A Maverick for the Holidays Read online

  “This is almost smothering,” he said and downed the pills and orange juice.

  “It’s a caring friend,” she corrected. “Now relax.”

  Moments later, she delivered a delicious omelet with buttered toast on the side. He surprised himself with how much he consumed.

  “How did that happen?” he asked. “I didn’t think I could eat that much.”

  “I had a feeling you might wake up hungry this morning,” she said with a self-satisfied expression.

  “How did you know?” he demanded.

  “You weren’t eating the way you should when you first got sick. When you stopped feeling quite so bad, you got hungry again,” she said.

  “How would you know that when you never get sick?” he asked.

  “Instinct,” she said and picked up his nearly empty plate. “You’ll be ready for a nap soon.”

  “How do you know that?” he asked.

  “Do you really need to ask?” she asked.

  “Instinct,” he said, refusing to admit that he already felt drowsy. “That’s bull.”

  “So right,” she said. “You want to watch TV in your bedroom?”

  He scowled. “I’m not going to sleep.”

  She nodded. “That’s fine. Would you like something else to drink?”

  He realized he was being cranky and ungrateful when he had every reason to be happy and thankful. “I think I’ll watch TV in the bedroom.”

  He could see that she was determined to keep her face a blank palette. “That will work. It’s best for you to be comfortable.”

  “I won’t be there long,” he told her as he walked to the bedroom. “I’ll go down to check out the horses in just a little while.”

  She nodded. “Yes. Of course you will.”

  Forrest slid under his covers with his hand on the remote control. He watched the morning news and suddenly he fell asleep. Or into a coma.

  Hours later, he awakened with the television on mute. His throat ached slightly. He wondered where the hell the time had gone.

  Rising from his bed, he took a quick sip of water and walked toward the den where he heard the sound of a television. She glanced up at him. “Hey, how are you?”

  “You gave me a sleeping pill,” he accused her.

  She shook her head. “No way. You just relaxed enough to doze. That was all.”

  He frowned.

  “Before that, you were fighting the virus. Now, you’re catching up with your rest.”

  He shot her a glance full of doubt. “Sounds like bull to me.”

  “You needed the sleep. Believe it or not, my being here helped you relax. I was your warrior woman.”

  He rolled his eyes. “If that isn’t the biggest bunch of—”

  “The important thing is that you rested. Would you like some soup now?”

  Forrest’s stomach growled.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” she said and rose from the sofa. “Have a seat. I’ll bring you some apple cider while you wait.”

  A moment later, she brought him a mug of cider. He took a sip and relished the warmth on his throat. A bit later, she brought him a steaming bowl of chicken soup. He immediately abandoned the cider for the soup. He spooned the soup into his mouth and groaned in relief. The second spoonful bathed his throat again.

  “This is so good,” he muttered and downed more.

  After several more spoonfuls, Forrest finished the soup and leaned his head back against the sofa. A few seconds passed, and he looked up at Angie.

  “How the hell did I get so tired?”

  “Your body is fighting an infection,” she said. “We just need to help it. How do you feel now?”

  “Like I need a nap,” he said. “But if I go to sleep now, I won’t be able to sleep later.”

  She nodded. “Okay. Let’s go for a walk, then.”

  He paused then nodded. “I’m game.”

  They bundled up and trudged through the snow to the stables. Forrest gave the horses fresh water. “They need to be ridden or they’ll get green, but I’m not the guy for that right now,” he said as he rubbed the muzzle of one of the horses. “Antonia does a great job with these guys, but she just had a baby and the weather has made things even more tough. I may have to give my brother a nudge to ride these babies more often.”

  “Do you miss riding them?” she asked.

  “I miss everything I used to be able to do without thinking twice,” he said, rubbing the horse again. “At the same time, I’m damn grateful I can walk. I’m grateful I’m living.”

  Angie met his gaze. “I am, too,” she said.

  His gut clenched at her expression and he glanced at her then looked back at the horse. “Sometimes it’s hard not to think about the guys who didn’t make it,” he said as faces of those who had died traveled through his mind.

  “I can’t begin to imagine,” Angie said.

  Forrest nodded. “Yeah, I get frustrated. I can get cranky. But I know I’m damn lucky. I’m alive.”

  Angie slid her arm over his. “I’m glad you’re alive. I think you underestimate your effect on others.”

  “There’s a weird pressure I feel to fix things,” he said. “If it’s wrong, I need to make it right.”

  “Like you did with Joey,” she said. “And I’ve pushed you into helping me.”

  He thought about how withdrawn he’d been before Angie had burst into his life. “Could have been worse.”

  She nodded. “I think we could say that the rest of our lives.”

  He nodded. “Yeah,” he said, remembering that she had lost both of her parents by the time she was a teenager.

  “Time to go back,” she said. “More soup and you’ll be headed for la-la land.”

  “I need to stay awake a little longer,” he said.

  “I’ll do what I can,” she said. “Maybe some tap dancing or a rerun of Project Runway.”

  “The latter would be torture,” he said.

  “But if I asked your opinion or promised a quiz at the end of the show, you would be forced to stay awake,” she said as they walked outside the barn toward the boardinghouse.

  “If you were a cruel woman,” he said.

  “Cruel?” she said. “But you want me to keep you awake.”

  “It’s a quandary,” he said.

  “Well, I suppose I could slap you,” she said. “Would you like that?”

  “Not really,” he said. “But Project Runway could feel like sixty slaps.”

  “Sucks to be you,” she said and brushed a kiss against his cheek.

  He met her gaze. “Not really,” he said and they walked in the front door.

  The blast of warmth hit Angie as they entered the den. “Even I would fall asleep in this nice cozy temperature.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, we’re going to have to play charades or something to stay awake,” she said. “Or maybe we could go for another walk.”

  “After more of your soup,” he said.

  Forrest almost nodded off in his soup.

  “One more walk,” she said, giving him a nudge as his eyes closed.

  “You’re a hard woman,” he said as she handed him his jacket.

  “You’ll thank me in the morning,” she told him. “You may often have a hard time falling asleep, but you won’t tonight.”

  He pushed his hands through the sleeves of his jacket and they walked outside. She watched him suck in a quick, harsh breath.

  “Damn cold,” he said.

  “But beautiful,” she said, looking up at the sky. It looked like an endless indigo carpet of diamonds. “This is one of the great things about Montana. Big sky, night or day.”

  He looked up and nodded. “You’re right.”

  He took another breath, but this one seemed deeper and easier.

  “How do you like that crunchy snow?” she asked.

  “I need to get used to it,” he said as they walked toward the driveway. “We won’t get a thaw for a long time.”


  “Oh, we could get an early thaw, but it would be a fake-out,” she said. “The second we relax...”

  “It would snow again,” he said and stopped to look up at the moon again. “I remember seeing that same moon while I was in Iraq. I didn’t feel the same about it then. The moon kept us from hiding. The moon revealed our position to the enemy.”

  “But now, it’s beautiful,” she said. “Now you don’t need to hide or worry about concealing your position from the enemy.”

  She felt him take an easy inhalation. “Being with you makes me look at the world in a different way. Being with you makes me remember the good things about the sun and the moon and the stars.”

  His words grabbed at her heart. “I’m glad,” she said. “And I’m hoping I can bore you enough to sleep the whole night through.”

  Chapter Seven

  Forrest awakened the next morning after dawn. By the slant of the sun through the window curtain, he suspected it was way after dawn. He inhaled deeply and was pleased that it wasn’t still dark. Angie had worn him out. Thank goodness.

  He assessed his body from head to toe and noticed he didn’t hurt all over. Just his leg ached. His usual good-morning wake-up call since the IED had changed his life and taken others.

  Slowly rising, he was relieved that he didn’t have a fever. He knew without Angie touching his forehead or belly. Although, he damn well would have welcomed her touch, despite the fact that he shouldn’t.

  Forrest went to the shower, the hot water soothed him at the same time it refreshed him. He forced himself to turn it off and exit the shower. Cool air rushed over his naked body. He shaved his two-day-old beard and rinsed his face with cold water. Rubbing deodorant under his arms, he pulled on a T-shirt and underwear and left the bathroom.

  The air in the house was still cool which made it easy for him to pull on his jeans and a cotton sweater. He remembered the days when he’d awakened to dress in his uniform. Now, he had a different purpose. Forrest wasn’t always sure what that purpose was, but he was working on it. Every day, he was working on it. Every day, he was sucked into new ways of making a difference. Back in Iraq, he’d never dreamed of what civilians back home needed other than his military service. Now, he was up-front with all the messy problems of life in the States.

  In some ways, civilians had it harder than the military. The army dealt with the immediate threat of wartime. Civilians faced everyday threats: illness, financial difficulty, crappy weather, undependable cars. Daily life took more persistence. War could take a life in a moment. A tour of duty in Iraq lasted twelve to fifteen months at the most. A tour of duty in civilian life could last forever.

  He did a light workout then decided he needed to go into town. He’d been cooped up too long in the rooming house. Cabin fever. His brother and Antonia would arrive home later in the day. He drove his truck into town and grabbed a cappuccino. The sugar gave him an extra boost of energy. The barista was extra friendly, but he was focused on the caffeine and sugar.

  He sat down at a table and looked out the window. The sun shone brightly, but the temperature was so cold the snow wouldn’t be melting any time soon. Forrest was glad he’d brought his sunglasses. From his peripheral vision, he saw the barista put a piece of paper on his table. He didn’t pick it up, but saw her name and phone number. Danielle, he saw.

  Somehow, he wasn’t the least bit tempted. Instead of Danielle, he saw Angie with her big brown eyes. Angie, with the big hugs and bigger heart.

  Forrest swore under his breath. Lord help him, he couldn’t look at another woman without thinking of Angie. What was he supposed to do now?

  He remembered walking in the moonlight with her last night. His leg had ached like a mother, but she had chatted on and on, until finally, they’d walked back to the rooming house.

  Moments after they’d arrived, she’d encouraged him to change into his bedclothes. Soon after, she’d told him to go to bed. Seconds later, he’d fallen asleep.

  The young barista flitted beside his table again. “Call me,” she said in a low voice.

  “Can’t,” he said, unwilling to lead her on. “I’m out on parole. I have to go back to the big house this afternoon.”

  The blonde blinked at him. “The big house?”

  “Yeah, but maybe after I get out for good,” he said.

  She bit her lip. “That’s okay. Have a nice day.”

  Forrest chuckled under his breath as he left. He took his cappuccino and returned to his truck. He decided to see if Angie was at the college library and drove into the parking lot. Sure enough, her truck was there. So, despite the fact that she’d been taking care of him, she’d still needed to take care of her studies.

  Forrest walked to a different coffee shop one block over and bought a cappuccino for Angie then returned to the college library. Strolling inside, he searched for Angie, but had to walk all the way to the back to find her.

  “Hiya,” she said when she saw him.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked and set the coffee cup next to her.

  “Wrapping up a few things,” she said and took the lid off the cup and sniffed it. Her face was the picture of ecstasy. “Heaven,” she said. “This is heaven.”

  “Or, you’re just desperate,” he said with a chuckle. “How long have you been here?”

  “Two hours. I took a nap after I got home from seeing you.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you should be studying?” he asked.

  “It’s all about priorities. You needed to get well,” she said.

  He shot her a disapproving look. “I’m well. Look at me.”

  “Bet you’ll need a nap by late afternoon,” she said.

  “You’re a pain in the butt,” he said. “What can I do for you? Looks like you’ve got an assignment to complete.”

  “I do,” she said. “You’ve already done enough. I love the smell of this cappuccino, and I’m really going to love the taste of it. So go home and rest.”

  “I’m too bored for that,” he said.

  She raised her eyebrows. “Well, now we’re too bored,” she said with a smile.

  He smothered a grin. “I am.”

  “I’ll bore you even more if you stay. Plus I won’t be able to concentrate with Mr. Hot G.I. Joe sitting next to me.”

  He gave a slow grin. “You’re good for my ego.”

  “You’re bad for my concentration,” she said. “Shoo.”

  “Shoo?” he echoed as if the word didn’t compute.

  “Shoo,” she said. “As in fly. As in I’ll never get my work done if you stay. But come back in three hours if you’re not busy.”

  “We’ll see,” he said and left the library, feeling her staring at his back.

  Three hours later, Angie greeted him by clapping her hands together. “I. Am. Done.” She turned to beam at him. “I can’t believe I did it.” She stood up. “Yay. Yay. Yay. Now, tell me. Did you stay awake that entire time or did you take a nap?”

  “Awake the whole time,” he said, scowling.

  “Hey, I would have taken a nap if I could have. How did you stay awake?”

  “Top secret military methods,” he said.

  She leaned toward him. “Spill.”

  “Stuck my head out the car window. Rubbed snow on my face,” he said.

  She laughed. “Oh, there’s nothing secret about that. Let’s celebrate.”

  “How?” he asked.

  She lowered her voice. “Vegas, baby,” she said with an outrageous gleam in her eyes.

  He felt his gut clench. She was getting to him. He’d tried to keep himself distant from her, but after she’d come to the rooming house when he’d felt like crap, he couldn’t stay away from her.

  “You’ve never been to Vegas,” he guessed.

  “All the more reason that I should go,” she said with a smile. “But my second choice is ice cream.”

  He shot her a sideways glance. “It’s freezing,” he said.

  “I want a hot fudge
sundae.”

  He nodded. “Game on. Nuts or not?”

  “I want it loaded,” she said in a sexy voice.

  Forrest wanted to give it to her loaded, but at the moment she was talking about ice cream. He would pull back after today, he promised. Tomorrow. Definitely tomorrow.

  * * *

  Moments later, they entered the doughnut/ice cream parlor and Angie placed her order. “Two scoops, one vanilla, one chocolate, hot fudge sauce, nuts, whipped cream and two cherries.”

  The server smiled. “And you, sir?”

  “Vanilla soft serve in a sugar cone,” he said.

  Angie stared at him in disapproval. “Vanilla?”

  “Simple pleasures are the best,” he said.

  “But vanilla?”

  “It’s always been my favorite. It’s come in handy when only one flavor is available.”

  “But the sugar cone is a major treat,” she said.

  “Yeah. The sugar cone is rare. And I’ll be drinking coffee in a couple hours to recover from the sugar dump.”

  “Well, don’t choke down that sugar cone just for me,” she said with a laugh.

  He lifted his eyebrow. “You’re tough.”

  “I make it hard to be righteous, Major, don’t I?” she said when the server handed her the loaded sundae. She stuck her spoon in it and then put it in her mouth. “Mmm.”

  He felt a rush of heat spread through his body. Her mouth was damn tempting and he shouldn’t be tempted. More importantly, he shouldn’t act on his temptation. Angie just reminded him that he was a man. With needs. But she was the wrong kind of woman. He shouldn’t and wouldn’t take advantage of her.

  “Yes, you do make it hard to be righteous,” he said when the server handed him his ice cream cone. He hoped the frozen ice cream would cool him off in every way, but he was pretty sure it wouldn’t. He led her to a table by the window. “Some people would think it was crazy for us to be eating ice cream when there’s snow on the ground.”

  “Some people wouldn’t be from Montana,” she said. “You gotta make the happy happen when you can.”

  He met her gaze and bit into his sugar cone. “I haven’t heard it put quite that way before.”

  She shrugged and took another bite of her sundae. “It’s just another way of grabbing the gusto,” she said and took yet another bite.