“Is…is that why you’re in town?” Constance asked, ignoring the man’s ridiculous question while withdrawing her hand. She gestured toward his left leg, which, judging by the odd angle at which he held it, he seemed to favor.
Never had she been so glad for the protective cover of sunglasses so he wouldn’t see her gaping at the man he’d become. Garret had always been a big boy, but now…
Her mouth went dry, trying so very hard to forget their last few days—and nights—together.
Now…Garret Underwood was all man.
Even slouching as he was in one of his mom’s feminine wicker chairs, there was no hiding the sinewy strength lurking beneath the too-tight sleeves of his camo-green T-shirt. His chest and shoulders were broad, his chiseled facial features and molasses eyes stone cold. Even his dark, spiky, short hair looked foreboding, as though any warmth he might’ve once had toward her was long gone and never coming back.
His only answer to her question about his leg was “Yep.”
“How long have you been back?” she asked, forging ahead not because she wanted to, but because her boss had given her no choice. As a single mom, she had responsibilities that went far beyond what she wanted to do. In making sure Lindsay was always comfortable and happy, Constance had mastered the sometimes tough art of doing what she had to. Period. Yes, talking to Garret was awkward, but it had to be done. Which was why she was now sucking it up and trying to make the best of what he had apparently decided to make an untenable situation.
“Too long.”
Maintaining a polite front, she said, “It was, um, lovely talking with you the other afternoon. Assuming that was you who called my show?”
“You know damned well it was me, and how ’bout we skip the small talk and get straight to business.” He straightened with catlike ease that belied his apparent injury. “Why are you here?”
“Nice to see you, too,” she said, glancing away from him to the far-off garden where his mother staked tomatoes. A bee hummed nearby, close enough for Constance to hear, but not give her an excuse to run.
He just stared.
“All right,” she said with a sigh. “If that’s how you want it. Truth is, this is the last place I want to be, but that big mouth of yours has me over a barrel.”
Wishing he’d had the foresight to grab his sunglasses before heading out to the porch, Garret winced. As much as he despised the cheating wench, he still wanted her with a biting clarity he hadn’t felt since…
Well, since the last time he’d seen her ten years ago.
“And…” he said, coaxing her to continue with his hands, wanting more than ever to be a million miles from this town, but most especially, this woman.
“And—” she notched her proud chin higher “—as much as it pains me to say it, I need you.” Head bowed, she slipped off her jumbo glasses, allowing him a sight he doubted she wanted him to see. Her big blue eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, as if she’d spent the night crying. Why?
“The only way I can keep my job is if you agree to guest star on my show. Apparently—” she cleared her throat “—the fine folks of Mule Shoe prefer you over me.”
Judging by her defeated posture, she believed what she’d just said.
What? He hadn’t for a second thought her tears had been about him, had he?
“Seems to me,” he said, telling himself he didn’t care if her show was tanking, “what folks like isn’t so much me, but conflict. Something they don’t get a lot of when it comes to your show’s usual fare.”
“So you’re an expert?” she said, bristling.
“Mom’s your biggest fan. In the time I’ve sat around here healing, I’ve heard enough of your show to realize you’re a more effective sleep aid than a case of NyQuil.”
Scowling, shaking her head, she said, “Apparently, the years we’ve been apart haven’t been kind. They’ve turned you into a jerk.”
Bracing his hands on the rocker’s arms, Garret sprang to his feet, too late remembering he just happened to be short one leg, leaving him wobbling. Reaching for support in the form of soft curves.
Must’ve been instinct that had her reaching out to help, because judging by her forked tongue, she didn’t hold him in high regard. Tsk-tsking, he shook his head. “You must not be too ferocious, otherwise, you’d have let me fall.”
After swiftly releasing him, then delivering one last glare, she turned, marching across the porch and down the stairs.
When she’d reached the brick sidewalk, he called, “After what you did—sleeping with my best friend, having his kid—it’ll be a cold day in hell before I help you, Connie.”
Her sexy derriere still to him, she froze.
“You and Nathan…”
That made her spin back around, blue eyes flashing fire. “That part of my life’s ancient history.”
Scratching his jaw, he chuckled.
“Notice, I’m not laughing,” she said.
As if he cared.
“Garret, come on. Lose the chip on your shoulder. What happened with Nathan might as well be a million years ago. I need this job and, according to my boss, getting you in the studio is the only way I get to keep it.”
Arms crossed while he leaned against a porch post, he said, “No.”
“You’ve changed,” she said, scavenging through a bedraggled black leather purse, then drawing out keys. “I used to carry a soft spot for you, asking for your safekeeping every night in my prayers, but no more. After turning down my request without even considering it, for all I care, the devil can have you.”
While she stormed across the driveway, this time apparently not caring if gravel gnawed her shoes, Garret laughed. Ironic how he’d just been lamenting that he never had any fun, when the best entertainment he’d had in years had just magically appeared.
Tottering inside for that beer, taking a moment in the living room to let his eyes adjust from bright sun to gloom, Garret had to wonder himself what’d led him to flat-out turn her down.
Truth? Lovely though Constance still was, he couldn’t stand the sight of her. In his whole life, no one had ever done him so wrong. He’d loved her. Believed with everything in him she’d loved him, too. He shouldn’t have even been listening to her stupid show, but with his mom blaring it every afternoon, Constance’s raspy bedroom voice was hard to ignore.
Dammit, he thought, hobbling into the kitchen, yanking open the fridge. Cool air washed over him, cleansing the heat just looking at her had brought on. From the moment Constance had stepped those long, long legs up onto his mama’s porch, he’d been back to exorcising demons. Rehashing what might’ve been.
Popping the top on a longneck Coors, relishing that first endless swig, Garret sadly came to grips with the fact that no matter how hard he’d tried, no woman had ever done it for him like her.
There. He’d admitted it.
And fire hadn’t fallen from the sky.
The world wasn’t about to end.
Only the very notion was nuts. In his line of work, gorgeous women came on to him every time he came up for air. But while a surprising number of his friends had snagged those women, then married them and the whole nine yards, Garret wanted no part of it. If he didn’t know better, he’d say whatever happened between him and Constance had been like slow-acting relationship poison. Oh, make no mistake, he loved women in all shapes and sizes, but as far as surrendering his heart and soul to one?
After another swig of beer, he chuckled. He’d already tried that and it hadn’t worked out.
“LONG TIME NO SEE.”
From her place in the feed store’s lengthy Saturday-afternoon line, Constance jumped, turning to see what oddly familiar-sounding man had crooned the words in her right ear. “You,” she said, eyeing Garret.
“Not happy to meet again?” he asked. Even favoring one leg, he’d managed to sling a fifty-pound feed bag over his shoulder. He wore khaki cargo pants and another camo-green T-shirt that clung to his chest the way she used to.
She flashed him a half smile, wishing that two years earlier when Lindsay had asked for a live bunny for Easter, she’d said no. If she had, she wouldn’t now be stuck in line waiting to pay for bunny chow.
“Missed me that much, have you?” His words were spoken low enough that only she could hear over the bustling crowd of at least fifteen talkative old geezers and two crying babies. A blaring Conway Twitty song and a baying hound out in the bed of Tom Neilson’s truck added to the chaos.
Shoulders straight, she said, “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Funny, seeing how there’s plenty I’d like to say to you.” He followed her when it came time to move up in line. “Town gossip says your boss is out of town and you need me to agree to your request before he gets back. A million years ago, I’d’ve done damn near anything for you. Now…” He looked her up and down, his gaze so hot it left her chilled. “I’m not as charitable.”
She made the mistake of glancing over her shoulder to gape, only to catch him wink. From there on out, she kept her mouth shut and carefully stared straight ahead.
Who’d told Garret Felix had left?
Oh, who was she kidding? In a town the size of Mule Shoe, Felix and his wife attending a Vegas broadcasting convention was big news.
They moved up in line again, only instead of Garret vanishing from her world and prospering elsewhere, as per Connie’s wishes, he doggedly kept behind her. Did he have to smell so good? Like earth and wind and sweat and sea—which was stupid, really, seeing how smack-dab in the center of Oklahoma, there wasn’t a whole lot of sea in sight!
“Hey, Miss Manners,” Harvey, the store owner and checkout clerk, called when mercifully, it was Constance’s turn at the register. “How’s Lindsay’s bunny brigade doing? She ever unload all those babies?”
“She, um, sure did—all but one she couldn’t bear to part with.”
“Yep,” he said with a friendly chuckle. “Reminds me of my own girls. Just be grateful your little one doesn’t have an affinity for horses. Now there’s some real money.”
“Don’t I know it,” Constance said, pulling out her wallet, thankful not only that her daughter preferred small livestock, but that she was almost free of Garret.
Harvey finished ringing up Lindsay’s Vitakraft Rabbit Menu and Funny Bunny Fruit Bites, then said, “That’ll be $14.68.”
She opened her wallet, only to find herself short the $4.68. “Um…” Something would have to go back. She’d thought she still had fifteen left from buying groceries that morning, but she’d forgotten she’d had to buy toothpaste and floss, which had forced her to make a last-minute stop at the drugstore. Eyeing the bunny treats, she picked up the brightly colored bag. “Without these, how much?”
“Here,” Garret said, slapping a five on the counter.
“Thank you, but no,” Constance said, as if his money were contaminated, plucking it up with her thumb and forefinger, then turning to hold it out to him.
“Oh, come on,” he said. “My money’s just as good as anyone else’s. And anyway, I’m not buying that rabbit candy for you, but your kid.”
“She doesn’t need your charity.”
“Look,” Garret said under his breath, leaning forward to talk in her ear. “Just because you and I have issues, don’t punish her. I like kids. Take the money.”
Harvey stood staring, then put his fingers to his lips and nodded. “I know you. You’re Ben Underwood’s boy. Aren’t you a Navy SEAL?”
“Yessir.”
“I’ll be damned. Shoot, your money’s no good here, son. Constance, you just run on along, and take those treats with you. I know times are tough, so you tell that little angel of yours to stop by after school Monday and she can sweep the back room to pay for this.”
“Th-thank you,” she said, hustling to remove not just her purchases but herself. “I’ll be sure Lindsay’s here.”
“Sounds real good,” Harvey said with a wave before turning back to Garret. “Son, it’s good to have you home. And just as soon as this line clears out, how about us swapping stories? If you remember, I put time in myself back in ’44 and ’45. I was there when we crossed the Rhine. And did you know…”
Outside, safe in bright sun, Constance dared to breathe.
It’d been bad enough running into Garret like that, but then running out of money, and Garret offering to buy a gift for their daughter.
Their daughter…
Hands shaking so badly she could hardly open the door of her tan ’92 Civic, let alone ease the keys into the ignition once she’d set her purchases on the passenger side, Constance forced air into her lungs. All those years ago she’d made her bed the second she’d allowed Garret into it.
Leaning forward, she dropped her head against the steering wheel, praying Harvey kept Garret occupied with war stories for at least fifteen to twenty minutes.
How had her life come to this?
Constantly wondering if someday Garret would tire of playing G.I. Joe, then swoop in to take the only thing in her life worth having—her precious little girl—was Constance’s worst nightmare. The mere thought of Lindsay going through the same hell she had as a child in being torn between two parents was inconceivable. Not to mention a huge part of the reason that, to this day, Constance had so closely guarded her secret.
The air in the car was stiflingly hot, even with the windows down; the air-conditioning had gone out last summer. Over the winter, she’d hoped to find funds to fix it, but then the house’s hot water heater had died, so who knew when she’d have cash for luxuries like cool air?
Nathan, her ex-husband but continued confidant and close friend, had on numerous occasions offered to loan her money or just outright pay for whatever she or Lindsay had needed, but with each new offer, she’d politely but firmly turned him down. He’d been a doll all those years ago to help her out of what at the time had seemed an insurmountable problem. Never did she want to burden him again.
A decade ago, the three of them—Garret, Nathan and she—had been great friends. Then she and Garret moved beyond friendship. Suddenly, pregnant, scared and refusing to bog down Garret’s life by telling him of the baby, she’d confided in Nathan, hoping he’d have suggestions for what she should do. Never had she expected him to propose marriage!
Though her initial reaction had been a swift hug and an equally speedy refusal, he’d explained that as a lifelong friend, he loved Garret, too. He wanted him to follow his dreams. Garret was too young to be burdened with a kid. When Constance had pointed out so was Nathan, he’d brought up the practical matter of his healthy trust fund. A baby and wife would be no financial burden. As for the demands on his time, he’d begged her to let him do this. Not just as a favor to her, but to Garret. Years later Nathan had admitted he loved her—had always loved her. He’d hoped she’d feel the same, but how could she when Garret had already claimed her heart?
Of course, in retrospect, Constance saw the mistake she’d made in keeping Lindsay from Garret all these years. But seeing a problem and knowing how to fix it were two different things.
Not long into her and Nathan’s marriage, when Constance still slept in her own bed, dreaming of one day reuniting with Garret, Nathan had been kind enough to see her through her pregnancy. Shortly thereafter, when she’d caught glimpses of sadness and regret in Nathan’s eyes, she’d released him from what he’d believed a lifelong obligation. As much as she adored Nathan as a friend, she wanted him to experience the same joy she and Garret had fleetingly found.
A thump on the car’s roof made her jump.
She looked sharply up only to have the knot in her stomach tighten. Garret stood alongside her and, judging by the rich scent of grain, that thump had been him resting the feed bag on top of her car.
“Would you mind?” she barked. “That rough paper’s no doubt scratching my paint.”
He laughed. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, sweetie, but judging by this scratched-all-to-hell side panel and that crunched front right fender, your ride’s got a lot bigger issues than a wee scratch to the roof.”
“That’s not the point,” she said. “You can’t just go around tossing feed bags on top of women’s cars.”
“Would it be all right to toss other things up there?”
The question was so ludicrous, the look on his sinfully handsome mug so sincere, she couldn’t stop the grin tugging the corners of her mouth. “Go away.”
“I will, but first, answer me one thing.”
“What?”
“Mom said you and Nathan didn’t work out. He not paying child support?”
“What is it with you and outrageous questions? I thought the army taught respect?”
“Yeah, but I’m in the Navy.” He winked. “So? Want me to teach Nathan a lesson on how real men are responsible for those they marry and bring into this world?”
“No,” she said, ramming on the ignition. “I thought—and I quote—’it’d be a cold day in hell’ before you did me any favors? Besides which, having you talk to Nathan is the last thing I need.”
“True, I said that. But my chat with your ex would be for your little girl. Seems to me after what just happened in there, she needs help from someone in getting the child support that’s rightfully hers. Might as well be me.”
“Stay out of it,” she said. “And whatever you do, stay away from Nathan.”
AFTER AN AWKWARD, silent dinner with his mother, then a polite hour of TV watching, Garret now found himself back on the front porch sitting in a too-small rocker. Crickets chirped. The smell of damp earth from the freshly watered garden mingled with the sweet scent of potted petunias lining the porch.
Outside, all was calm, so why, inside, did Constance’s request for help still haunt him?
Why did he care what happened with her job or Nathan?
It was a simple issue of right and wrong. Lots of times during grueling runs and missions, he’d had too much time to think, playing out scenarios, what-if dioramas of his life.
When his mom had told him Constance had had a quickie wedding to Nathan—probably because she was pregnant—Garret had wondered what if she’d gotten pregnant with his child? Lindsay could’ve been his. Lord knew they’d been careless enough. What twist of fate had made Lindsay Nathan’s instead of his little girl?
How would Garret’s life have been different?
His dream of entering the Navy was a noble kid fantasy. But if he’d discovered Constance had been carrying his child, he’d have no doubt followed in his father’s footsteps and been a lawyer. Sure, school would’ve been tough with a wife and kid, but he’d have managed. He still would’ve lived out his life fighting for the good guys.
So why had Nathan and Constance broken up?
Nathan had initially hidden his feelings for Connie well, but Garret had on more than one occasion suspected his supposed best friend of having a thing for her. Could anyone blame him? She’d been the school beauty. Their graduating class had numbered just under seventy, and though there’d been plenty of pretty girls, Constance had held most every title: Homecoming Queen, Miss Mule Shoe High, Head Cheerleader, Most Likely to Succeed. Nathan’s folks owned the biggest ranch for miles around, and Nathan had every toy imaginable. Every toy that is, except for the hottest girl.
What had ultimately driven Nathan to betray their friendship by making a play for Constance, Garret would never know. Just as he’d never know what she’d seen in Nathan to have run off with him. Another thing about Connie bugged Garret—why hadn’t she gone to college? Sure, she’d had the baby, but lots of women had children and still went to school. It wasn’t as if money would’ve been an issue, seeing how Nathan’s folks were well-off.
Swiping his fingers through his hair, Garret stared into the night, wishing his stupid leg would heal. Wishing even more that it’d never broke. That way, he could’ve come home to see his mom for Christmas—or even better, as he’d mostly done since leaving, sent her a plane ticket to somewhere with a beach where they could both meet up, away from gut-wrenching memories of what might’ve been.