Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
He was so much stronger than I was, there was no fighting him. I’d learned that one day when I’d tried to jump out of the chopper to rescue a VC soldier who’d lost a leg right alongside our own guys. Major had forcibly held me back while Lynch had pulled us out of there just before the VC soldier pulled a grenade out of his pocket and launched it at us. Had Major not held me down long enough for Lynch to pull up or had, god forbid, I loaded the guy onto the chopper, we would have all died.
There in Major’s apartment, I went limp almost immediately like a damned kitten in its mother’s mouth.
“Stop,” he said in his low voice, the one I’d always joked sent out shock waves of power across the land. Moline had sworn that one word in Major’s “command voice” could make a grunt shit his pants.
But I was no grunt.
“No,” I said like a petulant child. “No I will not stop. You’re an idiot! Why? Why, Weston? Christ, do you have a death wish?” I was getting worked up again and thought for a split second I was going to have a true panic attack. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on breathing. I could smell Ivory soap on his skin and commercial starch on his uniform pants. Warm puffs of his breath brushed across my cheek. Something about the way he held me so tightly calmed me. It reminded me of the way the nurses in the hospital had wrapped the babies so tightly in their blankets to give them a sense of security.
Maybe there was something to it.
“Lieutenant Colonel Marian,” he said, emphasizing the promotion, “will be on special assignment to Cam Ranh, and they said they anticipate the assignment only lasting six months.”
“The air base?” That was something, at least. Cam Ranh was safer than Long Binh. And as lieutenant colonel, he sure as hell wouldn’t be flying helicopters every day. It was more likely he’d be working in an office, safely staying on base most of the time.
He puffed out half a chuckle. “Yes, Liam. The air base.” Something strange always happened to my stomach when he said my first name. I never could tell if it was because he usually only said it when he wasn’t aware of it, or because when he said it, it just sounded so tender and incongruous coming out of his gruff self. It was like watching a bloody war hero hold a daisy.
I blew out a long breath and wriggled out from his hold so I could turn and look at him.
“Congratulations on the promotion. I mean it. You deserve it.”
Major’s eyes studied me. “Thanks.”
“I’m not going to call you Lieutenant Colonel though. You know that, right?” I teased.
He ran thick fingers through his hair again, a reluctant smile creasing his face. “Yeah. I know.”
“When do you leave?”
“Sixty days.”
I thought about spending time with him before he went. If something did happen to him over there, I’d regret every single moment I’d never had with him.
“How do you feel about joining me on the ranch this weekend? I could use your help fixing some fence line and moving some equipment to a new barn.” I gave him my best puppy face, which made him bark out a laugh.
“That shit doesn’t work on me.”
“Then what does?” I asked before standing up and stretching. I knew he was going to say yes, and I was eager to get on the road so we could make it home in time for some of my mom’s pie.
He watched me stretch. “The promise of a home-cooked meal or three and the chance to meet your Texas Rose.”
I laughed. “Major, if there’s one thing I can promise you, it’s home-cooked meals. Pack a bag and let’s get going.”
Chapter 14
Weston “Major” Marian
The drive to Hobie wasn’t long, but by the time we arrived on the ranch, my nerves were shot anyway. What the hell did I think I was doing agreeing to meet his wife and kids? But I knew the answer to that. I was being his friend. I needed my friendship with Doc Wilde like I needed the army. It had become part of me etched deep like the letters on my dog tags.
When I met Elizabeth Hobart Wilde, she was as pretty as a picture. She was sitting on the wide front steps of the farmhouse snapping pole beans with dogs and kids running around her in the yard. When she spotted us driving up, she lifted her head midlaugh, and I knew right away I was going to like her.
I expected to be jealous and possessive, but she was just too nice and smart and funny. Betsy was perfect for Doc.
She stood up and walked forward, wearing oversized blue jean overalls like a true farmer, but they were clearly not hers. The bottoms were rolled up several times, and the floral cotton blouse she wore underneath was fresh and modern.