Lucy and The Lieutenant

“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.

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