Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | Lucy and The Lieutenant

Lucy and The Lieutenant
Helen Lacey


THE VIRGIN AND THE VETERANDr. Lucy Monero feels like the oldest virgin on the planet. Still crushing on her longtime neighbor, she's waited a lifetime for her first…and last. The man she'll marry. And now he's back–the star of her fantasies, ex-cowboy-turned-army-vet Brant Parker. The physician in her recognizes a wounded soul, but the woman in her burns for his touch. Lucy's head is filled with visions of white lace and white picket fences.The last thing Brant needs is the walking, talking temptation that is Lucy. He may be out of his army fatigues but he still carries his demons. He's a loner, not the marrying kind that the hometown sweetheart deserves. So why can't he stop wanting her?









She just about undid him with a single touch.


“Lucy … stop.”

She didn’t move her hand. “I can’t.”

He couldn’t have moved away if he’d tried. She was pure temptation. And he wanted her.

When he dipped his head, his intention clear, a tiny moan escaped her. It was the sweetest kiss he’d ever experienced, almost as though it possessed a kind of purity that had never been matched and never would.

Brant suddenly felt as if he’d been sucker-punched. Because he’d known, deep down, that kissing Lucy would be incredible. Everything about her had been tempting him for months. Every look, every word, every touch had been drawing them toward this moment. His pulse galloped, knees grew weak, until he pulled back and looked into those honest eyes.

What was he doing? Lucy was the hometown girl who wanted romance, marriage, the white picket fence. Brant didn’t do any of those things.

Her eyes shimmered with a kind of longing that heated his blood even further. But he fought the urge to kiss her again, because he knew where it would lead. He’d want to make love to her forever. and that was the one thing he couldn’t give.

Cedar River Cowboys:

Riding into town with romance on their minds!




Lucy & the Lieutenant

Helen Lacey







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


HELEN LACEY grew up reading Black Beauty and Little House on the Prairie. These childhood classics inspired her to write her first book when she was seven, a story about a girl and her horse. She loves writing for Mills & Boon Cherish, where she can create strong heroes with a soft heart and heroines with gumption who get their happily-ever-after. For more about Helen, visit her website, www.helenlacey.com (http://www.helenlacey.com).


For Robert… to the moon and back.


Contents

Cover (#u9026db99-7fc8-5a87-b940-c77df1253f1e)

Introduction (#u9f1fa036-e21b-5f9c-a914-588f198c439d)

Title Page (#uc14d2468-6ea7-5016-bad0-a341c330e619)

About the Author (#ub91adfb5-5b3f-5d28-9841-15eb7dd4945b)

Dedication (#u8fd61138-567a-5394-aeee-9a3ac63fdf43)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#u4f77e72b-8abb-519b-8efc-f5c1ccbb05f3)

Brant Parker grabbed the T-shirt stuffed in the back pocket of his jeans and wiped his brow.

It was cold out, but he’d been working for four hours straight without a break and it was quite warm inside the closed-up rooms of the Loose Moose Tavern. He’d spent the best part of three weeks stripping out the old timber framing and flooring that had gone through a fire eight months earlier.

Most people said he was crazy for buying the place, like it had some kind of hoodoo attached to it. But he didn’t believe in hoodoo or bad luck, and he wasn’t swayed by anyone telling him what he should or shouldn’t do. The Loose Moose had been a part of Cedar River for over thirty years and he believed the old place deserved another chance.

Maybe he did, too.

Brant dropped the piece of timber in his hands, stretched his back and groaned. It had been a long day and he wanted nothing more than to soak under a hot shower and to relax in front of some mindless TV show for an hour or two. But first he had to go to the veterans home to visit his uncle, as he did every Tuesday and Friday.

Uncle Joe was his father’s oldest brother and a Vietnam veteran who’d lost a leg in the war. He also had a heart condition and suffered from the early stages of Parkinson’s disease. He lived in full-time care at the home adjacent to the small community hospital. Brant cared deeply for his uncle. The older man knew him. Got him. Understood the demons he carried.

He headed upstairs to the small apartment and took a shower, then dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. It was snowing lightly, a regular occurrence in South Dakota in winter, but quite unusual for mid-November. He shouldered into his lined jacket, pulled on woolen socks and heavy boots, and grabbed his truck keys. The home was a ten-minute drive in good weather from the main street in town and since snow was now falling in earnest, he knew the roads would be slippery. Brant took his time and arrived about fifteen minutes later. It was late afternoon and the parking lot was empty, so he scored a spot easily and got out of the truck.

The wind howled through his ears and he pulled the jacket collar around his neck. It promised to be a long and chilly winter ahead. But he didn’t mind. It sure beat the relentless, unforgiving heat of a desert summer like the last one he’d endured in Afghanistan. The light blanket of snow made him feel as though he was home. And he was. For good this time. No more tours. No more military. He was a civilian and could lead a normal life. He could get up each morning and face a new day. And he could forget everything else.

Brant headed for the front doors and shook off his jacket before he crossed the threshold. When he entered the building, heat blasted through him immediately. The foyer was empty and the reception desk had a sign and a bell instructing to ring for attendance. He ignored both and began walking down the wide corridor.

“Hi, Brant.”

The sound of his name stopped Brant in his tracks and he turned. A woman emerged from a door to his left and he recognized her immediately. Lucy Monero. He cringed inwardly. He wasn’t in the mood for the pretty brunette with the lovely curves and dancing green eyes, and tried to stay as indifferent as possible. “Good afternoon, Dr. Monero.”

“Please,” she said just a little too breathlessly. “Call me Lucy.”

He wouldn’t. Keeping it formal meant keeping her at a distance. Just as he liked it.

Instead he made a kind of half-grunting sound and shrugged loosely. “Have you seen my uncle this afternoon?”

“Just left him about ten minutes ago,” she said, smiling. “He said he’s feeling good today. The nurses left food on the tray, so perhaps see if you can get him to eat something.”

“Sure.”

She didn’t move. Didn’t pass. She simply stood there and looked at him. Examined him, he thought. In a way that stirred his blood. It had been too long since anything or anyone had stirred him. But Lucy Monero managed it with barely a glance.

And he was pretty sure she knew it.

“So, how’s the shoulder?” she asked, tossing her hair in a way that always made him flinch.

A trace of her apple-scented shampoo clung to the air and he swallowed hard. “Fine.”

He’d dislocated his shoulder eight weeks earlier when he’d fallen off his motorbike. She’d been one of the doctors on duty at the hospital that night. But he’d made a point of ensuring she didn’t attend him. He hadn’t wanted her poking and prodding at him, or standing so close he’d be forced to inhale the scent of her perfume.

“Glad to hear it. I was talking to your mother the other day and she said you plan to reopen the tavern in the next few months?”

His mother had made her opinion about Lucy Monero clear on numerous occasions. She was Lucy’s number-one fan and didn’t mind telling him so. But he wasn’t interested in a date, a relationship or settling down. Not with anyone. Including the pretty doctor in front of him. Her dark brows and green eyes were a striking combination and no doubt a legacy from her Italian heritage. She wore scrubs with a white coat over them, and he figured she’d just come from the emergency room at the hospital where she worked. But he knew she was also filling in at the veterans home a couple of times a week while one of the other doctors was on leave. Uncle Joe thought the world of her, too. And even his older brother, Grady, had extolled her virtues after she’d attended to his youngest daughter when the child had been taken to the ER a couple of months ago with a high fever.

Brant did his best to ignore her eyes, her hair and the curves he knew were hidden beneath the regulation blue scrubs. “That’s the plan.”

She smiled a little, as though she was amused by his terse response, as though she had some great secret only she was privy to. It irritated him no end.

“I’m pleased your shoulder is okay.”

He wished she’d stop talking. “Sure, whatever.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Well, see you soon, Brant.”

She said his name on a sigh. Or at least, that’s how it sounded. There was a husky softness to her voice that was impossible to ignore. And it always made him tense. It made him wonder how her voice would sound if she was whispering, if she was bent close and speaking words only he could hear.

Brant quickly pulled himself out of the haze his mind was in and nodded vaguely, walking away, well aware that she was watching him.

And knowing there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about.

* * *

Lucy let out a long sigh once Brant Parker disappeared around the corner of the ward. His tight-shouldered gait was one she would recognize anywhere—at the hospital, along the street, in her dreams.

He’d been in them for years. Since she’d been a starry-eyed, twelve-year-old mooning over the then-fifteen-year-old Brant. She’d lived next door to the Parker ranch. The ranch he’d left when he was eighteen to join the military. She’d left Cedar River for college just a couple of years later and put the boy she’d pined over as a teen out of her thoughts. Until she’d returned to her hometown to take a position at the small county hospital. She’d seen him again and the old attraction had resurfaced. He had been back from another tour of the Middle East and they’d bumped into each other at the O’Sullivan pub. Of course he hadn’t recognized her. The last time they’d crossed paths she had been a chubby, self-conscious teenager with glasses. He’d seemed surprised to see her, but had said little. That had been more than two years earlier. Now he was back for good. Just as she was. He had left the military after twelve years of service and bought the old Loose Moose Tavern.

He could have done anything after high school—maybe law or economics—as he was supersmart and was always at the top of his class. One of those gifted people who never had to try hard to make good grades. He spoke a couple of languages and had been some kind of covert translator in the military. Lucy didn’t know much about it, but what she did she’d learned from his mother, Colleen. The other woman regularly visited Joe Parker and also volunteered at the hospital where Lucy specialized in emergency medicine.

She’d known the Parkers since she was a child. Back then her parents had owned the small ranch next door. When she was fourteen her dad had died unexpectedly from a stroke, and then within a year her mother had sold the place and moved into town. A few years later her mother was killed in an accident. By then Lucy was ready for college, which would be followed by medical school, and had left town. The house her mother had bought in town was now hers and it was conveniently located just a few streets from the hospital. She was back in Cedar River to give back to the town she loved.

And maybe find her own happiness along the way.

Because Lucy wanted to get married and have a family. And soon. She was twenty-seven years old and had never had a serious romantic relationship. She’d never been in love. The truth be told, she’d never really been kissed.

And she was the only twenty-seven-year-old virgin she knew.

In high school she had been a geek to the core and had mostly been ignored by the boys in her grade. She hadn’t even managed to get a date for prom. And by the time she was in college, her dreams about dating quickly disappeared. Three weeks into college and her roommate was assaulted so badly Lucy spent two days with the other girl at the hospital. It was enough to make her wary about getting involved with anyone on campus. She made a few friends who were much like herself—focused kids who studied hard and avoided parties and dating. By the time she started medical school the pattern of her life had been set. She was quiet and studious and determined to become a good doctor. Nothing else mattered. Though she’d gotten more comfortable over time in social situations, she was known as a girl who didn’t date and, after a while, the invitations stopped.

One year quickly slipped into another and by the time she’d finished her residency she’d stopped fretting about being the oldest virgin on the planet. Not that she was hanging on to it as though it was a prize...she’d just never met anyone she liked enough to share that kind of intimacy with. Of course her closest friends, Ash, Brooke and Kayla, thought it amusing and teased her often about her refusal to settle for just anyone. She wanted special. She wanted a love that would last a lifetime.

She wanted...

Brant Parker.

Which was plain old, outright, what-are-you-thinking-girl stupid, and she knew it deep within her bones. Brant never looked at her in that way. Most of the time he acted as though he barely even saw her. When they were kids he’d tolerated her because they were neighbors, and in high school he had been three years ahead and hadn’t wasted his time acknowledging her in the corridors. By the time she was in college he was long gone from Cedar River.

Her cell beeped and quickly cut through her thoughts. It was Kayla reminding her that she’d agreed to meet her and Ash and Brooke at the O’Sullivan pub for a drink and catch-up that evening. It had become something of a Friday-night ritual since she’d returned to town. Kayla had been a friend since junior high and worked as curator of the small Cedar River historical museum and art gallery, and Ash was a cop with the local police department. Brooke, who was Brant’s cousin, was pure cowgirl and owned a small horse ranch just out of town.

All four women were good friends and she thoroughly enjoyed their company...most of the time. But she wasn’t really in the mood for drinks and conversation tonight. She’d had a long morning in the emergency room and had been at the veterans home for the past few hours. She was tired and wanted nothing more than to go home, strip off and soak in the tub for a leisurely hour or so. But since her friend wouldn’t take no for an answer, she agreed to meet them at the pub at six, which gave her an hour to get home, feed the cat, shower and change, and then head back into town.

Lucy ended the call and walked toward the nurses’ station. She handed in her charts to the one nurse on duty and signed out. She had another two weeks at the home before her contract was up and then she’d return full-time to the hospital. But she’d enjoyed her time working with the veterans. And with Joe Parker in particular. He was a natural storyteller and entertained everyone with his charm and easy-going manner.

Pity his nephew didn’t inherit some of those manners or charm.

Lucy wrinkled her nose and headed down the hall to the small locker room. Brant made her mad the way he ignored her. It wasn’t like he was some great catch or anything. Sure, he had a body to die for. And the sexiest deep blue eyes. And dark hair that she’d often imagined running her fingers through. But he was a moody, closed-off loner who didn’t seem to have time for anyone. Except his closest family members. She’d seen him in town one morning with his young nieces and the girls clearly adored him. It had made her think about how he’d probably make a great dad one day. And the idea of that quickly had her womb doing backflips.

Idiot...

She shrugged off her foolish thoughts, hung up her white coat and grabbed her bag.

The cold air outside hit her like a laser blast when she walked through the hospital doors. She quickly made it to her Honda and jumped inside. Snow was falling lightly and she watched the flakes hit the windshield. She loved snow and everything that went with it. Skiing, snowballs, log fires and the holidays... It was her favorite time of year. And one day she hoped she’d have a family of her own to share it with.

If only she could get the silly and impossible dreams of Brant Parker out of her head.

She popped the key into the ignition, started the car and drove off. The roads were slick, so she took her time getting home. When she pulled up in the driveway it was past five o’clock and she spotted her ginger cat, Boots, sitting idle in the front window. The image made her smile, and she was welcomed by the demanding feline once she’d dusted off her shoes and entered the house.

The place was small and very much in need of a complete renovation. She’d painted the walls in the living area and main bedroom when she’d returned to town for good, but since then she’d been so busy at the hospital, anything else had been put on hold. The kitchen required a complete overhaul as the cupboards were decades old and styled in old-fashioned laminate paneling and bright orange trim. It was retro in the truest sense and not to her taste. But she couldn’t really afford to get someone in to do the work until the following summer and wasn’t skilled enough to tackle anything more than painting herself. So, it would have to wait.

She dropped her bag, fed the cat and quickly checked her email before she headed to the shower. Within half an hour she was dressed in her favorite long denim skirt, emerald green shirt and mid-heeled boots. She pulled her hair from its ponytail, applied a little makeup and grabbed a small handbag for her wallet and cell phone. She texted Kayla as she was leaving, grabbed her coat and headed outside. She dusted the thin layer of snow off the windshield before she got into her car. The vehicle took a few turns of the key to start, but she was soon on her way.

The O’Sullivan pub was in the center of town and possessed a kind of richly authentic Irish flavor. It was actually a hotel, with fifteen luxurious rooms, two restaurants, a bar, an outdoor garden for private functions and several conference rooms available for rent. The O’Sullivan family was rich and well-known. Although the old man, John O’Sullivan, had retired and his eldest son, Liam, now ran the place, he still walked around with his chest puffed out like he ruled the town and everyone in it. No one crossed the O’Sullivans. No one would dare. The hotel was one of the main draws in the town and that had a lot of pull with the mayor’s office. Tourists came to see the old mines, the occasional rodeos, the horse and cattle ranches, and many used the town as a stopover before they crossed the state line. Since the O’Sullivan’s hotel was the poshest place to stay, few people objected to paying for their amenities.

She did wonder if that’s why Brant had bought the Loose Moose—as a way of sticking it to the O’Sullivans. There was certainly no love lost between the two families. Brant’s older brother, Grady, had been married to Liz O’Sullivan, and Lucy knew her parents had never thought a rancher was good enough for their beloved daughter. When Liz died a few years ago things had gotten worse and, according to Colleen Parker, the feud between the two families was now quite intense.

It was early, so she found a spot outside the hotel and parked. She got out, grabbed her coat from the backseat and tossed it over her arm. A few people milled around the front of the hotel, and she recognized a couple of nurses from the hospital and waved as she made her way through the wide doors.

Kayla, Brooke and Ash were already seated at a booth in the bar when she arrived, with a pitcher of sangria between them. The O’Sullivan pub certainly wasn’t the average run-of-the-mill kind of drinking establishment. If you wanted beer and a game of pool you went to one of the other cowboy bars in town like Rusty’s or the Black Bull. She slid into the booth and raised a brow at the quarter-empty pitcher on the table. “You started without me?”

Brooke tossed her straight blond hair a little and grinned. “You’re late. So, of course.”

Blue-eyed Ash, whose bobbed hair was the color of copper, smiled and nodded. “I’m off duty.”

“And being a museum curator is thirsty work,” Kayla said and laughed. “Although I’ll be stopping at one drink. But we got you a glass.”

Lucy chuckled and stared at her friend, who was easily the most beautiful woman she’d ever known. Kayla’s long blond hair and dark brown eyes stopped most men in their tracks.

She lifted the half-filled glass and took a small sip. “Thanks. Are we staying for dinner?”

“Not me,” Brooke said. “I have a foal due within days and with this weather coming in...” She sighed and grinned. “You know how it is.”

Yes, they all knew Brooke lived and breathed for her horses.

“Nor me. I only have a sitter until seven thirty,” Ash replied and inclined a thumb toward Kayla. “And this one has a date.”

Lucy’s gaze widened. “Really? With whom?”

Kayla laughed again. “Assignments. Marking papers for the online class I’m teaching through the community college.”

“Gosh, we’re a boring group,” Lucy said and smiled. “Just as well I have a cat to get home to.”

“You could always ask Hot Stuff over there to take you to dinner,” Kayla suggested and laughed again.

Lucy’s eyes popped wide. Hot Stuff? There was no mistaking who she meant. Her friend had been calling Brant that name for years, ever since Lucy had admitted she was crushing on him when she was a teenager.

“He’s here?”

“Yep,” Kayla replied. “Over by the bar, talking to Liam O’Sullivan.”

Lucy looked toward Ash for confirmation. “She’s right. He was here when we arrived. Looks like he’s not too happy about it, either. I don’t think he’s cracked a smile in that time.”

Nothing unusual about that, Lucy thought. She itched to turn around and see for herself, but didn’t want to appear obvious. But she was curious as to why he was with Liam O’Sullivan, considering the family history.

“You know, he’s not a complete killjoy,” Brooke said about her cousin and gave a little grin. “And if you like, I could ask him for you?”

Lucy almost spat out her sangria. “Don’t you dare,” she warned. “You know how I feel about—”

“Yes,” Brooke assured her and chuckled. “We’ve known how you feel about him for well over a decade.”

God, how foolish that sounded. And, if she were being completely honest with herself, a little pathetic. She certainly didn’t want friends thinking she was still pining for Brant Parker after so many years. “Well, I won’t be asking him to take me to dinner,” Lucy assured them.

“Pity,” Kayla said and chuckled. “Because he hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you’ve been here.”

Lucy’s cheeks heated. So, he watched her. It didn’t mean anything. She might be unkissed, untouched and naive, but she was savvy enough to know when a man wasn’t interested. Even though there were times...well, occasionally she had thought that she’d seen interest in his blue eyes. But mostly she thought it simply wishful thinking and then got on with knowing he’d never look at her in that way.

She turned her head a little and spotted him. Handsome as ever, he was talking to Liam and she experienced the usual flutter in her belly. His dark hair, strong jaw and blue eyes never failed to affect her on a kind of primal level.

“You’re imagining things,” she said dismissively and poured another quarter of a glass of sangria to keep her hands busy.

“I know what I saw,” Kayla said, still smiling. “I wonder what he’s doing talking with Liam.”

“I’m sure you’ll find out,” Lucy said with a grin.

Kayla sighed heavily. “For the last time, I am not interested in Liam O’Sullivan.”

Ash and Brooke both laughed. “Sure you aren’t,” Ash said.

“We’re just working together on the gallery extension plans, that’s all,” Kayla insisted.

Lucy was pretty sure there was more to it, but didn’t press the issue. She was more interested in knowing why Brant was consorting with his brother’s mortal enemy. But since neither things were any of her business, she concentrated on the cocktails and enjoying her friend’s company.

Except, Brooke didn’t drop the topic. “At least he hasn’t wrecked his bike again.”

“Not for a couple of months,” Lucy said and frowned. “He was lucky he wasn’t seriously injured,” she added with quiet emphasis.

His last visit to the ER was his third in seven months and had landed him with a dislocated shoulder and cuts and scrapes. The first was another flip from his motorbike. The second was when he’d climbed Kegg’s Mountain and taken a tumble that also could have killed him. Why he’d risk his life so carelessly after surviving three tours of the Middle East, Lucy had no idea.

“I guess he’s just adventurous,” Brooke said, and Lucy saw a shadow of concern in her friend’s expression. This was Brant’s cousin. Family. Brooke knew him. And clearly she was worried.

“Maybe,” Lucy replied and smiled fractionally, eager to change the subject.

Ash bailed at seven fifteen to get home to her eleven-year-old son, Jaye. Lucy hung out with Kayla and Brooke for another ten minutes before they all grabbed their bags and headed out. Brant had left half an hour earlier, without looking at her, without even acknowledging her presence. Kayla managed a vague wave to Liam O’Sullivan before they walked through the doors and into the cold night air.

Lucy grabbed her coat and flipped it over her shoulders. “It’s still snowing. Weird for this time of year. Remind me again why I didn’t accept the offer to join the hospital in San Francisco?”

“Because you don’t like California,” Kayla said, shivering. “And you said you’d miss us and this town too much.”

“True,” Lucy said and grinned. “I’ll talk to you both over the weekend.”

They hugged goodbye and headed in opposite directions. People were still coming into the hotel and the street out front was getting busy, so she took some time to maneuver her car from its space and drive off.

The main street of Cedar River was typical of countless others in small towns: a mix of old and new buildings, cedar and stucco, some tenanted, some not. There were two sets of traffic lights and one main intersection. Take a left and the road headed toward Rapid City. Go right and there was Nebraska. Over three and a half thousand people called Cedar River home. It sat peacefully in the shadow of the Black Hills and was as picturesque as a scene from a postcard. She loved the town and never imagined living anywhere else. Even while she was away at college, medical school and working at the hospital in Sioux Falls for three years, her heart had always called her home.

Up until recently the town had been two towns—Cedar Creek and Riverbend—separated by a narrow river and a bridge. But after years of negotiating, the townships had formed one larger town called Cedar River. Lucy had supported the merger... It meant more funding for the hospital and the promise of a unified, economically sound community.

Lucy was just about to flick on the radio for the chance to hear the weather report when her car spluttered and slowed, quickly easing to little more than a roll. She steered left and pulled to the curb as the engine coughed and died.

Great...

A few cars passed, all clearly intent on getting home before the snow worsened. Lucy grabbed her bag and pulled out her cell. She could call her automobile club for assistance, but that meant she’d be dragging mechanic Joss Culhane out to give her a tow home. And Joss was a single dad with two little girls to look after and had better things to do than come to her rescue because she’d forgotten about the battery light that had been flashing intermittently all week.

Better she didn’t. She was just about to call Kayla to come and get her when she spotted something attached to one of the old buildings flapping in the breeze. A shingle. Recognition coursed through her.

The Loose Moose. Brant’s place.

A light shone through one of the front windows. He was home. She knew he lived in the apartment above the tavern. Of course she’d never been up there. But Colleen Parker had told her how he was renovating the tavern while residing in the upstairs rooms.

Lucy got out of the car and wrapped herself in her red woolen coat. Surely, Brant would help her, given the circumstances?

She grabbed her bag and locked the car before she headed toward the old tavern. The old adobe front was boarded up, apart from the two windows, and the heavy double doors were still blackened in spots from the damage caused by the fire eight months before.

Lucy knocked once and waited. She could hear music coming from inside and discreetly peered through one of the windows. There were trestle tables scattered with power tools and neat stacks of timber on the floor near the long bar, and the wall between the remaining booth seats and the back room that had once housed pool tables had been pulled down. She knocked again, louder this time, and then again. The music stopped. By the time the door swung back she was shivering with cold, her knuckles were pink and her patience a little frayed.

Until she saw him. Then her mouth turned dry and her knees knocked for an altogether different reason.

He wore jeans and a navy sweater that molded to his shoulders and chest like a second skin. His dark hair was ruffled, as though he’d just run a hand through it, and the very idea made her palms tingle. His blue eyes shimmered and his jaw was set tightly. He looked surprised to see her on his doorstep. And not one bit welcoming.

But, dear heaven, he is gorgeous.

She forced some words out. “Um, hi.”

“Dr. Monero,” he said, frowning. “It’s a little late for a house call, don’t you think?”

She swallowed hard, suddenly nervous. There was no welcome in his words. She jutted her chin. “Oh, call me Lucy,” she insisted and then waved a backward hand. “My car has stopped just outside. I think it’s the battery. And I didn’t want to call for a tow because my mechanic has two little kids and I thought it was too much to ask for him to come out in this weather and I was wondering if... I thought you might...”

“You thought I might what?”

Lucy wanted to turn and run. But she stayed where she was and took a deep breath. “I thought you might be able to help. Or give me a lift home.”

His brows shot up. “You did?”

She shrugged. “Well, I know it’s only a few blocks away, but the paths are slippery and the snow doesn’t seem to be easing anytime soon.”

His gaze flicked upward for a second toward the falling snow and then to her car. “Give me your keys,” he instructed and held out his hand.

Lucy dropped the keys into his palm and watched as he strode past her and to her car. He was in the car and had the hood up in seconds. Lucy tucked her coat collar around her neck and joined him by the vehicle. He closed the driver’s door and moved around the front, bending over the engine block. Lucy watched, captivated and suddenly breathless over the sheer masculine image he evoked. There was something elementally attractive about him...something heady and fascinating. Being around him felt as decadent as being behind the counter in a candy store. He had a narcotic power that physically affected her from the roots of her hair to the soles of her feet. And she’d never responded to a man in that way before.

Not even close.

Sure, she’d crushed on several of the O’Sullivan or Culhane brothers back in high school. But Brant Parker had never been far from her thoughts. Returning to Cedar River had only amplified the feeling over the years. Being around him made her realize how real that attraction still was. She liked him. She wanted him. It was that simple. It was that complicated.

“Battery’s dead,” he said, closing the hood.

Lucy smiled. “Well, at least that means I remembered to put gas in the tank.”

He didn’t respond. He simply looked at her. Deeply. Intently. As if, in that moment, there was nothing else. No one else. Just the two of them, standing in the evening snow, with the streetlight casting shadows across the sidewalk.

“I’ll take you home,” he said and walked back toward the Loose Moose.

Lucy followed and stood by the doors. “I’ll wait here if you like.”

Brant turned and frowned. “I have to get my jacket and keys, and my truck is parked out back. So you might as well come inside.”

He didn’t sound like he wanted her in his home. In fact, he sounded like it was the last thing he wanted. But, undeterred, she followed him across the threshold and waited as he shut the door.

“You’ve been busy,” she said as she walked through the room and dropped her bag on the bar. “The renovations are coming along.”

“That was the idea when I bought the place.”

Lucy turned and stared at him. He really was a disagreeable ass. She wondered for the thousandth time why she wasted her energy being attracted to him when he made no effort to even be nice to her.

Not one to back down, she propped her hands on her hips. “You know, I was wondering something... Is it simply me you dislike or people in general?”

His jaw tightened. Hallelujah. Connection. Something to convince her he wasn’t a cold fish incapable of response. His gaze was unwavering, blistering and so intense she could barely take a breath.

“I don’t dislike you, Dr. Monero.”

She shook her head. “My case in point. I’ve asked you half a dozen times to call me Lucy. The very fact you don’t speaks louder than words. I know you can be nice because I’ve seen you with your mom and brother and nieces. At least when we were kids you were mostly civil...but now all I get from you is—”

“You talk too much.”

Lucy was silenced immediately. She looked at him and a heavy heat swirled between them. She wasn’t imagining it. It was there...real and palpable. And mutual. As inexperienced as she was, Lucy recognized the awareness that suddenly throbbed between them.

Attraction. Chemistry. Sex.

All of the above. All very mutual.

And she had no real clue what to do about it.


Chapter Two (#u4f77e72b-8abb-519b-8efc-f5c1ccbb05f3)

Lucy Monero was a walking, talking temptation. And Brant wanted her. It took all of his willpower to not take her in his arms and kiss her like crazy.

But he stayed where he was, watching her, noticing how her hair shone from the light beaming from above. Her dazzling green eyes were vivid and suggestive, but also filled with a kind of uncertainty that quickly captivated him. Lucy had a way of stopping him in his tracks with only a look. So he didn’t dare touch her. Didn’t dare kiss her. Didn’t dare talk to her, even though there were times when he thought he’d like nothing else than to listen to her voice or to hear her breathless laughter.

When they were kids she’d hung around the ranch, often watching him and his brother break and train the horses from the sidelines, her head always tucked into a book. She’d been quiet and reserved back then, not trying to grow up before her time by wearing makeup or trendy clothes. When her dad died, her mom had sold the small ranch and they’d moved into town, so he hadn’t seen her as much. His own dad had died around that time, too, and with twenty-year-old Grady taking over the reins at their family ranch and Brant deciding on a military career midway through senior year, there wasn’t any time to spend thinking about the shy, studious girl who never seemed to be able to meet his gaze.

Not so now, he thought. She’d grown up and gained a kind of mesmerizing poise along the way. Oh, she’d always been pretty—but now she was beautiful and tempting and had firmly set her sights on what she wanted.

Which appeared to be him.

Brant wasn’t egotistical. But he recognized the look in her eyes every time they met. And he wasn’t about to get drawn into anything with Lucy Monero. She was pure hometown. A nice girl who wanted romance, a wedding and a white picket fence. He’d heard enough about it and her virtues from his mom and Brooke. Well, it wasn’t for him. He didn’t do romance. And he wasn’t about to get involved with a woman who had marriage on her mind.

“You’re staring at me.”

Her words got his thoughts on track and Brant felt heat quickly creep up his back and neck. His jaw clenched and he straightened his shoulders. “So, I’ll just get my jacket and take you home.”

“Is everything okay?” she asked quietly.

“What?”

She tilted her head a little and regarded him with her usual intensity. “You seem...tense.”

It irritated him to no end that she could see through him like that. “I’m fine,” he lied.

Her brows came up. “I’m pretty sure you’re not.”

“Is there a point you’re trying to make?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “You know, most times we meet, you barely acknowledge me. At first I thought it was because you were just settling back in to civilian life and that small talk was really not your thing. But then I’ve seen you with your family and you seem relaxed and friendly enough around them. And you were with Liam O’Sullivan earlier and didn’t end up punching him in the face, so that interaction must have turned out okay. So maybe it’s just me.”

Brant ignored the way his heart thundered behind his ribs. It is you. He wasn’t about to get drawn into her little world. Not now. Not ever. He had too much going on. Too much baggage banging around in his head. Too many memories that could unglue him if he let someone in.

“Like I said, you talk too much.”

She laughed, the sound wispy and sort of throaty and so damned sexy it sucked the air from his lungs. He was tempted to take the three steps he needed to be beside her. Maybe kissing her would get her out of his system. Maybe it was exactly the thing he needed to keep her out of his thoughts. But he stayed where he was, both irritated and fascinated by the relentless effect she had on him without even trying. And he knew the only way around it was to stay out of her way. To avoid her. To ignore her. To keep himself separate, as he had for the past eight months, and not get drawn into the land of the living where he would be forced to take part. Instead he’d stay on the sidelines, pretending everything was fine. Pretending he was fine. So his mom and brother didn’t work out that he was now a shadow of the man he’d once been.

“So, I’m right. It is just me?” she asked, stepping a little closer. “Why? Are you worried that I might work out that underneath all your brooding indifference there’s actually a decent sort of man?”

“Not at all,” he replied quietly. “Dr. Monero, the truth is I don’t think about you from one moment to the next.”

It was a mean thing to say. He knew. She knew it. And he hated the way the words tasted in his mouth. He wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t good at it. He felt clumsy even saying the words. But he had to try to keep her at a distance.

“I see.” Her eyes shadowed over for a second. She looked...hurt. Wounded. And the notion cut through him like a knife. He didn’t want to hurt her. He didn’t want to have any feelings when it came to Lucy Monero. “Okay. Fine. You’ve made yourself perfectly clear. Now, I think I’ll find my own way home.”

She was past him and by the door in seconds. As she rattled the doorknob, Brant took a few strides and reached her, placing a hand on either side of the jamb. She turned and gasped, looking up, so close he could feel her breath on his chin.

“Lucy...”

The sound of her name on his lips reverberated through him, sending his heart hammering and his blood surging through his veins. She was trapped, but didn’t move, didn’t do anything but hold his gaze steady. And this, he thought as he stared down into her face, was exactly why he needed to keep his distance. There was heat between them...heat generated by a sizzling attraction that had the power to knock him off his feet.

“Don’t...please...” she said shakily, her bottom lip trembling fractionally.

Brant stepped back and dropped his arms instantly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She nodded. “I know that. I didn’t mean I thought you would. It’s just that...being around you...it’s confusing.”

She was right about that!

“It’s like you ignore me as though I don’t exist,” she went on to say. “But sometimes you look at me as if...as if...”

“As if what?” he shot back.

“As if you do...like me.”

“Of course I do,” he admitted raggedly, taking a breath, hoping she couldn’t see how messed up he was. “But I’m not in the market for anything serious. Not with you.”

There...it was out in the open. Now she could move on and stop looking at him as though he could give her all she wanted. Because he couldn’t. He didn’t have it in him. Not now. He’d been through too much. Seen too much. He wasn’t good company. He wasn’t boyfriend or husband material. He was better off alone.

“Why not?” she asked.

Nothing...

Brant sighed heavily. “I’d prefer not to get into it.”

“Oh, no,” she said and crossed her arms, pushing her chest up, which instantly grabbed his attention.

God, her curves were mesmerizing. He looked to the floor for a moment to regather his good sense and hoped she’d stop talking. But no such luck.

“You don’t get to make a bold statement like that and then think you’re off the hook. What’s wrong with me?” Her brows rose again. “I’m honest, intelligent, loyal and respectable, and have good manners. I even have all my own teeth.”

Brant laughed loudly. God, it felt good to laugh. There was something so earnest about Lucy it was impossible to remain unaffected by her. During the past few weeks he’d often heard her soft laughter through the corridors of the veterans home and wondered how it would feel to be on the receiving end of such a sweet, sincere sound. And he wanted to hear it again.

“Well, I guess if I was buying a pony, all bases would be covered.”

Her chuckle started out soft and then morphed into a full-on, loud guffaw. By the time she was done there were tears on her cheeks. She wiped them away and thrust out her chin.

“Wow...you do have a sense of humor.” Her eyes shimmered. “Your cousin was right, you’re not always a complete killjoy.”

“No,” he said easily. “Not always.”

“So, this being a jerk thing...that’s something you save especially for me?”

Brant’s mouth twitched. “I have to get my keys,” he said, ignoring the question. “Wait here.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Aren’t you going to invite me upstairs?”

To his apartment? His bedroom? “Not a chance,” he said and strode off without looking back.

* * *

Lucy wrapped her arms around herself and wandered through the tavern. Every sense she possessed was on red alert. By the door he’d been so close...close enough that she could have taken a tiny step and been pressed against him. The heat from his skin had scorched hers. The warmth of his breath had made her lips tingle with anticipation. It was desire unlike any she’d known before. And she wanted it. She wanted him. She wanted his kiss, his touch. She wanted every part of him to cover every part of her.

And she shook all over, thinking about her false bravado. She’d never spoken to man in such a blatantly flirtatious tone before. But being around Brant was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. As inexperienced as she was, flirting and verbally sparring with him seemed to have a will and a power all of its own.

“Ready?”

He was back, standing by the steps that led upstairs. Lucy swallowed hard and nodded. “Sure. Thanks.”

He shrugged loosely. “My truck’s out back.”

“No motorbike?”

He raised a brow and began to walk toward the rear of the building. “Not in this weather.”

He was right, but the idea of being behind him on his motorbike, holding on to him, being so close she’d be able to feel his heartbeat, made her pulse race.

“So you’re only reckless with yourself. That’s good to know.”

Brant stopped midstride and turned. “What?”

Lucy held out three fingers. “That’s how many times you’ve been in hospital in the past seven months. Twice off your bike because you were speeding and once when you thought it was a good idea to climb Kegg’s Mountain—alone—and without the proper gear, I might add.”

“You’re still talking too much,” he muttered and then kept walking.

Lucy followed him down the long hallway, past the kitchen and restrooms, and then through the rear door. He waited for her to walk outside and locked the door. It was still snowing lightly and she took quick steps toward the beat-up, blue Ford pickup parked outside. He opened the passenger door, ushered her inside, strode around the front of the vehicle and slid into the driver’s seat.

“What’s your address?” he asked.

Lucy gave him directions and dropped her bag into her lap.

She expected him to immediately start the truck and drive off. But he didn’t. He put the key in the ignition but placed both hands on the steering wheel. And then he spoke.

“I wasn’t speeding. My bike blew a tire the first time and the second time I swerved to avoid hitting a dog that was on the road.”

It was meant to put her in her place. To shut her up. To end the conversation.

But Lucy wasn’t one to be silenced. “And the mountain?”

“I was unprepared. Not a mistake I would make again.” He started the engine and thrust the gear into Reverse. “Satisfied?”

Lucy’s skin tingled. The idea of being satisfied by Brant Parker had her insides doing flip-flops. Of course, he wasn’t being suggestive, but Lucy couldn’t help thinking how good a lover he would be. Not that she would have anything to make a comparison with. But she had a vivid imagination and she had certainly fantasized about being between the sheets with the man beside her.

She smiled sweetly. “I guess I didn’t hear the whole story because I didn’t attend to you the night you were brought into the ER.”

He shifted gears again and turned into the street. “I thought my mother would have kept you updated. You and she seem to have become quite the twosome.”

“I like your mom,” Lucy replied. “She’s a good friend.”

“Yeah, my mom is a good person.” He turned left. “She also likes to play matchmaker.”

Lucy’s mouth twitched. She knew that. Colleen had been gently pushing her in Brant’s direction for months. “Does that make you nervous?” she asked, turning her gaze. “I mean, now she’s got Grady settled and engaged to Marissa, do you think you’re next?”

She watched his profile. Impassive. Unmoving. Like a rock. But he was trying too hard. The pulse in his cheek was beating madly. He wasn’t so unmoved. He was simply reining his feelings in...as usual.

“She’s wasting her time.”

Lucy tried not to be offended and managed a brittle laugh. “Considering how happy your brother is now, you can’t blame your mom for wanting the same for you.”

“I’m not my brother.”

No, he wasn’t. She knew Grady Parker. Oh, he still had the Parker pride and was a teeny bit arrogant, but he was a good-natured, hardworking family man with three little girls to raise and had recently found love again with Marissa Ellis. The wedding was only a couple of weeks away and Lucy knew Brant was standing as his brother’s best man. She’d been invited, more to please Colleen Parker than anything else, she was sure. And since Brooke and Ash were both going and she liked Marissa and Grady, she was delighted to be part of their special day.

“Have you got a speech prepared?” Lucy asked, shifting the subject. “For the wedding, I mean. I hear you’re the best man. That should be a fun gig...even for you.”

He pulled the truck up outside her house, set the vehicle into Park and switched off the ignition. Then he turned in his seat and looked at her, his jaw set rigid. Boy, he was tense. And the intensity of it crackled the air between them. Lucy met his gaze and held it. Felt the heat of his stare as though he was touching her, stroking her, caressing her. She shuddered and she knew he was aware of the effect he had over her. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, as though he knew he shouldn’t react but couldn’t resist.

If he moved, if he so much as lowered his defenses in any way, Lucy would have planted herself against him and begged for his kiss. She wanted it. Longed for it. But he continued to look at her, into her, making her achingly aware of the intimacy of the small space they shared.

“Even for me?” he intoned, his deep voice as intense as a caress. “I do know how to have a good time, despite what you think.”

Lucy’s bravado spiked. “Really?”

He inhaled heavily. “What is it you want, Dr. Monero?”

The million-dollar question. Bravado was fine when it wasn’t challenged. But under scrutiny, Lucy quickly became unsettled. “I’m not... I don’t...”

“You want something. Is it me?” he asked bluntly. “Is that what you want?”

Color smacked her cheeks. “I just want—”

“Why?” he asked, cutting her off. “Why me? You could have anyone you—”

“Chemistry,” she said quickly, dying inside. “Attraction.”

“Sex?”

Lucy stilled. She didn’t want to think her reaction to him was merely physical. But since she did find him more attractive than she’d ever found any other man, perhaps she was blinded by those feelings? Maybe her daydreams about getting to know him, being around him and spending time with him were exactly that. Dreams. And foolish remnants of an old teenaged infatuation. She’d spent college and medical school wrapped in a bubble—wary of involvement with anyone because of what had happened to her roommate. But once she was back in Cedar River—more confident and older and able to meet his gaze head-on—Lucy had believed she would somehow be able to capture his attention.

But that hadn’t happened. He’d ignored her. Despite her smiles and friendly attention.

And the more he ignored her, the more she wanted him. His indifference became fuel for her teenaged fantasies and starved libido. So maybe it was just sex and she was simply too inexperienced to recognize it for what it was.

“What’s wrong with that, anyway?” she shot back as heat climbed over her skin.

His gaze narrowed. “What’s wrong with sex? Nothing...if that’s all you’re after.” He reached out and touched her hair, trapped a few strands between his fingertips. It was the first time he’d touched her and it was electric. “But you don’t strike me as the casual-sex kind of girl, Doc Monero. In fact, I’d bet my boots you are the white-picket-fence, happy-ever-after kind.”

God, if he only knew, he’d probably run a mile.

“That’s quite a judgment. And what are you? Only casual, no happy-ever-after?”

“Close enough,” he said and returned his hands to the wheel.

“Back at the tavern you said you...liked me...so which is it?”

“Neither. Both. You’re wasting your time with me. I’m not marriage material. So, good night.”

Humiliation coursed through her veins and Lucy grabbed her bag and placed it in her lap. She got the message loud and clear. He was awful. Just awful. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Are you going to walk me to my door?”

“This isn’t a date,” he said quietly.

He was such a jerk, and he was right about one thing: she was seriously wasting her time being attracted to him. Lucy set her teeth together and opened the door. “Thanks for the lift. I’ll get my car towed in the morning. Good night.”

“Good night...Lucy.”

She got out, shut the door and stomped up the path and to the front door. While she was opening the door she realized he was still parked by the curb. So maybe he did have some chivalry in him. Ha—but not enough. As she got inside and peeked through the lace curtains to watch him finally drive away, Lucy decided she was going to forget all about him and spend her nights dreaming of someone else. Anyone else.

And the sooner she started the better.

* * *

Brant had been visiting his mother’s home for lunch nearly every Saturday since he’d returned from his last tour. Colleen insisted they have a family catch-up and he didn’t mind. He loved his mom, even though she drove him nuts with her attempts to interfere in his personal life. He knew there were only good intentions in her meddling, so he usually laughed it off and ignored her. But today—the morning after the whole Lucy-Monero-and-her-broken-down-car thing—Colleen was onto him the moment he stepped foot into her kitchen.

“I went into town early to get eggs and milk and saw Lucy’s car outside the tavern,” she said, her wide-eyed gaze all speculation and curiosity.

Brant walked around the timber countertop, grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured coffee. “Her car broke down. I gave her a lift home.”

And acted like a total horse’s ass.

“She didn’t spend the night?”

Color crept up his neck. His mother looked disappointed. Boy, sometimes he wished he had one of those parents who didn’t want to talk about every single thing. “No, Mom, she didn’t.”

Colleen smiled. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to encourage her a little. She’s a nice girl. Smart. Pretty. Sweet. And she has a kind spirit. I think she’d be a good match for you.”

Brant sighed. “Are we really going to do this every Saturday?”

She grinned. “Every Saturday? I don’t think I mentioned it last weekend.”

“Oh, yeah, you did.” Brant sugared his coffee and sat at the table. “I’m not in the market for a relationship right now,” he said for the umpteenth time. “I need time to—”

“I know that’s what you think,” she said gently, cutting him off. “But I’m concerned about you.”

“I know you’re worried about me, Mom, but I’m okay,” he assured her.

“You went through a lot over there,” she said, her eyes glittering. “More than any of us will probably ever know. You’re my son and I’m always going to be looking out for you, regardless of how old you are. When you have a child of your own you will understand what I mean.”

“She’s right, you know.”

They both looked toward the doorway. His brother, Grady, stood on the threshold.

Brant frowned as his brother came into the room and sat. “You said you wouldn’t encourage her,” Brant reminded him.

Grady shrugged. “When she’s right, she’s right. I don’t think it would matter how old my girls are, I’ll always be on hand to make sure they’re all right.”

“See,” Colleen said and smiled. “At least one of my sons had the good sense to listen to me.”

Brant groaned. “Just because you meddled in his life and got him on the way to the altar, don’t think you are going to do that with me. I have no intention of getting married anytime soon.”

“You’re thirty years old,” his mom reminded him quietly. “And a civilian. You can have a normal life now, Brant.”

No, he couldn’t...

But he wasn’t about to go down that road with his mother and brother. They didn’t know much about what had happened before he’d left Afghanistan for good. He hardly dared think about it, let alone consider sharing it with his family. If they knew, they’d close ranks, smother him, give him sympathy and understanding when he deserved neither. In his mind, despite how hard he tried to get the thought out of his head, he was still a soldier. Still standing on the ridge. Still hearing the gunfire and the screams of the men in his unit who’d lost their lives that day.

“So where are the girls this morning?” he asked his brother, shifting the subject.

“With Marissa, getting their hair done.” Grady grinned. “It’s a practice run for their wedding-day hair.”

Brant admired his brother. He’d raised his three young daughters alone since his wife, Liz, had died a couple of years earlier. Brant admired Marissa, too. His soon-to-be sister-in-law adored his nieces and had effortlessly stepped into her role as stepmother to the girls since she’d accepted his brother’s proposal. Grady was a good man. The best he knew. And Brant was pleased his brother had found happiness again.

“O’Sullivan increased the offer,” Brant said and drank some coffee.

Grady tapped his fist on the table. “Son of a bitch!”

“I didn’t accept,” he said when he saw his brother’s swiftly gathering rage. “And I won’t.”

“Liam O’Sullivan believes he can have and do whatever he wants, just like his old man,” Grady said and scowled. “The whole bunch of them think they’re so damned entitled. No wonder Liz couldn’t wait to get away from them. He only wants the Loose Moose because he doesn’t want the competition. I heard he’s been sniffing around Rusty’s again, too. When Ted Graham finally does decide he wants to retire, O’Sullivan will be circling like a hyena.”

“I told Ted I’d be interested in Rusty’s if it comes on the market. He’s not foolish enough to let the O’Sullivans get hold of the place. He hates them as much as you do.”

Grady grunted. “You want two pubs? That’s ambitious.”

Brant shrugged. “Gotta make a living doing something.”

“I thought you might want to come back to the ranch where you belong.”

“I’m not much of a cowboy these days,” he said, grinning.

“You’re good with horses,” Grady said generously. “Would be a shame to waste that skill entirely.”

“You know I’ll always give you a hand if you need it. But not full-time.”

Grady nodded. “What about school?” his brother queried. “You said you were thinking of studying business at the community college.”

“I still might.”

“You could teach French at the night school, too,” Grady suggested.

“I could,” Brant replied, thinking about his options. “If I wasn’t so busy with the Loose Moose.”

“How are the renovations coming?”

“Slow,” he said. “But I knew it would take a while. Doing the majority of it myself saves dollars but takes more time.”

“If you need money to—”

“It’s fine.” Brant waved a hand. “I don’t need your money.”

“It’s family money,” Grady corrected. “The ranch is just as much yours as mine. And I would consider the tavern an investment. Dad and Uncle Joe and Granddad used to love the old place, remember?”

He did remember. It was one of the reasons why he’d been so keen to buy the tavern. “I’ll let you know,” he said, trying to fob his brother off as gently as he could.

Grady had a good heart but still acted as though he had to shoulder the brunt of all family issues. It was an “older brother thing,” he was certain. When Grady had taken over the ranch he’d made it into one of the most successful in the county. Brant admired Grady’s determination and commitment to the family, but he needed to do this alone. He needed to forge a life for himself that was of his own making.

“So, about this thing with Lucy Monero?” Grady asked.

“There’s nothing going on between us,” he assured his brother and looked toward their mother, who was cracking eggs into a bowl at the counter and pretending not to listen. “So, drop it. That means both of you.”

“Can’t,” Colleen said and grinned. “Not when one of my kids is troubled.”

Brant looked toward his brother for a little support, but Grady was nodding. Great. Suddenly, Saturday lunch had turned into some kind of intervention. Next, his mom would be suggesting he visit the shrink at the local veterans home.

“I was just talking to Dr. Allenby the other day about...”

Yep, right on schedule, he thought, and pushed his mother’s words out of his head as she rattled on. He didn’t need a shrink. He’d seen too many of them after Operation Oscar had gone down so badly. Three of his team had lost their lives. It had been two days of hell he wanted to forget. And he would, over time. If only his mom and brother would let up.

“I don’t need a shrink.”

His mother continued to whisk the eggs. “Then what about talking to someone else. Like me? Or your brother? Or even Lucy?” she suggested. “She’s a doctor...and a good one.”

Brant expelled an exasperated breath. “Mom, I’m fine. You gotta let this go, okay? I am happy,” he lied. “I have you guys and the Loose Moose... For the moment, that’s all I have room for. Working on restoring the tavern keeps my head clear, if that makes sense. And it’s all the therapy I need.”

That was the truth, at least. Sure, he was lonely, but better to be lonely than to bog someone else down with the train wreck his life had become. He probably just needed to get laid. It had been a while. He did the calculation in his head and inwardly grimaced. Man, he seriously needed to get out more. He still had friends in town, but going out with his old high school buddies, drinking beer, playing pool and talking smack didn’t really cut it anymore. He wasn’t twenty years old. He wasn’t blinded by youth or ignorance. He’d seen the world and life at its darkest and would never be able to escape who he had become. Finding someone to share that with seemed impossible. The occasional one-night stand was all he allowed himself. And since Lucy Monero was not a one-night-stand kind of woman, he knew he had to keep avoiding her.

By the time he left his mother’s it was nearly two. He headed to the hardware store to pick up a few things and spent the remainder of the afternoon working on the walls in the front part of the tavern. Turning in to bed around ten, he woke up at six on Sunday morning to get an early start, planning to spend the day sanding back the long cedar bar. But at one o’clock he got a call from Grady to say Uncle Joe had been taken to the hospital and was in the emergency room. It took him five minutes to change and head out and another fifteen to get to the hospital. He called Grady again once he was out of the truck and headed for the ER.

By the time he reached Reception he felt as though his chest might explode. The woman behind the counter said she’d inquire after his uncle and told him to wait.

Great. Exactly what he didn’t want to do.

He knew Grady was on his way to the hospital, so he paced the room for a few minutes and then finally sat. The hospital sounds reverberated in his eardrums. Phones, beepers, gurneys, heels clicking over tiles. Each sound seemed louder than the last.

He sat for five minutes, swamped by a building helplessness that was suffocating.

When he could stand it no more he got up and headed back to the counter. “Is there any news about my uncle?”

The fifty-something woman scowled a little and flicked through some charts on the desk. “No, nothing yet.”

“Then can you find someone who might know something?”

She scowled again and Brant’s impatience rose. He wasn’t usually a hothead. Most of the time he was calm and in complete control. Twelve years of military training had ingrained those traits into him. But he didn’t feel calm now. He felt as though he could barely stand to be in his own skin.

“Brant?”

He knew that voice.

Turning his head, he saw Lucy and relief flooded through him. In some part of his mind he wondered how she had the power to do that, to soothe his turbulent emotions. Just knowing she was there somehow made things easier. Better. He swiveled on his heels and watched as she walked toward him, wearing scrubs and a white coat. Brant met her gaze and swallowed hard.

“You’re here.”

“I’m here,” she said and smiled fractionally. “What do you know?”

“Not much,” he said and shook his head. “What happened?”

Her eyes gave it away. It was serious. “He had a heart attack.”

A heart attack? Fear coursed through his blood. “Is he...is he dead?”

The second it took for her to answer seemed like an hour. “No.”

Brant fought back the emotion clogging his throat. “Is he going to make it?”

She nodded slowly. “I think so.”

“Thank God,” Brant breathed and, without thinking, reached out and hauled her into his arms.


Chapter Three (#u4f77e72b-8abb-519b-8efc-f5c1ccbb05f3)

Lucy melted.

She’d never pegged Brant as a hugger. Nor did she want to think about what was going on in the minds of the two nurses at the reception desk. Cedar River was a small town. She was a doctor on staff and the most gorgeous man on the planet was holding her so tightly she didn’t dare breathe.

There might be talk. Innuendo. But she didn’t care. In that moment he needed her. Wanted her. It might be fleeting. It might be the only time she would ever get to feel what it was like to be in his arms. She heard his heart beating and felt the steady thud against her ear. His chest was broad, hard, the perfect place to rest her head, and all her plans to get him out of her mind quickly disappeared.

When he released her she was breathing deeply, conscious of the sudden intimacy between them. He pulled away and dropped his arms, watching her, his gaze so intense it weakened her knees. There was something in his eyes, a kind of wary vulnerability that tugged at her heartstrings.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, clearly aware they were being observed by the two women at the desk. “That wasn’t appropriate.”

Maybe not, she thought, but it sure felt good. It wasn’t the first time she been embraced in the waiting room. Relatives of patients had done it before when they had received news, good and bad. But this was different. This was Brant. Lucy forced some movement into her limbs and gathered her composure. She was a doctor and needed to act like one.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I can take you to see your uncle now.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

“We’ve done a few preliminary tests and it looks as though he has an arterial blockage. So he may need surgery,” she explained as she used her key card to open the doors that led to the small emergency room. “We’ll keep him here under observation tonight and then he’ll be transported to the hospital in Rapid City tomorrow. They have excellent cardiology and surgical departments there and he’ll be in really good hands.”

He walked beside her through Triage, his expression impassive and unreadable. Lucy linked her hands together and headed for the cubicle at the far end of the room. She eased the curtain back. Joe Parker was resting and she leaned a little closer toward Brant to speak.

“He’s asleep. I know his pallor looks a little gray, but that’s not unusual after an episode like he’s had. We’ll let him rest for a while and do his OBS again in half an hour. You can sit with him if you like.”

Brant nodded and sat. “Thank you.”

Lucy lingered for a moment. “We’ll do our very best for him. He’s a special man and, despite his age, he’s quite strong.”

“Yeah, he is.”

She knew how much the older man meant to Brant. She’d witnessed his affection for Joe Parker many times when he’d come to visit him at the veterans home. And Colleen had told her about the special bond they shared. They were both soldiers. They’d both fought for their country and had seen war and destruction and death. It was easy to understand why Brant cared so much for his uncle and had such a strong connection to him.

“I’ll come back in a little while,” she said and lightly touched Brant’s shoulder. He tensed immediately and she quickly pulled her hand away.

She left the cubicle and pulled the curtains together. There were three other patients in the ER. A woman with a nasty burn on her arm, a toddler with a fever and a teenage boy with a fishing hook through his thumb. She checked on the baby and was pleased that his fever had gone down fractionally, and then instructed one of the triage nurses to get the teenager prepared so she could remove the hook. By the time she was done a little over half an hour had passed and she headed back to Joe Parker’s cubicle.

Grady and Colleen were both there, bending the rules since regulation stated only two visitors were allowed at a time. But Colleen was well-known at the hospital and sometimes rules needed to be broken. Colleen was sitting in the chair and her sons flanked either side of the bed. Joe was awake and smiled broadly when she pulled back the curtain.

“Here she is,” he said. “My guardian angel. She’s been looking after me since I got here.”

Lucy grinned. “Well, you’re a model patient, so it’s been easy.”

“Never a more beautiful girl have I ever seen,” Joe said and chuckled. “Makes me wish I was forty years younger.”

Lucy smiled at his outrageous flirting and glanced toward Brant. He was watching her with blistering intensity and she quickly shifted her gaze. “How are you feeling?” she asked, grabbing the chart from the foot of the bed.

“Better for seein’ you, Doc,” he said and winked.

“Joe,” Colleen chastised her much older brother-in-law gently. “Behave yourself.”

Joe Parker smiled again, wrinkling his cheeks. “Ha! There’s no fool like an old fool, right, Doc?”

He made a breathless sound and Lucy stepped toward the bed and grasped his wrist. He was overdoing it. She urged him to lay back and rest. She checked him over and scribbled notes in his chart. When she was done she asked Grady to walk with her outside the cubicle. The eldest Parker son had his uncle’s medical power of attorney and she wanted to keep the family updated on his condition.

“It was a mild-range heart attack,” she explained once she and Grady were out of earshot. “But I’m concerned enough to send him to Rapid City for a full set of testing. He may need surgery sooner rather than later, but the cardiologist there will make that call. For the moment he is stable and out of pain.”

Grady nodded and she was struck by how alike the brothers were. Same color hair, same eyes, same tough jaw. Grady was a little taller than his brother, but Brant was broader through the shoulders. And Grady always looked happy...like he had some great secret to life. Whereas Brant...? Lucy only saw caution and resistance in his gaze. For the moment, though, her only concern was Joe Parker’s welfare. She explained the procedure for transporting him to the larger hospital and when she was done asked if he had any questions.

“No,” Grady replied. “I do know Brant will want to go with him. They’re very close.”

She nodded. “I can arrange something.” She turned to walk away when Grady said her name. “What is it?”

He shrugged loosely. “About Brant. I know this might not be the right time to say anything...but do you think you could talk to the counselor at the veterans home about perhaps having a word with him...kind of on the down-low, if you know what I mean?”

Lucy’s skin prickled. “Do you think he needs counseling?”

“I think when he was a solider he went through some bad stuff and doesn’t want to talk about it,” Grady said and sighed. “Not even to me or Mom.”

Lucy thought that, too. She knew enough about PTSD to recognize the signs. His isolation, irritability and moodiness could definitely be attributed to something like that. Of course, she had no idea what he’d witnessed in service to his country. But if his brother was concerned, that was enough for Lucy to do what she could to help.

“I could have a quiet word with Dr. Allenby. He comes to the home once a week and he’s trained to deal with veterans, particularly combat soldiers.”

Grady nodded. “Yes, my mom has mentioned him. That’s great. I’d really appreciate it if you could do that. But we might want to keep this between us, okay?”

Going behind Brant’s back didn’t sit well with her conscience. This was a conversation the Parker family needed to have together. But she could clearly see the concern in his brother’s eyes and that was enough to get her agreement for the moment. “Don’t think there’ll be a problem with that. Your brother hardly talks to me.”

“Self-preservation,” Grady said and grinned.

“What?”

His grin widened. “You know how guys are. We always do things stupid-ass backward. Ask Marissa how much I screwed up in the beginning. Ignoring her was all I could do to keep from going crazy.”

Lucy’s mouth creased into a smile. “You know he’d hate the fact we’re out here talking about him, don’t you?”

“Yep,” Grady replied. “Just as well we’re on the same side.”

Lucy’s smiled deepened. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Grady returned to his uncle’s bedside and Lucy headed to the cafeteria for a break. She ordered tea and a cranberry muffin and sat by the window, looking out toward the garden, an unread magazine open on the table in front of her. The place was empty except for the two people behind the counter and a couple of orderlies who were chatting over coffee in the far corner. She liked days like this. Quiet days. It gave her time to think. The hospital was small but catered to a wide area and some days she didn’t have time for breaks.

“Can I talk to you?”

Lucy looked up from her tea. Brant stood beside the small table. “Oh...sure.”

He pulled out the chair opposite. “Can I get you anything? More coffee?”

“Tea,” she corrected and shook her head. “And I’m good. What can I do for you?”

It sounded so perfunctory...when inside she was churning. He looked so good in jeans and a black shirt and leather jacket. His brown hair was long, too, as it had been in high school, curling over his collar a little—a big change from the regulation military crew cut she was used to seeing when he came back to town in between tours. There was a small scar on his left temple and another under his chin, and she wondered how he’d gotten them. War wounds? Perhaps they were old football injuries or from school-yard antics? Or when he used to work horses with his brother? He’d always looked good in the saddle. She had spent hours pretending to have her nose in a book while she’d watched him ride from the sidelines. At twelve she’d had stars in her eyes. At twenty-seven she felt almost as foolish.

She took a breath and stared at him. “So...what is it?”

“My uncle is seventy-three years old, and I know he has health issues and might not have a lot of time left. I also know that he trusts you.”

“And?” she prompted.

He shrugged one shoulder. “And I was thinking that once he gets to the hospital in Rapid City there will be a whole lot of people there who he doesn’t trust poking and prodding and making judgment calls and decisions about him.”

Lucy stilled. “And?” she prompted again.

“And he’d probably prefer it if you were around to see to things.”

She eyed him shrewdly. “He would?”

His other shoulder moved. “Okay... I would.”

“You want me to go to the hospital with him?”

“Well...yes.”

“I’m not on staff there,” she explained, increasingly conscious of his intense gaze. “I couldn’t interfere with his treatment or be part of his appointments with specialists.”

“I know that,” Brant replied softly, his attention unwavering. “But you could be there to explain things...you know, to make sense of things.”

Lucy drank some tea and then placed the paper cup on the table. “With you?”

He shrugged again. “Sure.”

“Won’t that go against your determination to avoid me and my wicked plans to ensnare you with my white picket fence?”

His eyes darkened. She was teasing him. And Brant Parker clearly didn’t like to be teased.

“This is about my uncle,” he replied, his jaw clenching. “Not us.”

The silly romantic in her wanted to swoon at the way he said the word us. But she didn’t.

“I do have the day off tomorrow,” she said, thinking she was asking for a whole lot of complications by agreeing to his request. But she did genuinely care about Joe Parker.

“So...yes?” he asked.

Lucy nodded slowly. “Sure. I’ll arrange for the ambulance to leave here around nine in the morning and we can follow in my car.”

“I’ll drive. We’ll take my truck.”

Lucy gave in to the laughter she felt. “Boy, you’re predictable. Clearly my little Honda isn’t macho enough.”

“I need to get some building supplies from Rapid City,” he shot back, unmoving. “I don’t think the footrest for the bar that I’m having made will fit in your little Honda, Dr. Monero. Besides the fact that your car is unreliable.”

“I had my car towed and the battery replaced yesterday, so it’s as good as new.” Her cheeks colored. “And I thought we agreed you were going to call me Lucy?”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Did we? Okay, Lucy, I’ll pick you up around nine.”

* * *

His uncle looked much better the following day, but Brant was still pleased he was going to be assessed in Rapid City. He was also pleased that Lucy Monero had agreed to go with him. He knew it was a big favor to ask. But she’d agreed, even when she had every reason not to. He’d acted like a stupid jerk the night she’d broken down outside the tavern.

He waited in the foyer while his uncle was being prepped for the trip in the ambulance, and Lucy sidled up beside him around two minutes past nine. She looked effortlessly pretty in jeans, heeled boots, a bright red sweater that clung to her curves and a fluffy white jacket. Her hair was down, flowing over her shoulders in a way that immediately got his attention.

“You’re late,” he said, grinning fractionally.

“I’ve been here for ages,” she replied and crossed her arms, swinging her tote so hard it hit him on the behind. “Oh, sorry,” she said breathlessly and then smiled. “The ambulance is about to leave, so we should get going.”

Brant rattled his keys. “Okay.”

It was cold out, but at least the snow had stopped falling and the roads were being cleared.

“Once you’ve finished renovating the Loose Moose,” she said when they reached his truck and he opened the creaky passenger door, “you might want to consider giving this old girl an overhaul.”

Brant waited until she was inside and grabbed the door. “Are you dissing my ride?”

She laughed. “Absolutely.”

He shut the door and walked around the front. “That’s cruel,” he said once he slid in behind the wheel and started the engine. “I’ve had this truck since I was sixteen.”

“I know,” she said, and fiddled with the Saint Christopher magnet stuck on the dash. “You bought it off Mitch Culhane for two hundred bucks.”

Brant laughed, thinking about how Grady had gone ballistic when he’d come home with the old truck that was blowing black smoke from the exhaust. The truck hadn’t really been worth a damn back then, but he’d fixed it up some over the years. “How do you know that?”

She shrugged. “I think Brooke told me. We’re friends, remember?”

He nodded. “I know that. She’s another fan of yours.”

“Another?”

“My mom,” he replied, smirking a little. “Patron Saint Lucia.”

Her eyes flashed. “How do you know my real name?” she asked as if it was something she didn’t like.

“I think Brooke told me,” he said then shrugged. “We’re family...remember?”

“Funny guy,” she quipped sweetly. “And I didn’t think the Parkers and Culhanes were friends.”

“Grady and I used to get into some scrapes with the Culhane brothers,” he admitted wryly. “But since we shared a mutual dislike of the O’Sullivans we were friends more often than not.”

“He still shouldn’t have sold you this crappy old truck,” she said. “You took Trudy Perkins to prom in it.”

That’s not all he’d done with Trudy on prom night, he thought, but he wasn’t about to say that to the woman beside him. Trudy had been the wildest girl in their grade back then. And she’d had him wrapped around her little finger. He’d been a typical teenage boy and at the time Trudy had been his every fantasy.

But he’d changed. He didn’t want that now. He wanted...well, he didn’t have a damned clue what he wanted. All he knew was that there was nothing crass or easy about Lucy. She was kind and innocent. The kind of girl his mother approved of. Hell, the kind of girl his mother kept pushing him toward.

“I wonder what happened to Trudy,” he said as he drove from the parking lot.

“She lives in Oregon. She married some rich banker and had three kids. I guess she could be divorced by now.”

Brant glanced sideways. “How do you know this stuff?”

She shrugged. “I’m a doctor. People tell me things.”

“Clearly.”

“Except you wouldn’t, right?” she said and leaned back in the seat. “You keep everything to yourself.”

“Not everything.”

“Everything,” she said again. “Say, if I asked you what you were doing talking with Parker enemy number one, Liam O’Sullivan, the other night, you’d shrug those broad shoulders of yours and say it was just business.”

“Well, it was.”

She laughed softly and the sound hit him in the solar plexus. “When everyone knows he’s trying to buy you out because he hates the idea of competition.”

“Everyone knows that, do they?”

“Sure. He told Kayla and Kayla told me.”

“Kayla?” he inquired. “That’s your friend with the supermodel looks?”

“The one in the same. Every man notices Kayla. She’s the original blonde bombshell.”

Brant made a small grunting sound. “I’ve always preferred brunettes myself.”

She glanced at him and then looked to the road ahead. “Could have fooled me.”

Brant bit back a smile. “It’s true.”

“Trudy was blond,” she said, frowning a little. “Remember?”

“She was brunette,” he replied. “Trudy dyed her hair.”

She snorted. “I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the only fake part.”

Brant wasn’t one to kiss and tell, but the disapproval in Lucy’s voice about the other woman’s surgically enhanced attributes made him smile. “You could be right.”

Lucy Monero had a habit of doing that. Whatever transpired between them, however much he desired her, wanted her, imagined kissing her, there was something else going on, too. Because he liked her. She was sweet and funny and good to be around. A balm for a weary soul. Something he could get used to, if he’d let himself. Not that he would.

“Incidentally,” he said, speaking without his usual reserve. “Don’t confuse my reluctance for disinterest.”

“You really do talk in riddles sometimes,” she said and then gave a soft laugh. “But I least I have you talking.”

She did. In fact, he’d done a whole lot more talking with Lucy than he had with anyone outside his mother and brother and Uncle Joe for the past six months. “Communicating is important to you, isn’t it?”

“People are important to me.”

“I guess they have to be, considering your profession. Is that why you chose to become a doctor?”

She didn’t answer and he glanced toward her and saw her gaze was downcast. She was thinking, remembering. Lost in some secret world of her own for a moment. She looked beautiful and just a little sad.

“No,” she said finally. “It was because of my mom.”

Brant could vaguely recall Katie Monero. She’d spoken with an Irish brogue and had taught dance lessons at the studio above the bakery in town. She’d married an Irish/Italian rancher who’d had no idea about cattle and horses, and who had died when Lucy was an adolescent. The crash that had taken her mother’s life a few years later was a tragic accident. Katie had lost control of her car while a seventeen-year-old Lucy had dozed beside her. Katie had been flung from the car and Lucy had survived with barely a scratch.

“Because of the accident? It wasn’t your fault, though.”

“No,” she said and sighed. “But my mom was alive for over ten minutes before the paramedics arrived. I didn’t know what to do. I went numb. If I had put pressure on the main wound she might have had a chance. But I didn’t know...and I vowed I’d never be in that position again. So I decided to go to medical school and become a doctor. I wanted to know that if I was ever in that position again that I would be able to do things differently.”




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/helen-lacey/lucy-and-the-lieutenant/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.