The Hot Sergeant (Second Chance Military Romance) (Hargrave Brothers - Book #2)

by Alexa Davis

  With that in mind, I packed my favorite party dress, then added another, just in case I changed my mind once we got there. I packed extra treats for Slinky and Xavi and lugged my suitcase and the dogs’ accessory bags into the front entryway just in time to see George dipping milk bones in white chocolate, a treat I’d thought Skipper might like. My jaw dropped at the sheer quantity of chocolate-covered dog biscuits laying on the wax papered counter.

  “George, it’s one dog; how many of these things did you think she’d eat?” He chuckled in response.

  “Mom mentioned that she was making the party more dog-friendly this year. I thought it might be a nice surprise for you both if I, you know, tried my hand at being a better doggie dad.” I picked my jaw off the floor and grinned at him.

  “How can I help?” Watching him work so hard made me feel like a heel for being suspicious.

  He had been a huge help to me for the past few weeks. We’d moved him in and his first official act as the owner of a construction company was to build the extension to the Pup Hut that Dad had been promising for two years, but had never delivered. I reminded myself that George had chosen me, and he was entitled to have contact with other people for his business and friends. I sighed and started stacking the biscuits that were already dry into large plastic containers with lids.

  “I have bags for them, but I figured we’d let Mom handle that at the ranch, unless she just wanted to put them out in bowls, you know.” I nodded and smiled again as he carefully dipped the last biscuit and laid it on the wax paper, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth in concentration.

  “And, done. Let me get cleaned up. I’m fairly certain I have white chocolate in my pants, and I’ll be ready to head up, okay?” I offered to clean the kitchen for him, and he gratefully took me up on the offer and dashed toward the bedroom, his cane thumping on stone floor.

  I washed the double boiler out and wiped down the counters, then grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and packaged up the last of the cooled dog biscuits. I stacked the containers to carry them out to the truck, when I heard a flute sound growing steadily louder. George’s phone vibrated as it rang, and started to jangle its way right off the edge of the counter, so I jumped forward and grabbed it. I didn’t recognize the number, but figured I’d just take a message for George in case there was a job emergency.

  I picked up the call and said hello and a woman’s voice apologized for having a wrong number.

  “Um, this isn’t my phone, actually. It belongs to George Hargrave. May I take a message?" I began.

  “Oh, my God, no. No, thank you,” the voice on the other end stammered, then hung up on me. My blood ran cold and my heart pounded hard as I set the phone gently down on the counter and carried the dog biscuits to the car.

  I wanted to believe that George was still the man I believed him to be, but every day since we’d moved in together, he reminded me more of my father. I listened to the steady stream of the shower in the other room.

  Chewing on my lip, I picked up his phone and entered his pin. Unable to unlock it, I entered it again, then made a third attempt. George had used the same pin, his birthday and mine, since his very first cell phone. I fought back tears. He’d locked me out, and he’d ever had a reason to before. I sniffed loudly in the empty kitchen.

  Of course, he had a reason to lock me out, I chided myself. If I hadn’t been snooping like he was doing something, I never would’ve known. Because I hadn’t had a reason to use his phone in weeks. I reminded myself that he was about to go to his family homestead with me for the weekend, and certainly wouldn’t be planning any extracurricular activities there. My chest ached, but I willed myself to give him the benefit of the doubt until he made it impossible to do so.

  I finished loading up the truck with our bags and collected his toiletries from him as he finished with them. I packed a small satchel with my makeup and his shaving accoutrements, and by the time he was dressed, I was ready for him to help me load the dogs and hit the road.

  On the way out the door, I reminded him to grab his phone, and told him as nonchalantly as I could manage, that he’d gotten a call, but the caller had said it was a wrong number. He thanked me and stuck the phone in his pocket without looking, and I felt like an ass for thinking anything of it.

  We stopped for breakfast burritos, and I walked the pups outside while George said he had to hit the head one last time. When he came out of the restaurant, he was grinning and couldn’t seem to stop. He kissed me soundly and grabbed my ass, then loaded the dogs into the backseat. He didn’t say anything as we drove up to the ranch, just hummed along with the music and smiled like so much I thought his face might break.

  “You want to tell me what’s got you so damn happy?” I groused as we navigated the winding old highway.

  “Just a plan that is falling into place. It isn’t ready yet, but you’ll know as soon as it is.” He kept humming, and I sighed and stared out the window. Obviously, there was a good chance my paranoia had been just that, but I still wanted to know what was making him so happy. I didn’t want to pick a fight, though, so I let it go and focused on relaxing and getting ready to enjoy a weekend with the Hargrave clan.

  “Is Logan still in town?” I asked, remembering the offer George had made to partner up with him.

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact, he asked to speak with me about it at the end of the weekend. He’s getting kind of stir crazy up there.”

  I scoffed. Logan was the only farmer I’d ever known who suffered from wanderlust.

  George slowed down as we neared a scenic pullout and parked. He asked me to join him, and I followed him out, leaving the dogs asleep in the backseat. We walked a little way from the road and looked out over a grassy field surrounded by forest. George held my hand and asked me to sit with him on the wooden bench, setting his cane off to one side.

  “Is something wrong, George?” I asked, hating myself for the tremor in my voice.

  “Wrong? No. I just wanted a little quiet time with you before we got to the ranch and everything got hectic and loud.”

  “I thought you got enough quiet at home,” I mused, watching him trace the veins and tendons in my hand with his forefinger.

  “That’s one of my favorite things about home,” he admitted. “That it’s just you and me and the pups. I love you, Cal.”

  My eyes stung with tears of shame. I swore to myself that I’d never question George ever again and leaned up to kiss his cheek.

  “I love you, too, George Hargrave, always have, always will.” He looked out over the field, watching the tall grass move in the light breeze that blessedly took a little sting off the heat of the day.

  “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “that should be our vows.” I glanced up out of the corner of my eye. He hadn’t mentioned wedding stuff in so long, I was shocked it had occurred to him.

  “Okay, I think that’s a great idea.”

  We got back in the truck after letting the dogs out to stretch, and made the bottom of the long gravel road up to the ranch just as the sun started to climb in earnest. When we got to the big gate at the top, I could see sprays of flowers and streamers and unlit lanterns set up all over the front landscaping.

  “Good heavens, she went all out this year. George, it looks like a bloody…”

  “Wedding?” he offered, and I stared at him, mouth agape.

  “What have you done, George Arlen Hargrave?” I gasped. He didn’t respond, but parked the truck out of the way of any incoming traffic and helped me down from the cab. I turned toward the house and people came flooding out, all in their wedding best, including Shaylen and half of my employees.

  Without another word to my husband-to-be, I was whisked away to the north wing to get ready. I stared at the dress I’d picked out weeks ago with my mother, hanging in the middle of the room. The bed had been taken out, and in its place sat a vanity and a bust with jewelry and the veil I’d chosen. Rachel, Verica, and Shaylen surrounded me and helped me u
ndress, and ushered me to the bathroom in my underwear so I could shower if I wanted.

  I took a minute and stared into the mirror. It was my wedding day. No time to prepare, no time for nerves to escalate and abate, it all hit me in a wave of panic that almost bowled me over. Shaylen peeked in after knocking, and whatever she saw in my face prompted her to start the shower.

  “He was so excited to do this for you,” she chatted as she tested the temperature and let the water flow from the showerhead. “Whenever you’re ready, your mother hired a makeup artist and a hairstylist, and then we’ll get you all dressed up in that gorgeous dress you picked out.”

  She sighed and gave me a quick hug around the shoulders. “Don’t worry, I’m excited enough for both of us. Just take your time.” She left me alone again, and I sighed at my reflection watching it disappear behind the steamed-up glass.

  I put on a shower cap and just stood under the hot water until it cooled, getting my bearings, and going back over all the secretive behavior George had exhibited over the last few weeks. The bastard. I smiled to myself. It was too hard to be mad or scared when he’d gone to so much trouble to give me the wedding I wanted, from the ranch, to the flowers, to the dress. It was the best surprise I’d ever heard of, let alone the ones I’d gotten.

  I got into my strapless bra and panties, slid the garter over one leg, then sat in a robe while I submitted to the ministrations of the makeup artist, after begging her not to do anything too dramatic.

  I let my friends and future sister-in-law help me into the slinky dress and looked at myself in the mirror. The large rosette over one shoulder had a large-cut crystal at its center, and was offset by the thin strap on the opposite side. I smoothed my hands over the shiny satin as it flowed from my waist to almost the floor, and turned to the side to better see the short train that dragged behind.

  The sparse beading dotting the bust was echoed in the veil, which the stylist pinned above the simple chignon she bound at my neck, adding tiny flowers at the edges to help hold it in place.

  I let Rachel slip my shoes on my feet and stood before the mirror, staring at the stranger I saw there, not goofy or tomboyish, but elegant and sophisticated. I started to cry and half a dozen tissues appeared instantly to prevent damage to my makeup.

  “I’m sorry. I look so different; what if he thinks I can look like this forever now?” I sniffed. “I’m not this pretty.”

  “Idiot, he loves you without your makeup on. He’s not going to stop, just because he finds out what you look like when you do wear it.” Shaylen poked me in the arm as she chided me and made me smile.

  “What happens now?” I asked looking at each woman in turn. “When is the wedding?” Rachel laughed and gave me a gentle hug.

  “Verica went to make sure everyone is seated. We’re going to have our picture taken one more time, all together, and then we’ll escort you downstairs.” I nodded, then had a mini-panic moment.

  “Who’s walking me down the aisle?” I gasped. The bedroom door pushed open and Verica stepped inside, followed by my father, who was so dashing in his tuxedo I almost started to cry again.

  “I will claim that honor, if you’ll let me.” I nodded, unable to trust my voice, and hugged him tight. “Thank you, my girl. I’m glad I get to be here today.”

  He held out his arm and I took it, and together we descended the grand staircase to the main floor. I tried not to look around too much, but the house was covered in all my favorite wildflowers, hanging from the ceiling, wound around the banisters, and in pots and vases on every surface available.

  As we approached the back of the house, I heard a distant voice over loudspeaker, announcing my arrival. Dad and I stood and waited for the other ladies to exit, then organ music started to play, and my knees gave out. My heart was pounding so loud in my ears that I could hardly hear a thing, and Dad gripped me tighter, keeping me on my feet.

  “You can do this,” he whispered in my ear and braced me until I was standing steady on my own. I nodded and we took a step, paused, then took another. The doors opened wide in front of me, and everyone sitting in the garden stood at attention as we slowly made our way to the handsome man waiting for me at the end of the white carpet at my feet.

  My father gave me to my husband-to-be, and the pastor intoned blessings of God over us, but all I could hear was the steady beat of my pulse, and all I had eyes for were the scared, excited eyes in front of me.

  Our vows went by in a blur, and I was still in such shock that when George leaned in to kiss me, I startled. He took my breath away with that kiss, chaste by our standards, but passionate enough to make the audience murmur and fidget.

  I looked out over our friends and family, amazed to see groomed and beribboned dogs from the shelter at the ends of the aisles. George raised our clasped hands above our heads and the crowd cheered, prompting a cacophony of barking and laughter that shattered the last of my nerves and left me grinning.

  “I have another surprise for you,” George murmured in my ear after we cut the cake and I had dutifully smeared frosting all over his face.

  “So long as it’s not retribution for the cake in the face, I’m ready,” I whispered back as I tried to wipe the mess from his nose with a cocktail napkin.

  Most of the afternoon was a blur of happy faces, congratulations, and a large bell that was rung every time one of our pups was adopted out. Thankfully, our required public time was over eventually, and Shaylen followed me upstairs to change out of my wedding dress into my honeymoon outfit. I was surprised when she handed me my bikini, shorts, and a tee shirt.

  “George’s orders.” She shrugged and left me alone to finish dressing, and I cried a little, finally free to do so without fear of bad pictures. I put on the bikini and covered up with my too-short shorts that George loved best and my favorite tee shirt. Then I cried a little more because I knew without him telling me exactly where we were going to spend our first night as a married couple, and it was so perfect, it dwarfed the entire rest of the day.

  I strutted down the stairs, owning my ass-baring glory because I didn’t know what else I could do, and met my husband at the bottom. I looked down at myself and arched my eyebrows at him, earning a grin in response.

  “You look good,” he whispered in my ear as I hugged him.

  “I look like a tramp,” I scoffed under my breath.

  “A hot tramp who is married to me, and by the way, while you were changing, we counted the donations. Over five grand and still coming in.” I looked up at him, my mouth in a surprised “O.”

  “Well, for that I’d even shake my rump a little,” I teased. He frowned and took my arm.

  “No time, got to go. Thanks, everybody, got to get to our honeymoon, see y’all when we get back…” His voice trailed off as he pretended to drag me out the front door. His mother and her sense of propriety stopped him before he made it too far, and with a few more pictures and a bouquet toss, we were finally free of the crowd, and mounting our horses. Xavi and Slinky stayed behind, and I leaned over to George.

  “Are you sure you don’t want Xavier to come along?” He shook his head and smiled.

  “I have the only thing I need with me tonight. He can stay and have a little rest of his own.” Jackson tugged the leashes a little and both dogs followed him happily toward the kitchen and the table scraps they knew they’d find there.

  I looked out over my friends and family gathered together to wish us well, including the new faces: Verica, who stood with the bouquet in her hands and her head on Pete’s chest, George’s new friend Mike, who stood with an arm around Shaylen, even my parents held hands and cried together as they watched us leave. My heart was full to bursting and joy flowed in hot salty tears down my cheeks as I turned to my husband and nodded.

  It was time for us to go to our place – our island on the lake, the place that would forever hold and keep our love no matter how far from it life took us. I followed his lead and we set our horses for the western horizon. Behin
d us were the people who loved us most, who had taught us, protected us, and nurtured us until we were strong enough to stand for each other without help.

  Ahead of us was the unwritten future. I rode towards the setting sun with my husband at my side and wondered if I could ever show him how much this day had meant to me. He was the only man I had ever, could ever love.

  The soldier of my dreams, builder of my soul, the cowboy of my heart.

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  WHATEVER HE WANTS: THE COMPLETE SERIES

  By Alexa Davis

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 Alexa Davis

  WHATEVER HE WANTS

  Part #1

  Chapter One: Tristan

  "What's it going to take, Janice?" I asked through gritted teeth. I could feel my palms sweating as I leaned against the oak table in my lawyer's office and resisted the urge to visibly wipe them on my slacks. Not only would it make me look fucking weak, but it would ruin my favorite Italian suit. Fuck, the damn bitch drove me crazy. Thank God this was the last time I would ever have to see her conniving face again.

  "My client wants one hundred million dollars," her lawyer said like he was asking for a hundred dollar bill, instead of a million of them.

  "Are you out of your fucking mind?" I shouted out. I wanted to lunge across the table and strangle the bitch, but my lawyer's hand on my shoulder reminded me to keep my cool.