21 Marine Salute: 21 Always a Marine Tales (45 page)

An image of the sexy librarian popped into his head. He’d gotten a good look at a pair of lean, long legs at the grocery store and even more generous breasts when he’d seen her at the gas station. Her russet hair refused to stay confined to a braid and escaped in little tendrils he wanted to see spread out on a pillow while he sank into her body.

“You’re not backing out are you, Sergeant?” Luke’s voice carried just enough of a dare in it to get A.J.’s back up.

“No, sir. I’m not. I’ll check the messages.” If for no other reason than he had made a commitment to his unit, whether he remembered it or not. Another image of the sweet curve of her ass as the librarian turned away from him solidified in his head.

“Enjoy it, A.J. Enjoy being alive and home. It’s one night, right?”

“Yes, sir.” He hung up a couple of minutes later and stared at the phone. He thought about shutting it off, but he was a man of his word. And it was good to talk to Luke, to catch up on what the others were up to. He still couldn’t believe the captain was engaged.

He checked the text from the unfamiliar number. It asked him about his availability. It was Wednesday now. He glanced at the paddock and the fourteen sections where he still needed to put boards up.

If he finished today and took care of the one-night stand thing on the weekend, he could go see his librarian after church. Did she go to church?

Saturday. Afternoon or evening preferred
, he typed. That would give him time to get a haircut and feed the horses before he went.

He hesitated. Was it really fair to whomever they were hooking him up with that he was interested in another woman?

It’s just one night, A.J.. What can happen in one night
?

He hit send and tossed the phone on top of the letters then pushed himself off the porch swing and went back to work. The fence boards weren’t going to hammer themselves into place.

***

Saturday afternoon
? Panic locked up the air in her lungs like an allergy attack. She grabbed her brown sack lunch and dumped the food out before putting the paper up to breath into it. It crumpled and rattled with every forced inhale and exhale.

Why did I say yes
? What had she been thinking? Her teeth dragged over her lower lip as the pounding of her heart finally slowed. She stole a glance around the library. The chatter of children playing in the back with their mothers was the only noise of the day. Fortunately, no one was close enough to see her near freak out.

She leaned back in the chair and stared up at the ceiling. Saturday afternoon she had a date to get laid. Should she add that to her appointment calendar? A wildly inappropriate giggle stole through her.

This is assuming my date is with A.J. Turner…what if it’s not
?
It’s Freewill, how many cowboys have you seen in this town
?

The sound choked off and she swallowed hard.
But no Marines
. A.J. was the only Marine she knew there—well correction—the only Marine under the age of sixty.

A ding on her computer signaled a new email. She clicked it open. The date was set for four p.m. at a private cabin at the Misbegotten Gaines Ranch. Heat crept into her cheeks. The location hadn’t even occurred to her. A private cabin meant she could avoid the main house and maybe any whisper of her date.

But it was Freewill…how discreet could she manage to be?

Oh my God. What do I wear
?

It was after three before A.J. hit the shower. After a quick sluice of water to rinse away the sweat and a shampoo to get the grit out first, he took his time to shave. He’d pushed himself to finish the paddock and guided the first of three yearlings in there an hour before. The barn sported fresh paint and all the damaged boards had been replaced. First thing Monday, he would start working the yearlings out, getting them used to lunging with mild weight and more. As he scraped away the stubble, he considered ordering a hot walker. He could build one, but that would cut into the time he wanted to spend on the horses.

Washing off the traces of shaving cream, he rinsed his hair one more time and then shut the shower off. Fifteen minutes later, he pulled on boots and settled a black Stetson on his head. Nothing a little spit and polish couldn’t clean up.

He went over the mental list of chores. Horses fed. Water troughs full. Young stallion in the paddock getting used to his new workout space. House lights shut off. Truck keys in hand, he considered indulging himself and riding one of the horses over to the MGR Cabin where he was supposed to meet his ‘date,’ but a truck required less care and no stabling.

Not that he minded if the Gaines noticed his presence or not, but the lady in question might. Freewill offered a lot of freedom to its residents. Unfortunately, an absence of gossip was not one of those freedoms.

He left the front door unlocked and strolled over to classic 1950’s pickup truck. It sat parked in the U-shaped drive in front of the main house. The vehicle had belonged to his grandfather and father before him. The day after he arrived, he went over the engine with a fine-tooth comb, replacing rotted belts and changing the oil, glad that Guy came out every season to warm her up, run some fresh fuel through her lines and adjust the belts. He’d washed it up that morning first thing, polishing away seven years of dust and firing up the engine. He liked the smooth lines and comfortable ride.

He also enjoyed repairing it and there was a heavier duty SUV and modern pickup in the garage if he needed them. The car didn’t boast a CD or tape player much less anywhere to plug in a phone with MP3s, just an old radio that picked up two stations, country or news.

A.J. chose neither. He cranked the window down, fixed his hat and pulled out of the drive and up the long, bumpy gravel toward the road at three-thirty straight up. He would be early, but that suited him fine, too. The ride to the cabin took less than fifteen minutes. He parked the truck and trotted inside to check the lay of the land.

The cold dinner he’d requested sat packed neatly in sacks on the small bar separating the kitchen from the main room. Firewood stacked in the hearth would let him light a fire if they wanted it. The bearskin rug lay invitingly in front of the stone hearth. The sheets on the queen-sized bed were turned down and waiting and a bottle of champagne, wine, and case of beer chilled in the fridge.

All his bases were covered. He hadn’t heard a peep from the service since agreeing to the night, save for acknowledging the plans he made. Tipping his hat back, he ignored the beer for a moment and walked out to the porch to wait. A breeze came in from the mountains. The scent of pine, green grass, and a hint of water drifted through the air. In the distance, horses whinnied, but the trees muffled the sound. If he didn’t know the old log cabin sat in one of the most exclusive and coveted spots of the MGR, he could almost believe he was alone.

The sounds of nature washed over him, relaxing nerves that, even after a week at home and back breaking labor working on the ranch, remained raw. An engine purred through the silence, but it didn’t turn onto the gravel road leading up to the cabin. At one minute to four, a twig snapped, and he opened his eyes to look to his left.

I’ll be damned
.

The librarian stood next to one of the trees at the edge of the cabin’s clearing, her smile shy and her sunglasses pushed up to reveal wide, almost nervous eyes. She wore a cherry-colored sundress, baring creamy white shoulders and long arms. The skirt brushed her knees, and where he expected sandals, she wore a pair of sturdy, low-ankled boots.

He approved. Feminine, but smart. Sexy, but sensible. Trailing his gaze back upward, he met her sweet brown eyes with a grin. “Afternoon, ma’am.”

“Hi.” Her voice was sweet.

Funny, I’ve seen her all over town and this is the first time I’ve actually heard her
.

Crossing the yard slowly, she minded where she put her feet. She must have walked down from a main point on the property. If he’d known she needed one, he would have offered her a ride.

Hell, if he’d known she was his date, he would have put more effort into the planning. This promised to be a hell of a lot more interesting than trying to see her after church.

“I’m A.J. Turner.” He removed his hat and held out his hand. One-night stand or not, and he preferred more than one, she was a lady.

“I know.” She slid her hand against his, caressing his palm ever so briefly before closing her grasp and accepting the handshake. “Sheri Vaughn.”

“You’re the librarian.” He grinned. Her skin was soft, warm, and almost as sweet as her smile. He closed his grip on her hand and held it.

She lifted her eyebrows, but didn’t protest. “And you’re the Marine.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. I’m really glad I turned my phone back on.”

A pretty, pale pink suffused her cheeks, and she lowered her lashes, shielding her brown eyes. “I’m sorry?” She laughed and tugged her hand. He let her go, reluctantly. She smoothed her hand over her dress and then up to touch her hair. The awkward nervousness was endearing.

“I came home and shut off my phone. I had a lot of work to do on the ranch and liked the thought of the quiet. Almost forgot about the service.” He winked, enjoying the blush that deepened on her cheeks. “Would you like to join me on the porch? And maybe a drink?”

“I would, thank you.” She walked toward the cabin, hands clasped behind her back. “I guess that explains why it took a week for me to hear back.”

He settled the hat back on his head and pulled out one of the handcrafted oak chairs for her to sit on. Fortunately the porch was wide enough to boast a small table and chairs.

“My apologies, ma’am.” He brushed his fingers across her shoulder as she sat. “If I’d realized, I would have called a lot sooner.”

She looked up at him. “Why is that?”

It was too soon. They’d just met—officially at least. But the urge to kiss her swung through his system like a well-aimed hammer. He leaned down and brushed his mouth against hers. Her breath tasted of mint and her lips were like petals.

Her swift inhale emboldened him, and he massaged her lips slowly, teasing them apart until his tongue could taste hers. Locking his hands on the chair, he focused only on the kiss and the sweet hesitation that evaporated with a low, groan. She kissed like a summer breeze, warm and inviting. Desire burst through him, and he wanted to sink into her and linger a while, but he’d promised her a drink.

With even greater reluctance than he felt when he let go of her hand, he pulled back. Her brown eyes were dark and dreamy when she met his gaze. “Because I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you in the café.”

***

Sheri’s heart ping-ponged against her ribs at the wash of masculine scent wrapping around her. A.J. winked as he stood and disappeared into the cabin. It gave her time to gather her scattered brain cells back into some semblance of thought.

Dear God, the man can kiss
. Heat flushed through her, cascading with awareness that left her tingling. She rubbed her thumb against her lower lip. It was like she could still feel him touching her.

“What do you want to drink?” His voice drifted out through the open door.

“Um….” She twisted toward the sound of his voice, trying to find her composure again. “Beer is fine, if you have it.”

The pop of a bottle cap made her jump.

“I definitely have that.”

Excitement skated over her nerves. She hadn’t been able to think of anything else since details for the evening arrived in her inbox. She spent all day at the library half-expecting comments about the sign she posted stating the library would close at three on Saturday and not reopen until Monday. But nope, not a word.

A.J.’s boots thumped the wood floor of the porch as he strolled back out and set the bottle in front of her. He started to sit and frowned. “Did you want it in a glass?”

“Nope. Bottle’s fine.” She took a long pull to demonstrate just how fine she was with it. He sat and stretched his legs out in front of him.

Dragging her gaze up from the way his jeans molded to the thick muscles of his thighs, she found him staring at her with a hint of amusement. “Good evening.”

“Good evening.” Self-conscious laughter bubbled up. The habit was one of her least favorite; the inability to control the nervous chuckle. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you. Welcome to Freewill.” He grinned, tipping his bottle toward her.

“Thank you.” They clinked the bottlenecks together and she followed his cue with another swallow. She was a cheap date, the alcohol in the beer relaxing the butterflies flapping through her belly.

“How long have you been here?” He shifted in the seat and crossed one ankle over the other, settling in for the long haul. Everything about him rang true to her wish—everything. God, even his black Stetson complemented his tanned skin and true blue eyes.

“Six months, give or take a week. I arrived in the middle of winter.” An unpleasant time to show up considering how deep the snow had been, but she’d found no shortage of helpful hands, and it didn’t take her long to find an apartment in town and get the job at the library. In fact, the town council was thrilled to have the library open six days a week.

“You seem right at home now.” He tipped the bottle up for another drink.

“I like it. I like it a lot. I thought after Los Angeles, I wouldn’t want to live in the middle of nowhere. But it’s quiet. There are no gunshots in the middle of the night. No worries about drive-bys. No ex-husbands to run into.” She grimaced. She hadn’t intended to bring him up.

“Most of the town shuts down at nine. The quiet is good.” The emphasis he placed on quiet seemed significant.

“Did you grow up here?”

“Born and raised.”

She relaxed more, leaning back in the chair and toying with her beer bottle. A.J. oozed a definite masculine sensuality, but peaceful, too. All the ruffles and worries seemed to smooth away.