Contents

  Author's Note

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  Epilogue

  About

  Author's Note

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  1

  Dallas

  I’m like a bear with a sore paw, ready to snarl and snap at the world. But to hear Mac and the Lieutenant tell it, I’m more closely resembling a pouting little girl. They’re both sitting in my cabin, staring me down. Well, Mac is leaning against the wall with his arms folded, but the effect is the same. They’re kicking me off the mountain, effective immediately.

  “Dallas, coughing up blood isn’t something that goes away on its own,” Mac finally snaps. Fuck, I know that. I just don’t want to deal with the consequences. People, hospitals, traffic.

  The Lieutenant frowns harder. “If it’s the money…”

  I hold up a hand. “Fuck that, Lieutenant. I got that extra endorsement deal. After the movie, remember? It’s not the money. It’s everything that goes into spending it,” I grouse, earning me a small twitch of the lips. These two are no better, just that now they have wives and kids to keep them grounded in the real world. Before that they were grumpy loners just like me.

  “There’s some good news,” Mac offers slowly.

  I raise an eyebrow in disbelief. Mac rolls his eyes. “Two pieces of good news, actually. The first is Commander McBride, the surgeon that first worked on you is now operating as a civilian out of Destiny Bay. I already contacted him and he’s agreed to meet with you and go over the scans. You need surgery asap, Dallas. And someone that’s already seen your messed up plumbing will make for a better outcome.”

  I nod, feeling defeated. The shrapnel fragments that were lodged too close to my spine to remove before have shifted, hence the bleeding lungs. God only knows what the others are next to. I’m not feeling like I’ve got a lot to live for, but I’m hardly in the mood to just give up and die, either.

  “And the other good news?” I ask sardonically.

  “Well,” the Lieutenant drawls. “You’ll have post-op appointments so you can’t return here after surgery.”

  “Fuck!” I start to jump to my feet until Mac glares at me and I sink down on to the side of the bed again.

  “So we’ve arranged for you to stay at a friend’s place and another connection’s daughter has agreed to spend a few months looking after you. She’s fresh out of school and hasn’t found a job yet, so you’re going to give her the start of some work history. She’ll earn it, but she’s young, so watch the foul mouth, Summers.”

  “Double fuck,” I growl, thinking the last thing I need is a do-gooding young woman trying to take care of me, smothering me with blankets and affirmations.

  “You’ll be weaker than a wet cat and likely twice as ornery, Dallas, so go easy on her. You’ll need the help. If for nothing else, then don’t waste the good doctor’s work.”

  I hear the order in his words and don’t bother defying it. I sigh and give them both a lazy salute.

  Esme

  I’m a sucker for wounded animals. My mother knows this and so did my grandma. So when mom invokes Grandma’s recent passing as the reason why I should feel inspired to spend the rest of the winter feeding soup to an injured soldier, I can feel my will softening to jelly almost immediately. I need to be hitting the phones and social media in an effort to make the right contacts to even get my foot in the door for a job interview. But looks like I’m giving back in the form of soup and sponge baths instead.

  In place of how-to-start-life-as-an-adult advice I’m listening to, “He’s older and never married, Es. He’s got nobody to take care of him and his home is too remote for an invalid.”

  I’m now picturing a man in his seventies, surrounded by black-and-white photo albums of his war adventures.

  “What kind of soldier was he?” I ask idly, curious about the war stories I’m likely in for.

  “Oh, he was a Navy SEAL. Do you remember the movie about the San Sebastian? He was one of them.” My mom waves her hand around in the air like that’s going to help. But I sit up straight. Because first of all, a SEAL? And he’s too weak to take care of himself? Somehow that makes me think he might die on my watch. And second, that movie isn’t that old, nor were the events it was based on. Of course he’s older than me. But he can’t be much over forty.

  “So if he’s not allowed to go home, where is he going to live? Are you inviting him here?” I ask dubiously, because there is no guestroom with me living here again temporarily since I’m no longer in school. I’m not so selfish I wouldn’t move to the sofa for someone that truly needed my bed. But I’m not looking forward to it.

  “Oh no. His friends have made arrangements. He, and you, will be staying at the Lodge at Angel Lake just a couple of hours from Destiny Bay. You’ll need to take him to his follow-up appointments, but as long as you keep him from doing anything stupid, there shouldn’t be too many of those. And you’ll be high in the mountains on a lake. There’s even a spa!”

  She holds that out like she’s volunteering me for a vacation. I don’t quite see where there’s a space in the schedule she just described to nip out for a massage. Or the money for that kind of extra. But I also can’t stand to think of someone hurting with absolutely no family or friends to look after him.

  “Your grandma stopped by their compound once, you know. When she took that road trip with Bhodie.”

  Oh Lord. That journey is legendary. My cousin Bhodie has never quite recovered from three weeks with an octogenarian, although he is now a resident specializing in geriatrics, so I guess some good came out of it.

  “What compound?” I don’t remember Grandma ever mentioning a military hangout.

  “Some old roadhouse diner that she remembered from the old days. But this group of SEALs turned it into their command center. She wasn’t too impressed with their housekeeping, but apparently they made up for it with surveillance tech. And their good looks,” my mom adds dryly. She can do that because grandma was Dad’s mom, not hers.

  “Whose good looks?” my dad asks as he comes into the kitchen, dropping an automatic kiss on my mom’s cheek. It used to annoy me how nice they are to each other. And then I went away to school and saw how rare that was, not just among the students. Now I’m a tiny bit jealous because I think they’ve spoiled it for me. If I can’t have someone that likes me that much, I’d rather be alone. Which I am. And have been. And probably always will be.

  2

  Esme

  Despite my dad’s vocal misgivings about his baby girl going off with a strange (incapacitated) man for two months, here I sit at Destiny Bay Community Hospital. I’m waiting on Dallas Summers’s release and I’ve yet to actually meet him. I stuck my head in his room to introduce myself, but he was asleep and it felt rude to stare at him. Although what I did see was absa-freaking gorgeous. He was lying on his side and has a jaw that could slice cheese. And this thick dark hair that makes you want to run your fingers through it. Not to mention that because of his surgeries, he didn’t have any kind of shirt on. I wonder if he’s nice?

  That question is answered with a definitive no when someone in maroon scrubs wheels him down the hall in a wheelchair. Dallas is wearing a scowl that would get rated as overacting if it were in a movie. But it’s not. And even worse, it’s currently aimed at me. I gulp and stand. “Mr. Summers? I’m Esme Havers, here to help while you recover.” I give him a weak smile and get an unintelligible growl in return. I’m slightly heartened by the fact that his scowl doesn’t quite reach into his eyes.

  The man in scrubs looks tired. “Why don’t you bring your vehicle around to the door and I’ll get him loaded up for you?” Dallas’s scowl magnifies. He really doesn’t like needing help. Or maybe he hates being referred to in the third person. Either way, the only thing I can do to alleviate the situation is go get my car.

  Even healthy, I’m not sure Dallas would fit in my student-grade faded-blue car, but somehow with the seat all the way back and his knees bent all the way forward, he’s in. I give a nod of thanks to the hospital guy and take a huge breath in while I walk around to the driver’s side. This is shaping up to be a long two months. I don’t even make an attempt at conversation when I start the engine and drive us out of the medical center grounds. Dallas has already made it clear that he’s not going to be responding with anything except grunts, glares, and hisses for the foreseeable future.

  The lodge is a couple of hours away, so eventually I turn the radio on softly, to a classical station, figuring that’s supposed to relax people. And if I ask him his taste in music, I’ll get a grunt or similar and I don’t know where to find that on the dial. When I sneak a peek at Dallas midway to make sure he’s actually okay, his eyes are closed, but it’s obvious he’s awake. How much of this is pain versus orneriness, I wonder?

  “Stay here until I can get someone to help,” I order him firmly when I park the car at the entrance to the lodge. He doesn’t answer me, so I exit the car and head in to figure out where we’re staying and how to get there. I have the instructions from his friends that made the arrangements. I’m glad he’s got that much support, at least. Maybe when he’s feeling better, he’ll tell me about this mysterious compound.

  Dallas

  Fuck, I’m tired. Not just physically. I’m sick of tubes and beeps and too many people asking me how I’m feeling. And worse, they send a sweet young thing with toffee-colored curls to take care of me. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t her. Somehow I’d gotten the notion that this mysterious caretaker would be either a fluffy dumb kitten that I could ignore completely or some kind of Soviet nanny that could bench press my weight.

  No, instead I got Esme. She’s tall and curvy. Gorgeous and doesn’t know it. And too goddamn young. I’m scaring her and she’ll be damned if she’s allowing herself to show it, which has already earned my reluctant respect. That and she didn’t try to talk my ear off. No touching, Summers, I remind myself. That girl is strictly off limits. Forever.

  Doesn’t mean I’m planning on following her rules, though. I unlatch the seatbelt and unwedge myself from her tiny clown car. It feels good to stretch my legs, but even that much movement has me leaning against the roof for support.

  Tanner Finlay, trailed by an anxious-looking Esme, comes out the main entrance looking more relaxed than I ever remember seeing him. We were buddies in high school but went our separate ways into adulthood. I would have died a slow death doing what he did, school followed by a corporate desk, but there’s no denying he’s still driven. It seems to agree with him.

  “You look like you went through the wash backwards, Summers,” he comments dryly while assessing the situation.

  I nod in acknowledgment and a smidgen of gratitude for not being asked how I’m feeling. Finlay looks over at Esme with a kind smile. “You’ve got your hands full with this one, Ms. Havers.”

  “Oh! Call me Esme. Can I leave the car here while I get our luggage? There isn’t much. I supposed I could park in the lot and…” She’s biting her lip with anxiety and it’s almost my undoing.

  Tanner stops her with another fucking angelic smirk. It bothers me until I spot the wedding ring on his hand. When the hell did he get hitched? “It’s fine. In fact, why don’t you wait right here and I’ll send someone out with a cart while I help our patient to his room? Then I’ll come back for you and you can have dinner and rest, knowing he’s out of your hair for a few hours.”

  I resent that even if I know it’s true. Esme nods uncertainly while without any warning Finlay loops an arm under mine and half drags me into the lodge towards the elevator.

  “Thanks, I think,” I mutter as he leans me against the interior metal wall of the industrial elevator.

  Finlay just grins. “You gave me the distinct impression you weren’t going to last another five minutes. Esme looks kinda young to be wiping your sorry ass.”

  “Not my idea,” I growl, and Finlay laughs.

  “I’m not one to point fingers. Turns out the perfect woman for me is seventeen years younger. It’s working for us.” He’s got this sappy smile on his face that tells me he’s happy as fuck. I don’t see that in my future.

  “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and in bed for the lady,” Finlay says as he pulls me out of the elevator and into the first door in the hallway. It’s a nice space. Two bedrooms off of a central living room with a small kitchenette.

  “I saved this one for you so you wouldn’t have to traipse the length of the corridor but I hear you’re supposed to be walking so I expect to see you marching down the hall on the regular,” he comments as he drops me at the entrance to the bathroom. “You’re on your own holding your dick, Summers,” he adds. And his only response to my growl is to laugh, but I notice he doesn’t go far as I shut the door and take care of business.

  I’m exhausted when I sink down onto the luxury mattress, grateful for it and pissed off that I have to lie on my front for the foreseeable future. I hope someone went and got that poor girl at some point. Hate to think of her spending the night in the driveway. That thought briefly catches my attention, but then I hear voices outside my bedroom door and let sleep claim me. She’s here, she’s safe. We’re good.

  3

  Esme

  I’m not a nurse. I studied wildlife biology in school. My hope is to get one of those research positions tagging eagles or marmots or whatever will get me out in the trees and away from the majority of people.

  Still, instinct has me checking in on Dallas first thing in the morning. I knock softly in case he’s awake before opening the door but as soon as I do I can tell by his deep breathing he’s still out. I tiptoe in and sort of hover a hand over his bare shoulder, checking to see if he’s got a fever. If anything, he seems cold, so I bring up the lightest blanket from the foot of the bed and drape it over his shoulders. He mumbles something into the pillow and I scurry out.

  Breakfast has already been delivered. Mr. Finlay explained to me that, as he’s well familiar with Dallas’s temperament, he went ahead and arranged for full meal service for both of us. Dallas isn’t on any restrictions so it will be healthy, easy to eat in bed food for a while but plenty of it and if there’s anything I don’t like I’m to leave a note with the dishes and Chef will adjust accordingly. It made me breathe a huge sigh of relief because translating the grunts into menu choices would be a nightmare.

  And this is luxury living where I come from. I cheerfully lift covers and peek under folded napkins at all the goodies and then fill a plate. I hear water running from his bathroom, so I’m not too shocked when he appears sans shirt in his doorway. He’s looking both bleary-eyed and grumpy.

  “Want some breakfast?” I ask cheerily and am met with a mild glare. Then I see the problem. There’s at least twenty-five feet between him and the table and nothing to hang on to. He’s able to walk, but I think that distance may exceed his capacity. And I have a feeling he turned down something sensible, like a walker or a cane at the hospital. I jump up and sling an arm around his waist before he can tell me not to.

  He growls when I start walking towards the table. “Don’t be such a baby. There’s a ton of food and coffee as your reward.”

  That surprises him. I notice that because he goes still and doesn’t grunt for the entirety of the trip into the living room. When he cautiously eases down onto the chair, he’s eyeing me like I’m a puzzle he can’t quite figure out. I shrug and resume my seat. I’m hungry if he isn’t.

  Slowly, he reaches for some of the food. Mostly what’s closest, so I push a few of the plates over and pour him a cup of coffee. “Don’t expect full service dining for two months. This is just because it’s your first day and I can tell your pride is hurting,” I warn him. I notice his lips twitch slightly, like he’s amused, but all I really get in response is a classic Dallas grunt.

  When I’m done, I set my dishes on the cart and go back to my bedroom to get dressed for the day. I’ve no idea what it will entail, but based on Dallas, probably nothing too exciting. I take my e-reader with me when I head back into the living room. Dallas has antibiotics he’s supposed to take along with pain meds that I have a feeling he’s going to refuse. So I set up his med station on the counter in the kitchenette. He nods when I show him the antibiotics and I hold back the eye roll when he shakes his head no for the pain meds. Knew it.

  Nothing explains the tingle I feel though when I hand him the small white pill and our hands touch briefly. He doesn’t seem to notice anything, so I start straightening the table. “Do you want to go back to bed or do your walk now?” I ask as he slowly stands.

  “What am I, a dog?” His voice is raspy, and I know he’s not deliberately trying to be nasty.

  “You’re supposed to get two short walks in every day for the next three days and then an hour-long walk a day after that, with breaks. And you will do them, mister.” I stand there with my hands on my hips and stare down a Navy SEAL nearly two decades older than me.

  I’m really proud of myself when it works. At first, his eyebrows go up in disbelief and then the corners of his blue eyes start to crinkle. Then dawn breaks into the first genuine smile I’ve seen from him. It only lasts a second and then the clouds return. He scowls. “Fine, let’s get this over with, then.”

 

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