Tempted by the Soldier

Forgetting the past, facing the future

Stephanie Phillips is sick of charm. And Clint Morgan, the newest resident of Covenant Falls, has it in spades. Stephanie knows she should run the other way because the former Blackhawk pilot is too good-looking, too charismatic…and much too sexy.

As the town veterinarian, Stephanie has truly found her home here. Clint, on the other hand, is staying for only a short time while he recovers from an injury. But when he starts to fit seamlessly into the close-knit community, the irresistible risk-taker makes his way into her heart.

“What are you afraid of?” Clint asked in a low, gentle voice.

Stephanie couldn’t answer. She couldn’t say “you” because that would be admitting there was something there between them, something so strong that she still hadn’t moved when she should be running like hell.

“I don’t want to get involved with anyone,” she finally said.

“Why?”

“You’re here just for a short time,” she said, seeking a more logical reason than fear. “It makes no sense to start something. It’s not…practical.”

His fingers moved to the back of her neck again. “And you’re big on practicality?”

Go. Go. Go…

She swallowed hard, then summoning all the self-control she had left, she moved away from him and stood on trembling legs. “I try to be,” she said in what she feared was not a very convincing tone.

“I don’t give up easily,” he said.

Dear Reader,

When I first envisioned my previous book, The Soldier’s Promise (Mills & Boon Superromance April 2014), and created the fictional Colorado town of Covenant Falls, I thought it would be a stand-alone book, a story about a wounded soldier returning home and a military dog with PTSD and how they healed each other.

But I fell in love with the town and its citizens who believe baked goodies cure all ills, who have an infinite curiosity about newcomers and who band together in times of trouble. From Maude, who runs the diner, to Doc Bradley, the irascible town doctor, they did not want to go quietly into the night.

Most of all, I fell in love with Stephanie, the town’s veterinarian with the big but very cautious heart. It would take a very special guy to break the barriers she’d constructed against the opposite sex, and Clint Morgan, an army helicopter pilot with a mild traumatic brain injury, was just the man to do it as he tried to rebuild his life.

And no story in Covenant Falls would be complete without a cast of animals. Braveheart is back and plays no small part in matchmaking.

Enjoy!

Patricia Potter

Tempted by the Soldier

USA TODAY Bestselling Author

Patricia Potter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

PATRICIA POTTER is a bestselling and award-wining author of more than sixty books. Her Western romances and romantic suspense novels have received numerous awards, including an RT Book Reviews Storyteller of the Year Award, a Career Achievement Award for Western Historical Romance and a Best Hero of the Year Award. She is a seven-time RITA® Award finalist for RWA and a three-time Maggie Award winner. She is a past president of Romance Writers of America. Patricia is also a passionate animal lover, which is reflected in many of her books, but never more so than in her Covenant Falls series. She believes curiosity is the most important trait of any writer, and she’s often led far astray when researching a subject.

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Dedicated to the volunteers in our society, from the volunteer firefighters, to the search-and-rescue teams, to people who deliver meals to the homebound.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

Pueblo, Colorado

FASTER. FASTER. HE ran the gears, his foot heavy as he edged up to ninety miles an hour. The road ahead was straight and empty. Plains stretched in every direction. He relished the power of the used Corvette that had cost him nearly every penny he had and hundreds of hours of work.

The road was perfect for his purpose. Rarely, if ever used, it connected one Texas ghost town to another. A fellow chopper pilot, who was also a car enthusiast, had told him about it. A forty-mile strip of pavement from nowhere to nowhere.

He had finished restoring the car two weeks earlier. In ten days, he would be back in Afghanistan. This was his last chance to put the Corvette through its paces.

The sun danced and shimmered on the pavement ahead. His foot lightened on the gas pedal as the road took a turn and mounted an incline. An old battered truck appeared from nowhere, turning into... He slammed on the brakes...

Clint Morgan, former army warrant officer and military helicopter pilot, jerked awake as the bus stopped. It took him several seconds to realize where he was. Some place going to no place.

“Hey, mister,” the bus driver said. “Your stop.”

Clint reluctantly stepped through the open doors into the first day of the rest of his life.

He was the last passenger to leave the bus, an indication of his total lack of enthusiasm for his new reality. He glanced around. He had been told someone named Josh Manning, also a vet, would meet him at the bus in Pueblo. But Clint saw no former-military-looking guy.

Damn but he hated being dependent on a stranger, even a fellow vet. It was bad enough that occasional blackouts and blinding headaches kept him from driving, but the helplessness he felt now was searing. What in the hell was he doing standing here in the middle of nowhere on a blistering September day?

The other bus passengers quickly dispersed. He was alone with a large duffel at his side. As he contemplated his alternatives, which were few, a van roared onto the street and squeezed into a parking spot. A woman emerged and strode quickly toward him.

“Clinton Morgan?” she asked.

“Clint,” he corrected. This woman did not look like a Josh.

“Sorry to be late,” she said. “I hope you haven’t been here long.” She thrust out her hand. “I’m Stephanie.”

He took her hand, and her grip was as strong as his. She was nearly as tall as his own six feet. No makeup, but then she didn’t seem to need any. Her eyes were a dark blue, and her skin was tanned, the kind that came from working outdoors. Her hair was a mass of unruly rich copper curls, some of which escaped the braid that reached below her shoulders. Clad in jeans and a checkered cotton shirt splotched with dirt, her body was more lean than curved. Athletic.

“I volunteered to pick you up since I was inoculating some cattle not far away,” she continued. “I had a bit of a problem and ran late. Thus, my less-than-suitable chauffeur attire. I had planned to change and wash. I’m afraid I smell like cow and sweat.”

She said it all in a hurry and without apology, although her tone was friendly. Husky. Sexy as hell.

Things were looking up, even if the odor of cow was strong. He was intrigued. She was good-looking now, but add a bit of lipstick and a dress, and she would be striking.

“But a very pretty chauffeur,” he said with a grin that usually had a positive effect on the opposite sex.

The friendliness seeped from her eyes, replaced with something like wariness.

“Is the duffel all your luggage?” she asked, ignoring the compliment. Her question had a definite edge to it.

He felt duly kicked in the rear. “That and my laptop,” he said. “You learn to travel light in the army.”

She started for the duffel, but he beat her to it and hefted it over his shoulder.

Without another word, she led the way to the dusty red van with the words “Langford Animal Practice” on the door. “I hope you don’t mind dog hair,” she said in a businesslike tone. “My dog, Sherry, usually rides with me.”

“Fine with me. It’s not as if I’m going to the opera,” he quipped. “And I like dogs.” He went to the passenger’s side. The door was unlocked and he climbed inside.

“Darn good thing,” he heard her mutter in a barely audible voice.

Before he could respond, she started the van and roared out of the parking lot, obviously ignoring the thirty-miles-per-hour speed-limit sign. He glanced at her, but she concentrated on the road ahead. He admired a good driver, and she was that. He looked at the speedometer. The van had a hundred and fifty thousand plus miles on it, and she was going over the speed limit. Both said something about her.

He felt an immediate kinship. Interest sparked in him, the first since the accident that doomed his military career. He definitely wanted to know more about her. Particularly whether she was already taken. Not that he was interested in any long-term involvement. He sure as hell didn’t have anything to offer a woman. Struggling for conversation—strange as it usually came easier—he asked, “Are you the Langford in Langford Animal Practice?”

She shrugged. “I’m not Langford, but I do own the vet practice or at least the small part that’s paid off. I bought it from Tom Langford and never changed the name on the van. Never really saw a good reason to do it. I’m Stephanie Phillips.”

“Dr. Phillips?”

“No one calls me that. It’s just Stephanie.” Her tone seemed to cut off any other questions.

He took a deep breath and shifted restlessly. He ached to take her place at the wheel. Just as everything in him ached to reach for the controls of a chopper. Ached to be in the house he shared with other chopper pilots on the base or even a tent in Afghanistan. Sitting in a passenger seat, dependent on a driver—even an interesting woman—was his idea of hell.

He stared out at the plains spread out in front of him. Arid desert.

The blurb he had read online called this area of Colorado high desert. To him, it resembled parts of Iraq and Afghanistan. So did the heat.

“Is it always this warm?” he asked.

“This is a bit unusual. It’s usually in the low nineties in July and then starts going down. This year, it’s hanging around. It’s a bit cooler in Covenant Falls. We’re higher, altitudewise, from here, and the town is nestled next to the mountains.” Her tone was cool. It had lost something since he’d said she was pretty.

He shifted uncomfortably in the seat and stared ahead. He had been doing that a lot since leaving the hospital. The journey to Pueblo from Denver had been agonizingly long, or maybe it had just seemed that way. He had been a passenger on a plane, in a car and on a long-distance bus. Brutal. He yearned for his seat in a chopper, in controlling a complex machine that both protected and destroyed. He had been doing both for most of his adult life. Flying was his life. His identity. At gut level, being a pilot was who he was. Who he had been since he was seventeen.

Now he might never fly again. Or even drive a car. Worse, he didn’t have a goal for the first time in his life. A driving force. A purpose.

Stop it!

He was a fighter. Always had been. Since he was eight years old and his stepmother decided she didn’t want him in her house any longer, he’d looked ahead, determined to plot his own path.

“You’ll like the cabin,” Stephanie said, interrupting his thoughts. “Josh did a great job in rehabbing it.”

“I’m not sure how long I’m staying.”

She turned to him and gave him a wry smile. “Neither did Josh when he came. Covenant Falls can get to you.”

“Have you lived there long?”

“Five years, but even if I’d lived there twenty years, I would still be a newcomer. You should know that everyone is rather curious about new residents, and gossip spreads faster than a sky full of locusts.”

Her cell phone rang. The thunderous tone was the theme music from the movie The Magnificent Seven.

She glanced down at it, then steered to the side of the road and stopped the car. Quick questions. Something to do with a cow. When she hung up, she turned to him. “A short detour,” she said.

“Something wrong?”

“An ailing heifer. She’s not far from here. Shouldn’t take more than an hour. Okay?”

“Fine,” he said. He didn’t really have much choice. He was hitching a ride, after all. He was at the driver’s mercy. But he had to ask: “The Magnificent Seven? That’s an interesting ringtone.”

She shrugged.

“Dr. Phillips to the rescue?”

“Stephanie,” she reminded him.

“I beg your pardon,” he replied with a quick grin.

She frowned. “That’s not why I have it. I just like the tune. It’s hard to ignore. Very effective in cutting off conversations.”

Wry humor. It intrigued him. “You like cutting off conversations?”

“Inane ones, yes.”

Well, she had put him in his place. Neatly. Maybe Covenant Falls wouldn’t be as dull as he’d thought it would be. That prick of interest was expanding.

He tried another tactic. “What’s wrong with the cow?” he asked.

She shrugged. “A rancher says one of his heifers isn’t eating, which could mean a number of troubles. All bad. Like I said, the ranch isn’t far from here.”

It was an obvious though unspoken question.

Clint settled back. “I have nothing pressing in mind.”

“Good.” She turned back to the road. “I’ll call Josh and tell him we’ll be late. He’s going to meet us at the cabin to give you the keys and probably tell you the best way to piss off the town. He did a great job when he first came to Covenant Falls.”

Clint grinned. “Are you saying diplomacy is not one of his virtues?”

“You could say that, but he’s learning. Too bad.” There was amusement in her voice again. He was discovering she didn’t go out of her way to be diplomatic, either. He liked that. No bullshit. No false sympathy or concern.

He tried to remember exactly what Dr. Payne had said about the cabin and its owner.

The psychologist hadn’t been very forthcoming about the cabin or his new landlord, although he’d been good at prying into Clint’s life. Dr. Payne’s first visit had been to introduce himself and say he was available. The second had been two weeks before Clint’s discharge. He’d asked about his future plans, and the fact was, Clint had none.

He closed his eyes and thought of their meeting.

“No family?” the shrink had asked, and Clint suspected the man knew he’d had no visitors.

“No,” he said, but his records proved otherwise.

“No support system?”

“I don’t need one. It’s just a headache now and then.”

Dr. Payne stared at him. Waited. “Well, maybe you can do a favor for me, then. A friend of mine, a former patient here, is looking for someone to look after his cabin. He just married and moved in with his wife. He rehabbed the cabin after it was vandalized, and he doesn’t want it to happen again. It’s in a small town with a lot of veterans. You can walk to nearly every business in town, and there’s both a lake and mountains.”

“What’s the rent?”

“Just the utilities. And keeping it in good shape.”

“Where is it?”

“A little town named Covenant Falls in Colorado. It’ll give you time to decide what you want to do...”

Clint suspected there was more to it than that, but hell, he had nowhere else to go and Payne knew it. He couldn’t pilot or drive because of recurring blackouts. His career was over, even if the injury to his brain healed. There were too many young guys coming up behind him. And family? That was opening another can of worms. Despite some doubts, he’d accepted...

“We’re here.” Stephanie turned into a long driveway, drove past a sprawling ranch house and parked in front of the barn. She made a quick phone call, apparently to Josh, explaining there would be a slight delay in reaching the cabin. Then she turned to him. “You can stay inside the van if you want.”

No way. He was damned tired of being passive. He shook his head.

She eyed him speculatively. “Your clothes are a little fancy for a ranch.”

He looked at his chinos and dark blue polo shirt. They were new because he’d lost weight in the hospital. He kind of liked them. He also liked the comfortable loafers. A welcome relief from heavy combat boots. But fancy? Not in his wildest imagination.

Clint stepped out of the van and waited as Stephanie grabbed a medical bag, then they both strode over to a weathered-looking man who walked up to meet them.

“You got new help, Stephanie?” The rancher’s gaze measured Clint.

“Nope,” Stephanie said. “A passenger headed for Covenant Falls. Clint Morgan. A friend of Josh.” She turned to Clint. “This is Hardy Pearson. He breeds the best cattle in this part of Colorado.”

Hardy held out his hand. “The most troublesome, anyway. Good to meet you, son,” he said. Then he turned to Stephanie, his eyes worried.

“She’s in the barn. My best heifer. Hasn’t been eating. I’ve seen this twice before. Pretty sure it’s a twisted stomach.”

“How long since she ate?”

“She didn’t look good yesterday, and I brought her into the barn. I put hay out and she wouldn’t have any part of it. Can’t tell you how unusual that is.”

“Did she calve recently?”

“Three months ago.”

The questions and answers came quick. Clint observed the trust between the rancher and Stephanie. She was all efficiency as she threw him one question after another. He followed as Hardy led the way into a big barn where a large cow was tethered by a rope halter to a post. The animal stood on a pile of hay. Stephanie retrieved a stethoscope from the medical bag and examined the heifer’s stomach.

She glanced up at Hardy, “You were right. It’s a twisted stomach. The ping is definitely there. There’s a lot of gas.”

Hardy sighed. “What do you recommend?”

She hesitated. “I think we should roll her stomach. It might not work, and it could be dangerous for the heifer, but the alternatives are worse.”

“An operation would be just as dangerous, wouldn’t it?

She nodded. “And expensive.”

“Let’s roll ’er.”

“You got anyone else who can help?” she asked.

He shook his head. “My son’s at a cattle auction. And my wife’s been ailing.”

Two sets of eyes focused on Clint. He sensed that wasn’t a good thing.

“Sorry to hear that,” Stephanie said to Hardy even as she studied Clint. After a few seconds, she asked, “You game to help?”

“Help how?” he asked cautiously.

“Roll over that heifer. Putting it simply, she’s got three stomachs and one of them is in the wrong place. If it isn’t fixed, she’ll die.”

He hesitated, then shrugged. “What do I do?”

“We use some ropes to get her down. Then you help Hardy hold her down while I palpate her and move the wayward stomach into its rightful place. Then I suture it. Okay?”

He met her challenging gaze, then studied the cow. It was a damned big animal. Hell, he didn’t have anything to lose. He nodded. “I’m a city boy, but I’ll give it a go.”

She hesitated, tilting her head to the right. “Is there any medical reason you shouldn’t?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Hardy will help, but this really takes three bodies.” She looked at the old man. “Have a pair of muck boots he can use?”

The rancher nodded and hurried inside the house, returning with a pair of worn, heavy rubber boots. “Here, son, try these. Don’t want to get those new shoes messed up.”

Clint regarded the boots warily. Well, he’d worn worse. He removed his shoes and replaced them with the boots. What in the hell had he gotten himself into?

Stephanie crouched and ran her hands over the heifer’s belly. “We’ll do this together, girl,” she whispered. “You’ll feel better. Trust me.”

Her voice was surprisingly soft and gentle, and her hands stroked the cow’s stomach soothingly. Clint found himself envying the animal.

Stephanie and Hardy unwound a rope. She ran it under the cow and Hardy passed the end to Clint. Stephanie pulled it tight under the cow while Hardy stood at its side.

“We want to flip the heifer on its back,” she said.

Clint wasn’t sure about that. But when she said “flip,” he flipped the rope and felt a certain satisfaction when the heifer landed on her back.

Clint dodged two back hoofs.

“Tie them together and hold them,” Stephanie said. She palpated the stomach, then nodded to Hardy. “Place a knee on the abdomen. Not there, to the right. A little more to the right. Good.”

It took all of Clint’s strength to tie and hold on to the rear legs of a very unhappy and very big cow as Stephanie scrubbed an area of the stomach with what smelled like disinfectant. She gave the heifer a shot. “Antibiotic,” she explained. “And a local anesthesia. We should wait a few minutes until it starts to work. Can you two keep her in this position?”

Hardy nodded. Clint wasn’t so sure. The heifer wasn’t happy. She wanted up. He couldn’t blame her. It was an indelicate position. He dodged flailing legs. Barely. A damaged chopper was easier to hold steady than this cow.

After what seemed hours, Stephanie pulled on fresh medical gloves and took a deep breath. He remembered what she said about the procedure being dangerous.

She nodded at him. “Keep her steady.”

Hell of a lot easier said than done. She made a small, quick incision. Clint gagged as a nauseating odor escaped from the cow’s stomach, practically suffocating him. It was as bad a smell as any he’d experienced in Afghanistan. He held the cow’s legs tighter. He might not be able to do a lot of things, but, by damn, he could hold on to a cow. Hardy, a man twice his age and more, was doing just fine with his knee on the cow’s abdomen.

Stephanie palpated the heifer’s stomach, then sutured the wound before standing. She nodded to Hardy and turned to Clint. “You can let her go.”

As he did, the cow scrambled up, and before Clint could move out of the way, it stepped hard on the instep of his left foot. He fell, sprawling in the hay as his foot exploded in pain. “Damn!” The cow relieved herself on Clint’s leg, mooed indignantly and ambled away as if nothing had happened.