One Night With a Cowboy

by Cat Johnson

  “Really?” Becca drew in a shaky breath.

  “Yes. And that wouldn’t be happening if things were still as bad as you say they were when that reporter was there and the video was being filmed.”

  She hated to admit it, but what Emma was saying made some sense. The moment she hung up, she’d go back and check the date on the documentary again. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if everything was settled down over there by now and she’d worried for nothing? “You really think so?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Becca would give anything to believe that. “Okay. I guess you’re right.” She wiped her eyes with her last remaining tissue. She’d have to buy more. She had a feeling she’d need them if Tucker didn’t call her very soon.

  “You have to try and get some rest, Becca. Staying up all night watching nightmarish videos and reading about troop casualties isn’t going to help your state of mind any.”

  “I know, but I don’t think I’ll be able to fall asleep.” She hadn’t even been able to eat anything for dinner, which might be contributing to the sick feeling in her stomach as much as the fear.

  “Just try to rest, and tomorrow go and get some of those over-the-counter sleeping pills.”

  Becca generally wasn’t the sleeping pill type. Herbal tea and maybe an old movie on television before bed had always been enough to lull her into oblivion, but there was no way she’d be able to sleep with the sounds and images from that documentary’s battle replaying in her mind. “All right, I will.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes. I’ll go to the pharmacy and buy some, I swear.” She needed to be well rested if only to keep herself on an even keel mentally.

  If Tucker was able to get in touch with her, she didn’t want him to hear how worried she’d been. She needed to be able to respond to his e-mail or phone call like everything was fine, so he could concentrate on keeping himself safe without her being a distraction. That was if he called or e-mailed. If he wasn’t . . . the word dead echoed in her head and increased the nausea.

  As that thought resurfaced once more, she pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle a fresh sob. She was a wreck. Emma was right. She needed to sleep, and to eat, and to calm down.

  “I think I have some of those nighttime pain relievers here. They always put me to sleep.” She’d cried herself into a headache anyway.

  “Good. Go take those. It’s the weekend. You don’t have classes. Do you have anything else you absolutely have to do tomorrow?”

  “No.”

  “Then you go and take two. Close the blinds and curtains tight, go to bed, and sleep late. And if you can’t fall asleep in like half an hour, you get up and take another pill.”

  “But the label says the dosage is one to two tablets.”

  “You’ll be fine taking three. Trust me. I’ve gone up to four.”

  Emma was usually a champion sleeper. Becca frowned. “When did you ever need to—”

  “Never mind. This isn’t about me. It’s about you, and you need to rest. You’ll feel so much better after some sleep. Everything will look different in the morning when you’re well rested.”

  Good, because even breathing seemed harder than it should right now. “Okay. I’ll give it a try. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “You better.”

  Becca hung up with Emma and had just pushed herself off the couch, when there was a knock on the door. The sound made all the calm Emma had instilled in her disappear.

  She hadn’t ordered delivery. Who could be here this late on a Friday night? Not for the first time, Becca considered how she should have pepper spray or something for times like this, but one look through the peephole allayed the fear she was about to be attacked.

  It was Logan. She couldn’t get the door open fast enough to let him inside. “Did you hear from his parents?”

  “Becca.” The expression on his face told her the answer. He knew something, and whatever it was, it wasn’t good. If everything was fine, he would have called. He wouldn’t have shown up here looking like this.

  “No. Logan. No.” She shook her head. It couldn’t be true. “Do not tell me they told you he’s dead.”

  When the room began to sway, Logan reached out and grabbed her by both arms. As she concentrated on the black letters spelling ARMY on the front of his gray sweatshirt, Logan held her steady and said, “We don’t know he’s dead. But he’s missing.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  It was a hellish night followed by a pretty horrendous day. Hour after hour of waiting and uncertainty. Becca definitely was not going to fall to sleep and she didn’t take anything to help. How could she when she was waiting for word about Tucker?

  She’d never felt so alone. Tucker’s mother was not handling the news well, and Logan had driven to be with her. But he promised if Tuck’s family was notified with any updates at all, he would call. Day or night. Good or bad.

  The phone rang more than ever, sending her into a near heart attack each time. Ninety-nine percent of the calls were from Emma, checking on her, asking if she’d heard anything new. A few times it had been Logan checking up on how she was doing. Asking one more time if she wanted to drive to Tucker’s parents’ house to wait with them.

  That would have been interesting. How the hell would she have explained her position in his life? I used to have sex with your son, before he volunteered to put his life in danger because of me.

  No, she was better off in her apartment where she could cry and look like a mess in private without adding to his parents’ already overwhelming stress.

  She’d grown so accustomed to jumping for the phone each time it rang and seeing Emma’s number come up, it was a shock to see an unknown number on the display.

  “Hello?” Shaking, she answered and held her breath, waiting for what she hoped would be good news.

  “Becca.”

  “Oh, my God. Tucker.” Air whooshed out of her as she grasped for the arm of the couch and lowered herself onto the cushion. The sound of his voice and her relief at hearing it took Becca off her feet. “They told me you were missing.”

  “Yeah, I know. That wasn’t quite the truth. I mean I knew where I was, but the radios were down so no one else did, but I’m fine.”

  “I was so worried.” She bit back anything else, about exactly how panicked she’d been. About how she’d practically paced a hole in the floor of her apartment over the last day. Now was not the time to complain about how bad things had been for her, because they had to have been infinitely worse for him.

  “I know. I’m sorry to worry you. I called as soon as I could. The minute I got off the bird here at base, the captain told me they’d informed my parents I was missing. I hung up with them and dialed your number. I figured I’d better call my mom first—”

  “No, no. Of course. I’m glad you called her. She was really worried. Logan is there with them.”

  “Yeah. He was on one of the extensions on the house phone. He told me to make sure I called you.”

  “He told you to call me in front of your family? Didn’t they wonder why? Or who I was?”

  “Nah. I doubt it. No one said anything to me about it anyway. It was a little chaotic there with both my parents, and my brother and sister and Logan all in the house trying to be on the line at once.” He paused. “It’s really nice to hear your voice.”

  She let out a laugh that sounded too much like a sob about to break through. “It’s good to hear yours, too.”

  That was an understatement.

  She needed to tell him how she felt before it was too late and he hung up and something bad happened.

  “Becca—”

  “Tucker, I—” Her words tumbled out on top of his.

  When they both stopped talking at once, Tucker said, “Sorry. You go first.”

  “No. It’s fine. You first.” She was having enough trouble breathing. She could use the delay.

  “Okay. I wanted to . . . to tell you I love you.” He paused for a second as
her pulse thundered at his words. “You don’t have to say anything, but I wanted you to know.”

  “I know I don’t have to say anything, but I really want to. I love you, too.” Relief flooded Becca. Now he’d said it, and she’d said it back, it seemed as if she’d opened the floodgates and she couldn’t close them again. She began to babble. “When you get back I don’t want to be only friends, or even friends who have sex. I want us to be together for real. And eat fried bologna sandwiches and go to the rodeo and . . . I don’t know. Do everything and anything together.”

  “That’s really good to hear. I’d like that.” There was a smile in his voice.

  Becca was smiling, too, until she remembered the damn university rule, which had caused this mess to begin with. Now was not the time to get into that with him. Not with him still a world away and in danger.

  “And I don’t care what I have to do to be with you. We’ll work it out somehow. Okay?” She’d start looking for a new teaching position tomorrow if that’s what it took to be with Tucker.

  “Okay.” He let out a huff of air. “God, I wish I could hold you right now.”

  “Me, too.”

  “No, really. You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to tell you how I feel, and to see you . . . and to touch you.” His voice dipped low and sexy. It caused a craving deep down inside her.

  “I know what you mean. Me, too.” But as much as she’d love to fall into bed with Tucker and show him exactly how much she loved him, the relief of knowing he was fine now couldn’t dispel the fear she could lose him again. “How much longer until you come home?”

  “Things change a lot around these parts, but the platoon is scheduled to be here until spring.” Tucker laughed. “Sorry about the shitty timing. I tell you I love you and then follow it up with how I won’t be able to see you for months.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll wait as long as I have to.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how I felt before I left. I should have. I guess I was too chicken.”

  Becca wasn’t certain she could have handled hearing it before he’d left anyway. Not when she’d been so confused about his leaving to begin with. Before she’d known the true reason why he’d left. Before she’d realized the depth of her own feelings for him.

  “Tucker Jenkins, you are anything but chicken. You’re a hero, just for being there where you are and doing what you do.”

  “No, not really. Any one of the men in my squad has done the same and more every day, but thanks for saying so. Look, I can’t tell you how much I hate to say this, but I’ve used up more than my share of phone time.”

  “Of course. Go. It’s fine.”

  “I don’t know what’s going to happen around here over the next few days. The rotation schedule’s . . . It’s a little messed up right now, but I’ll try my best to call you back soon. Okay? Keep your phone nearby.”

  “I will.” It had been practically glued to her body since yesterday anyway while she had been waiting for word. After he said that, she wouldn’t let it out of her sight.

  “I love you, Becca.”

  She smiled as the tears escaped and spilled down her face. “I love you, too.”

  “Jinxy. Get the hell up and make room for the returning hero.”

  “Shut up, Conseco.” Tucker rolled his eyes. If he hadn’t been starving, he would have bypassed the base’s building where the cook served a hot meal once a day, and headed directly for a shower and then bed.

  “Sure, sure. No problem. Hero gotta sit, don’t he?” Jinx shoved to the side and made room on the bench next to him. Not that Tucker wanted to sit with them given the mood these guys were in. Now that they knew he wasn’t actually dead, it seemed they were determined to taunt him until he wished he were.

  “Hey, Cowboy, tell us what happened. Did you really fend off a camp of enemy fighters with your bare hands?” Tompkins grinned.

  “No, not bare-handed. I heard he used his cowboy bullwhip. You know, like Indiana Jones.” Conseco made a whipping motion and sound.

  Tuck shook his head and tried not to laugh.

  Post-battle adrenaline, he guessed. They were still all riding a high from the attack, as well as trying to deal with the losses, each in his own way. With no more fighting as the enemy hid and licked their wounds, the squad needed an outlet. It seemed for some of them, teasing Tuck was it. Lucky him.

  “Oh, is that how he did it?” Jinx nodded knowingly.

  “Here ya’ go, Cowboy.” The cook planted a hot sandwich right off the grill in front of Tuck. “And bull riders don’t use whips, you idiots.”

  “Thanks, Jonesy. And you’re right. They don’t.” Maybe he had one ally here, after all.

  “You see in bull riding, it’s all in the hips. Like this.” Jonesy made some pretty obscene hip thrusts with accompanying sexual noises, and Tuck sighed.

  “Ah. Gotcha.” Conseco laughed along with the rest of the guys in the room.

  “Yeah, yeah. Real funny.” Tuck scowled and took a bite of the sandwich. Since he was there and enduring this torture, he might as well eat. At least the food was good, even if the company wasn’t.

  “Cowboy. How many bastards were there at the weapons cache? I heard a dozen.” Smith leaned across the table and spoke low.

  Somehow the story had grown to epic proportions in the past few hours. After he’d tracked the fighter he’d seen dragging the weapons away from the outpost, Tuck figured out two things. One, he was far from help and outmanned, judging by the number of insurgents who’d been bombarding the outpost. A single shot would take out the fighter with the weapons, but it would also reveal his presence and location. He’d be hard pressed to retrieve those weapons and get back to the outpost before the enemy knew he was there and alone. And two, if this guy was bringing the stolen weapons to the place the coalition forces had yet to find, the spot where the bastards hid their stash, it would be more valuable for Tuck to follow him than to kill him.

  The plan worked. The fighter brought the guns to a group of men, where there was much inspection of the booty and rejoicing before they hid it. All while Tuck hid and watched. It had taken all night to wait out the fighters, who eventually left once the Apaches had stopped sweeping the area and chewing up the hills with their fire.

  It had taken Tuck another hour to convince himself they were really gone before he dared try the radio. Thank God it had worked. He called in his location in a whisper, and more important, he told the captain the location of the cache. He didn’t dare go in to recover the weapons since more than likely the cache was wired with explosives. Instead, he moved as slowly and silently as he could to the designated landing zone and waited to be extracted.

  “No, man. Not twelve. There were only four,” Tuck told him.

  “Four.” Smith shook his head, slow and steady.

  Smith and the forward observer at the outpost had been friends. Tuck had learned the FO took a direct hit with a grenade while on the radio calling in an update to the base. That’s what jammed the platoon’s frequency.

  Tuck knew what Smith was thinking. How could so few do so much damage? “There were way more at the outpost, Smith. They just didn’t make it back to the weapons cache because we got ’em.”

  “Yeah, we got ’em.” Smith nodded. He stared at his plate for a bit. Not eating. Just staring. “And after the bird picked you up? What happened?”

  “We blew the shit out of their hidey hole.”

  Smith’s head bobbed in another nod, and then he went silently back to his meal.

  Tuck finished his sandwich in two more big bites and then stood. “Well, it’s been fun, boys, but there’s a shower in my future.”

  He was filthy. Though what else was new? He dumped his trash in the bin and headed for the door.

  “Hey, Cowboy.”

  Resigned to getting more crap from his teammates, Tuck stopped in the doorway and turned back toward Conseco. “Yeah?”

  “You tell her yet?”

  Tuck grinned.
“Yeah. I did.”

  Conseco nodded once, then turned toward the grill. “Jonesy. Got another one grilled up for me?”

  Tuck didn’t miss the satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his teammate’s mouth.

  Chapter Thirty

  Becca held the cell phone in one hand and struggled to hit the button on her key to unlock her car with the other. Both tasks were harder than they should have been with her fingers chilled to the bone as they were.

  “So what are you doing for Valentine’s Day tomorrow?”

  The better question was why did Emma sound so enthusiastic about this dumb holiday they’d both be spending alone?

  She groaned and slid behind the wheel. “I’ll be doing nothing, thank you. And thanks so much for reminding me of that depressing fact.” She slammed the door and started the engine, willing the heat to kick in soon.

  “Hey, at least you have a boyfriend.”

  “Yes, a boyfriend thousands of miles away in a war zone.” She rolled her eyes.

  Having a boyfriend didn’t do her much good on a cold gray day like this when she would really love having Tucker and his big, warm body here to snuggle up against. He couldn’t even give her an exact date he’d be coming home so she could anticipate when she’d have him back with her again.

  “I don’t care. It doesn’t matter where he is. It still counts.”

  Emma was right. Becca’s heart warmed just thinking about him. Tucker loved her, and she loved him, and whenever the stupid army let him come home, they’d be together. “You’re right. It does count. At least I’m not totally without a boyfriend on Valentine’s Day.”

  “Like me, you mean? Yeah. Thanks.”

  “Just teasing you, Em.” She smiled.

  “Mmm, hmm.” Emma didn’t sound convinced.

  Becca didn’t worry her sister would stay mad for long. She’d sent flowers and chocolates to be delivered to Emma’s house tomorrow to make up for the fact she wasn’t in New York. If she had been, they could have drowned the sorrow of their Valentine’s Day lonesomeness together.