do you know I’ll be here next week?”

  “Wild guess,” she said.

  “You really don’t know my last name?”

  “I didn’t know your first name until a few seconds ago,” she pointed out to him.

  “And I thought there weren’t any secrets in small towns.”

  “They are few and far between,” she said. “But, in the interest of full disclosure, I will tell you that I know you’re staying at Ross and Anna Ferguson’s house.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “The G in Circle G is for Gilmore,” she said, naming the ranch property that was situated behind his uncle’s land. “Which makes us neighbors.”

  He considered that as he tipped his glass to his lips and swallowed the last mouthful of beer.

  “Well, maybe I will see you next week, neighbor,” he decided aloud, as he took a ten-dollar bill out of his wallet and tucked it under the mug. “But right now, I need to get home. Molly’s waiting for me.”

  Chapter Two

  Who the heck was Molly?

  Of course, Jake didn’t stick around long enough for Sky to ask. And so the question continued to prod at the back of her mind throughout the following week.

  The context of his remark suggested that Molly was his girlfriend. Or maybe even his wife. A possibility that sat uneasily with Sky—not just because she’d flirted with the man, but because he’d flirted back!

  Or maybe she’d read too much into their brief conversation. Maybe the fact that his icy reserve had thawed enough to allow the exchange of a few words had been nothing more than that. In any event, she needed to get over her preoccupation with the man, because he was obviously involved with somebody else and she would never make a move on a guy who was taken.

  “You’re not going to get many tips with a scowl on your face,” a familiar voice remarked teasingly.

  Although Sky didn’t keep any portion of the tips that were collected at the bar, she deliberately smoothed her brow and curved her lips for her brother-in-law.

  “You’re out late, Sheriff,” she remarked.

  “My wife decided that she had to have a spicy chicken wrap and curly fries.”

  Sky glanced pointedly at the clock. “At nine o’clock on a Wednesday night?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve learned not to ask.”

  She keyed the order into the computer and sent it through to the kitchen. “Anything else?”

  He shook his head. “I had pizza while I was finishing up some paperwork at the office.”

  “How about a beer while you’re waiting?”

  Now he nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

  Sky poured a pint of Icky.

  “So...how far along is she?” she asked, setting the mug in front of him.

  Reid looked at her blankly. “Far along with what?”

/>   “Maybe I’m wrong,” she said. “But when was the last time Kate sent you out on an errand to satisfy her cravings?”

  The blank expression on his face slowly gave way to realization. “When she was pregnant with Tessa.”

  Sky nodded.

  “I don’t... I can’t...” he said, because apparently the possibility had inhibited his ability to form a complete sentence. “Do you really think...she might be pregnant?”

  “You’d know the chances of that better than me,” she said dryly.

  He nodded, acknowledging the point, and lifted the mug of beer to his lips. “We haven’t really been trying,” he confided now. “I mean, we’ve been talking about it, but—”

  “If you’ve only been talking, then I’m probably wrong,” Sky teased.

  Reid chuckled at that, though he still looked a little stunned by the possibility that his wife might be pregnant again. “As an only child, I often wished for a brother or sister,” he admitted. “And since Tessa’s first birthday, I’ve been dropping subtle hints about giving her a sibling.”

  “You only think your hints were subtle,” she told him.

  “And now... I can’t believe it...it’s finally going to happen.”

  “You might want to check with your wife before you start passing out cigars,” Sky cautioned her brother-in-law. “I was only speculating about the possibility, based on her dinner request.”

  But now that she’d put the idea in the sheriff’s head, he obviously wasn’t ready to let it go. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m sure you’re right. Katelyn’s dinner order was a clue—and I didn’t even pick up on it.”

  “Or maybe she’s just messing with your mind,” she suggested as an alternative.

  “She wouldn’t do that,” Reid said.

  “Instead of driving yourself crazy wondering, you could just ask her,” she said.

  He nodded. “I’ll do that.”

  “And if she is pregnant, please don’t tell her that I ruined the surprise.”

  “This conversation never happened,” he promised. “So long as you tell me why you keep looking at the clock.”

  “Just counting the hours until the end of my shift,” she said.

  Now Reid shook his head. “You’re waiting for someone.”

  “You should put your investigative talents to work in the sheriff’s office—except that those in law enforcement generally require actual evidence before arriving at conclusions.”

  “Lucky for you, being a smart-ass isn’t against the law.”

  She grinned. “And it’s a lot better than being a dumbass.”

  Reid swallowed another mouthful of beer. “I heard Ross Ferguson’s nephew has become something of a regular here,” he remarked casually.

  She wondered if he was changing the subject or if he’d somehow figured out that she was watching the clock in anticipation of Jake’s arrival. Either way, she kept her response vague. “Did you?”

  “Come on, Sky. Don’t make me drag you down to the station for an interrogation.”

  “The bar isn’t quite as sacred as the confessional, but there is an understanding between a bartender and her customers.”

  “Would you tell me if you’d had any trouble with him?”

  “If it was the kind I didn’t think I could handle on my own, yes,” she said. “But Jake hasn’t caused any problems at all.”

  Reid nodded then, accepting her response.

  “Is there any reason you would suspect he might cause trouble?” she asked.

  “No,” the sheriff admitted. “It’s just that he’s been in town for a few months now and no one seems to know much about the guy.”

  “I didn’t think that keeping to oneself was a crime in this town, either,” she remarked.

  “It’s not a crime, but it is an anomaly.” His cell phone vibrated against the bar and he turned it over to glance at the screen, his brow furrowing.

  “Problem?” she asked.

  “Another complaint about motorcycles driving recklessly on the highway,” he said. “It’s the third this month.”

  “You haven’t made any arrests?”

  “No one’s been able to get even a partial license plate number,” he confided. “And the descriptions of the alleged riders and their bikes have been anything but consistent.”

  “But you know who it is, don’t you?”

  “I have some suspicions, but without anything more than that—” He shrugged. “I just hope I get some proof before someone ends up seriously hurt...or worse.”

  Courtney brought a takeout bag from the kitchen and set it on the bar beside the sheriff. “Spicy chicken wrap and curly fries.”

  “Thanks.”

  The waitress smiled. “Give Katelyn my best.”

  “Will do,” he promised.

  As Reid pulled out his wallet, Sky glanced at the clock again.

  * * *

  9:53 p.m.

  “It’s Kelly,” Jake said, after he’d taken his usual seat at the bar.

  Sky wondered if he was picking up where their conversation had left off and, if so, she was a little confused because she’d been certain that “Molly” was the name he’d mentioned the previous week.

  “My last name,” he clarified, in response to her quizzical look.

  “Jake Kelly,” she said, trying it out. It was a strong name and suited the man. “So what can I get for you tonight, Jake Kelly?”

  “That Wild Horse I had last week wasn’t bad,” he said.

  “You should aspire to something a little better than not bad.” She tapped a finger against the green label with the image of reptile bones. “There’s a reason Icky is our most popular seller.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t get my head around the idea of drinking a beer that goes by that name.”

  “It’s named after Nevada’s official state fossil,” she told him.

  “It’s also the word my three-year-old niece uses to describe brussels sprouts.”

  “I share your niece’s aversion to brussels sprouts,” Sky said, tipping a glass beneath the tap to pour a sample. “And I promise you, Icky doesn’t taste anything like green vegetables.”

  “I actually don’t mind brussels sprouts,” he said, but he still looked skeptical about the beer as he studied the light copper-colored liquid.

  “Try it,” Sky urged.

  With a shrug, he lifted the glass to his lips.

  “Well?” she prompted.

  “Much better than the sprouts,” he decided.

  She selected a clean mug from the shelf and poured him a pint.

  He reached for the glass before she’d pulled away, and his fingertips brushed over the back of her hand. She knew the contact was inadvertent—even before he yanked his hand away again—but that knowledge did nothing to alleviate the tingles that danced up her arm. And when she glanced at him, she could tell that he’d felt something, too, and that he was none too pleased about the fact.

  Of course he wouldn’t be, because there was another woman—though she still didn’t know precisely what his relationship was with the mysterious Molly—waiting for him at home. And it really sucked for Sky that the first guy she’d experienced any chemistry with in a very long time was involved with somebody else.

  “We also have a decent menu,” Sky said, “if you ever wanted a bite along with your beer. Or if you wanted to bring Molly in to enjoy a meal.”

  “Molly?” he echoed blankly.

  She hesitated, wondering if she’d made a mistake in mentioning the woman’s name. Was he the type of guy who had a different girlfriend every week? Had he already moved on to someone new?

  But since he was obviously waiting for an explanation of her remark, she said, “The woman you said you had to get home to last week.”

  “Oh, right.�
� The hint of a smile tugged at one side of his mouth as he glanced around. “This really isn’t her kind of place.”

  Sky wasn’t offended by his remark. Though Diggers’ did a good business as both a restaurant and a bar, she knew that the roadhouse-style establishment wasn’t to everyone’s liking and that its popularity had as much to do with the limited options in town as its menu offerings.

  “We do a fair amount of takeout business, too,” she said, offering him another option.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said.

  She nodded and moved down the bar to serve another customer.

  Because she wasn’t the type of woman to make a move on another woman’s man—but no other man had ever tempted her like Jake Kelly did.

  * * *

  Twelve weeks after he’d picked up the key from his uncle’s lawyer, Jake was still adjusting to life in Haven, Nevada. Molly, on the other hand, had immediately and fully embraced the freedom of the countryside, and he suspected she would be less than thrilled when it was time to go back to San Diego.

  Because they would have to go back, but not yet.

  Not until he’d figured out what he was going to do with the rest of his life now that his military career was over.

  It was a question he’d always known he would face one day. He’d just never expected that day to come before his thirtieth birthday. And now, two years later, he was no closer to finding the answer than he’d been when he got his discharge papers along with his purple heart.

  “Molly!”

  There was no response to his call, so Jake put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. He scanned the yard, looking for any sign of his canine companion, then whistled again.

  Finally she appeared, bounding over the fence and racing toward him.

  He sighed as she came to an abrupt halt in front of him, her tongue lolling out of her mouth, her big dark eyes shining with happiness.

  “You’ve been trespassing again, haven’t you? And probably chasing squirrels, too,” he surmised.

  Her attention deficit was probably the reason she’d flunked out of training to be certified as an emotional support animal, but the trainer’s loss was Jake’s gain. Molly had been his closest friend and confidante for more than two years now, and during that time, he’d never awakened from a nightmare alone. She might not always come right away when she was called, but she didn’t need a certificate to know when someone was hurting.