Heroes in Uniform: Soldiers, SEALs, Spies, Rangers and Cops: Sexy Hot Contemporary Alpha Heroes From NY Times and USA Today Bestselling Authors

by Sharon Hamilton

  That stopped her. “Don’t like what?”

  His brows dropped. “Me rebuilding the path from the house.”

  “Oh.” She took stock then, putting together the sheets of paper on a clipboard where he’d obviously been taking notes and the retracting steel tape measure he held. “Well, I will talk to Marti, because it’s on property that’s my responsibility. But that’s not what I want to talk to you about.”

  His brows relaxed. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

  “The other day, when we were riding, you said –No, don’t do that.”

  “I’m not doing anything.”

  “Yes, you are. You’re closing down, like Ben and Meg do when they don’t want to hear what I have to say.”

  “It’s not worth discussing, that’s all.”

  “How do you know?” She pushed her wind-blown hair out of her face with both hands, as she pointed out with some triumph, “You don’t know what I’m going to say.”

  “Nothing I said is worth discussing. That’s how.”

  “Grif – ” He’d started to turn away, and she caught him, her hand on his forearm, below where he’d rolled back the cuff of an age-softened khaki shirt. Impulsively she laid her other palm against the line of his jaw. “Please, listen.”

  He froze. She took that as acquiescence.

  “When I said you’re the most honorable man I know, and you said I didn’t know things ... I’ve been wondering if that had to do with your father. No –don’t say anything yet, let me finish.” She dropped her hands from him, wishing she’d thought out the words a little better. This had all been so clear in her head a moment ago. What was the matter with her? “I know it’s not really my business, but I care about you, Grif. And I know you. You’re a good man. Don’t confuse yourself with failings you saw in your father. I’m a pretty good judge of character and you – ”

  “You?” he scoffed. “You’re Pollyanna – a blind Pollyanna.”

  That left her flat-footed for a second, then she jammed her hands on her hips and demanded, “What do you mean by that? Give me one example where I – ”

  “Dale.” The single word was hard, unrelenting. So were the ones that followed. “Dale Sinclair. The man you married. You knew him all your life. But you didn’t see what he was? I don’t call that much of a judge of character.”

  “I saw.”

  “Then why by all that’s holy did you marry him?”

  “Because he wanted me. And he showed me he wanted me. And I needed that.”

  He stared at her, his gray eyes hard and desolate. “Yeah? Well, now you know wanting’s not enough. Not nearly enough.” He turned his back to her.

  She tipped her head back, drawing in a long, deep breath. “Yes. Now I know.”

  After a moment, he shifted so his side was to her, but still didn’t look her way. “Oh, hell, I’m sorry, Ellyn. I shouldn’t have ... I can’t blame you. I knew what Dale was. I kept hoping that with you, he’d become something more, something better.”

  “Me, too,” she said quietly.

  He nodded. “But I shouldn’t have let you take the chance.”

  And that fast her mood crackled, like a charge of lightning had passed through her. “Let me take the chance? Let me?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, I don’t. I have no idea what you mean. You’re letting Grif-the-Protector role go to your head twelve years retroactively.”

  “Grif-the-Protector?”

  “From when we were kids.” She waved one hand impatiently. “Looking out for all of us. Arranging things the way you thought was best for us. Well, let me tell you, Grif-the-Protector or no Grif-the-Protector, my marriage wasn’t something you arranged. You had nothing to do with my marrying Dale. That was – ”

  ”Nothing?”

  The soft question stopped her dead in her tracks. But it didn’t hurt as much as when he’d first brought up her foolish mistake. The implicit taboo they’d observed against mentioning it had been broken. The surprise element had evaporated.

  “I know – we both know – I had a crush on you for years, Grif. A schoolgirl crush that I let get out of hand. If I’d been more mature, I would have read the signals better, and I never would have put you through that embarrassing scene. But I didn’t turn around and marry Dale in a rush the instant you made it clear you didn’t return my feelings. Oh, I’ll admit I was more vulnerable for a while. That’s not easy on any girl’s ego.” She forced a smile that drew no response from him, and hers faded.

  His face had gone still as stone, and just as hard. “Dale took advantage of you.”

  She shook her head emphatically. “No, he didn’t. He came along at a time when his attention gave me a real boost – ” Like a cool stream of water to a fish left flopping high and dry on a hot riverbank. “But that was three years before we married. I loved Dale when I married him.”

  She caught a shadow of something in his face. “You don’t think I was still carrying a torch for you then, do you? Is that why – ?”

  “No.” The word stood stark for a moment before he added, “I know you weren’t. I knew for sure ... the week before the wedding.”

  Another awkward memory in their path to friendship.

  She tried to smile about it now. “I never understood where that came from, Grif. It was so out of character.”

  He was silent long enough that she thought he might not answer.

  “I don’t know. Maybe I wanted to know for sure that you really loved him before I stood up for him at your wedding.”

  “I did,” she said simply. “And I loved him for a long time afterward ... I’m not quite sure when I stopped loving him. But it was after he stopped loving me. ... If I hadn’t let him slip away, I think I’d still love him.”

  “Let him slip away? You didn’t let him slip away. It’s not your fault.”

  She curved her lips, knowing they didn’t achieve a real smile. “There are things,” she said, echoing his words, “you don’t know.”

  Stalemate.

  * * *

  Jotting an occasional note, Grif automatically absorbed the items Lieutenant Shaw enumerated, while the rest of his mind considered yesterday’s encounter with Ellyn.

  It didn’t matter what Ellyn thought he didn’t know. He knew Dale and he knew her. And he knew which of them was responsible for making the last few months of their marriage uncertain and miserable for her. Not to mention the past year.

  If he’d known Dale was going to end up hurting her ...

  You don’t think I was still carrying a torch for you then, do you? Is that why – ?

  Was that why four days before the wedding that made her his oldest friend’s wife, he had kissed Ellyn Neal? Not a kiss-the-bride kiss. Not an old-friends kiss. Not even a basically innocent kiss like she had bestowed on him three years earlier.

  He’d been helping her move her things into Dale’s apartment that Tuesday night, while Dale was at a ballgame in one of his series of bachelor flings. They’d been working steadily when she looked up with a slightly misty-eyed smile, and said, “This is like when we were kids, riding side by side for miles without saying a word. I’ve missed that, Grif.”

  His mind had been far from the innocence of those days. It had been on the permanence of the step she was taking. On the finality of the door closing behind her ... between them.

  Her words broke something in him. He’d shoved aside the box in front of her with his foot, trapped her against the wall next to the closet door with the weight of his body, and kissed her like he hadn’t kissed her three years earlier. With all the heat and passion and desire he hadn’t let himself show her then.

  She didn’t fight. She didn’t freeze. She accepted, but she didn’t participate.

  And when that realization reached into the small part of his brain that was still functioning, it took only a heartbeat for all that heat to freeze to solid shame.

  When he pulled back from her, her lips were reddened
and puffy.

  He made himself meet her eyes. She made a small sound, and reached a hand toward him. He backed away. Never saying a word.

  I never understood where that came from, Grif. It was so out of character.

  And that showed what a lousy judge of character she was, because it was precisely in character – his father’s character.

  Dog in the manger. That’s what they called it. A man who wouldn’t take something himself, but didn’t want anyone else to take it, either.

  Was that why he’d kissed Ellyn four days before she married Dale?

  Whatever his reason, there’d been no excuse.

  Whatever he’d hoped to gain, he’d only lost.

  Whatever he’d thought to learn, the lesson had been that he’d made his choice three years earlier and there was no going back.

  And the fact that he’d kissed her that way, in that place, at that time, showed he’d made the right choice to start. Ellyn deserved better than him.

  So, he’d stood beside Dale Sinclair as he made Ellyn his wife. He’d kissed the bride on the cheek. And he’d become her friend.

  Until Dale called him to a smoky bar one night, and the demon of letting himself dream got loose.

  “... the release date for the base-closings has been delayed.”

  That non-sequitor from sequitor-prone Lieutenant Shaw offered escape from his memories.

  “Delayed?”

  “Yes, sir. No new date for release yet. I thought with you in Wyoming and Fort Piney on the list, you would want to know. Unless ...” Chagrin took over the younger man’s voice. “I suppose you already knew.”

  Grif could trace Shaw’s thinking process exactly. He had a superior officer, who rarely took leave, suddenly decide to take leave. And to Far Hills, Wyoming, of all places. Then the sharp lieutenant notices that a base in the same community is among those the Army plans to announce will be closed. To Shaw’s knowledge, Colonel John Griffin Junior did not exist beyond the Army, so of course his leave had to involve the Army. And the only thing to do with the Army in Far Hills was Fort Piney. Which was about to close.

  Grif didn’t apprise Shaw of his error as they completed the call. No sense making his junior officer feel stupid ... especially since you never knew when Shaw’s mistaken impression might produce some information along the way.

  So, Fort Piney was on the closings list.

  He wondered if the lieutenant colonel in charge knew that. It didn’t much matter. He wouldn’t be able to reveal the information to civilians, even if he did know. Just as Grif could not reveal it. The Army decided when the news should be released and any individual member of the Army who knew the information was honor-bound to adhere to that.

  So he couldn’t tell the people of Far Hills that the army base that was such an integral part of their economy was about to be yanked out from underneath them. And he couldn’t warn Ellyn that one of the major advertisers in the newspaper where she did advertising layout was about to disappear.

  He grimaced and paced the five feet to the window. The immediate view was a parking lot, pockmarked by Wyoming winters and gritted by Wyoming dust. But beyond that showed a ridge of hills to the north, with a hint of the Big Horns at the left horizon.

  His immediate prospects were about as unattractive as the parking lot, and without any inspiring uplifts in his future.

  He had to get out of here. What good had he done? A game or two of catch with Ben, a couple reassuring follow-throughs with Meg, a few meals provided for Ellyn. What else he could do for them, Ellyn resisted. What he couldn’t do for them taunted him during the long, still nights. His self-discipline was eroding like a wind-scoured bluff. Crumbling a little more with each breeze.

  They wouldn’t understand if they found out he’d known about Fort Piney and hadn’t told them.

  Not only Ellyn, but all the others. All of Far Hills, the ranch and the community.

  His leaving would be best for everyone concerned.

  But the honor that bound him not to reveal what he knew about Fort Piney also meant he had to keep his word. And that meant he had at least two more obligations. One was to fix that path up to the ridge. The other was to an eight-year-old named Ben.

  At The Heart’s Command: Chapter Eight

  Ellyn had timed it perfectly.

  The fact that that was a result of luck rather than planning didn’t matter. She’d actually meant to arrive fifteen minutes earlier than she did at the elementary school for her stint of bringing treats and helping supervise a Fun Friday session. That’s what second-grade teacher Joyce Hammerschmidt called the once-a-month time when the kids ate goodies and sang songs. Ellyn doubted the kids even noticed that their teacher told them a great deal about how America had won its freedom from England around singing “Yankee Doodle Dandy” or about the Gold Rush and mining camps as they learned “Darling Clementine.”

  The kids loved it. That level of excitement in a class full of second-graders meant parent volunteers were essential.

  She let out a huff of relief as she opened the classroom’s door and discovered it empty. The other parents had obviously already arrived, because there were two plates of brownies, three plates of cookies, a tower of plastic cups, containers of juice and a stack of napkins laid out on a long table at the back of the room.

  She was re-arranging the cupcakes she’d brought when the teacher walked in.

  “Oh, Ellyn, I’m so glad to see you arrived in good time.”

  Joyce Hammerschmidt was a forceful woman nearing sixty. Ellyn was secretly a bit intimidated by her. Somehow when the teacher said Ellyn it made her feel as if she should sit up straighter and not be talking. But Ben had flourished in her class.

  Before Ellyn could form a coherent response, the teacher continued, “And I was even more glad to see Ben has come out of his funk over this.”

  Ellyn stopped with a cupcake in mid-air. “Funk?”

  “Nothing major.” The teacher gave an odd little laugh as if she’d said something clever. “Although at this age there’s nothing minor in their lives, is there. Especially after losing a parent. I have kept my eye on Ben, but he’s been doing quite well.”

  With the exception of that one bed-wetting episode, Ben had seemed to be doing well, especially since – she might as well admit it – Grif had shown up.

  “Although, I feared this incident with Billy Dayton might throw him into a tailspin.”

  “Incident?”

  Billy Dayton was the boy Ben talked about the most, the one whose house he most frequently asked to eat dinner at, the name listed first to come to the ranch. Except, Ellyn thought with a click of belated recognition, Ben hadn’t mentioned him in a while. She searched her memory. The last time she could remember for sure had been a couple days before Grif’s arrival. Ben had been unusually quiet, but Grif had changed that.

  “Of course,” Joyce Hammerschmidt was continuing, “most people think these relationships are more important to girls, but not those of us who work with children. Especially at a certain age, and especially if the boy is vulnerable. Boy or girl, that can make a betrayal devastating.”

  “Betrayal?”

  Oh God, she was a terrible mother. Her son had been betrayed and she didn’t even know it. Except she had. At least she’d seen the signs. The quietness, then the relapse on bed-wetting, the lack of Billy Dayton’s name. But she hadn’t put it all together.

  Because she’d been too taken up with Grif. With the surprise of his return, the mystery of his disappearance, the memories of their past.

  “Ah, I thought perhaps you hadn’t heard about it.” Joyce laid a hand reassuringly on Ellyn’s arm. “That’s not unusual. At this age, some boys still take every problem to Mom, but some are starting to think they need to work things out for themselves. Ben and Billy didn’t tell me, either. If it hadn’t been for overhearing a few of the girls talking at recess, and then what Daniel Delligatti said after Billy brought him in this morning, I wouldn’t have known.”r />
  “Daniel? What does he have to do with this? Please, Joyce, tell me what happened. I’m totally in the dark.”

  It must break some rule of motherhood to admit that, but she needed to know so she could help Ben.

  “It started with the assignment to bring in something that had been created outside of Wyoming, and give a short presentation to the class explaining how it had come to be in Far Hills. Ah, I see you hadn’t heard about the assignment. It’s a bit of show-and-tell, which the children love at this age, but requires some research on their part, as well as presentation skills. I picked up the idea at a seminar – ”

  “Yes, but what does this have to do with Ben? And Billy Dayton? And Daniel Delligatti.”

  “Well, from what I can gather, the children were talking about what they would bring in, trying to figure out things that hadn’t been created in Wyoming, and Ben became very excited and said he had a great idea. And it was a good idea,” the teacher said with a smile. “Showed initiative and creative thinking. I’d like to check with the woman who presented that seminar to – ”

  “What was his idea and what did Billy do?”

  “Oh, didn’t I say?” she gave a distracted look out the window where Ellyn saw kids gathering near the door into the building. Recess must be ending. “Ben wanted to bring in a person instead of an object. He decided he’d bring in Daniel Delligatti, who most definitely wasn’t created in Wyoming,” she added with a smile that seemed to appreciate the newcomer’s exotic good looks.

  “And the only person he told his idea to was Billy,” the teacher continued, pitching her voice louder as the thunder of small footsteps rumbled in the hall outside. “Then Billy turned around and asked Daniel to be his project before Ben could. The poor man. He told me he already felt badly that Ben asked, too late. This morning, when he found out Billy had stolen Ben’s idea, he felt truly terrible. But, of course, it was too late.”

  “But you said Ben had – ”

  The door at the front of the classroom swung open with a thud and a ragged stream of second-graders flowed in. Ellyn searched the stream for her particular just-turned eight-year-old, with no luck, though she did see Billy Dayton come in, by himself. Three mothers followed, taking grown-up sized seats along the side of the room that they’d already staked out with purses and jackets.