Mission Happy (A Texas Desires Novel Book 3)

by Rylie Roberts

  “I can let you go,” he offered, except he so didn’t want to at all.

  “No, I’m done and all alone. What’s going on with you?” she asked, her voice turning light and airy, making everything right in his world. How did she always seem to do that?

  “I’m heading home,” he said, contemplating how easily she could change his mood.

  “You sound like you’ve been having a good time.”

  “It was all right, I guess. Good that the guys came out. What did you do today?” he asked. So much of his life had always required secrecy. He never talked about himself. One of the many adjustments he’d need to make once he became a civilian again.

  “I worked and stopped by Kenzie’s for a little bit. I got to tell Ty he missed your visit. That was a funny moment,” she said with a deep, sensual little chuckle.

  “Yeah, he called me right about the time the guys showed up this afternoon,” he added. Honestly, he liked the idea of Julie and Kenzie being friends. If this continued with Julie, he could see them all hanging out together. Well, if he stayed in California, which he wouldn’t do. He couldn’t make a living here.

  The sadness came back, and he immediately squashed all those thoughts. Besides, now absolutely wasn’t the time to be thinking long-term or relationship. He was in survival mode. Day by day.

  “That was early for happy hour,” she said, breaking the silence that fell between them.

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  “The times I’ve seen you before, you weren’t really drinking.” She sounded more concerned than scolding, and he frowned as he walked up the steps to his townhome.

  “I’m not usually a big drinker. Desperate times, I guess.” He gave a dark chuckle as he put the beer down to retrieve his front door key.

  “What’s going on, Connor? You can tell me. I promise I’m safe,” she said.

  “I know you’re safe. I guess I don’t really want to talk about it,” he said, unlocking the door and shoving it open. His fuzzy brain had him forgetting the beer until he kicked the cans as he moved forward.

  “Did you talk about it with Ty?” she asked.

  He stayed silent as he checked the cans. He’d need every one of those tonight. Nothing could happen to any of them.

  “You there?”

  “Yeah, I am, and nah, not really. I told Bateman I was thinking of leaving the military, but he’s got his hands full with Kenzie right now,” he said, kicking the door closed with his foot before taking his unharmed beer to the refrigerator.

  “Why are you leaving the military? I thought that was your thing.”

  Shit, he hadn’t even told her that much. Damn. Standing alone in his kitchen, he left the refrigerator door open and the beer on the counter as he leaned back against a cabinet and closed his eyes.

  “Connor, what’s going on?”

  “It’s not really my choice to leave,” he finally said.

  “What’s that mean?” she asked immediately.

  He stood there several long moments searching for the words. When nothing but the truth came to mind, he reached for a can and popped the top. To say the words aloud, he needed the liquid courage and took a long drink of warm beer before he answered.

  “It’s a long story, but in the end, they diagnosed me with PTSD, and they found something on my brain that makes them think combat trauma. I can’t have either one of those things and do the job I do for the military,” he explained and took another longer drink.

  “Connor, I’m sorry. I had no idea.” Julie words held sincerity. Part of the reason he hadn’t told anyone was that he didn’t do pity well, and he wasn’t at all certain that he liked her feeling sorry for him. “What’re you gonna do? Can you fight it?”

  “Being up there yesterday was my attempt to fight it. The appointment was my second opinion and his findings were worse than the first opinion,” he said, then took another big gulp, finishing off the can.

  “So what’s this mean?”

  “Well, I’m now on medical leave. I need to think. Get a plan. I thought today that I might go home to Texas for a few weeks,” he said.

  “When?”

  “Whenever I load up and go, I guess,” he answered. As he tossed the empty can in the trash, he finally noticed the only light in the room came from the open refrigerator. He reached out, shutting that door with his foot, plunging the room into complete darkness.

  “Can I come down there and see you before you go?” she asked, hopefully.

  “I guess you could, but you don’t have to. It’s a long drive and you work,” he said. He wanted her to come, no question there. He wished she were there right then. It just scared him to want her. He had nothing to offer and the risk of heartache seemed high. He was already into her. He wasn’t sure his heart could take another loss.

  “I want to, Connor. This is terrible. You sound so sad,” Julie said.

  Yep, she pretty much nailed it.

  “Are you ready?” he heard a female voice in the background ask Julie.

  “Give me a minute,” she replied.

  “Go do what you have to do,” Connor said and pushed away from the counter, reaching for the overhead light switch. Despite the extra beer, he’d sobered up since talking to her, and his hungry stomach gave a loud rumble.

  “When can I come?” she asked urgently. “I could come Sunday about noon. I get off early, but I’d have to come back that night. I have early call all week.”

  “Julie, you don’t have to. It’s probably not the best time for me to start something.” He tried to make her see reason.

  “I want to, Connor. I feel bad for you. Please let me.” God help him, but he wanted her to come so bad. He reached over, placed the beer in the refrigerator, and stepped away. That would lead to a hangover; he didn’t need that if she were coming.

  “Do you want me to meet you somewhere, maybe halfway so you don’t have to drive all this way?” he asked, his attitude already picking up.

  “No, it’s better for me to be inside your house. Besides, I have a driver, remember? Road rage…” she said sheepishly. That caused him to actually laugh. She was just so sweet. She couldn’t be all that bad on the road.

  “I’d like to see that,” he said, chuckling at the thought.

  “If we keep this going, eventually you will.”

  He heard laughter in the background and someone yelled, “Demons possess her body. It’s scary.”

  “Hush! I’m trying to make him like me!”

  He liked those words, a solid smile touching his lips for the first time that day.

  “I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” he said.

  “What?” Julie asked.

  “Liking you. I’m pretty much there.” There was silence for so long that he started to feel a little awkward, which said a lot because he was a master at quiet. “I hope that’s okay to say.”

  “It is. You made me happy. So I’m coming for the evening?” she confirmed, that sweetness back in her voice. He liked that a lot.

  “If you want. Don’t feel obligated.”

  “I don’t. I’ll call when we’re on our way,” she said.

  “Okay. Good night.” He lowered the phone and started to end the call when he heard her yell out.

  “Connor, don’t have a hangover!”

  He lifted the phone back to his ear. “You’re nagging already?” Connor laughed as he let that sit between them. “I’ll text you the address. If you change your mind or want me to drive up, I will.”

  “I’m good coming there. Good night, Connor.”

  “Good night.” This time he did end the call.

  He sent a text with his address, then looked around his house. He hadn’t restarted the house cleaning service since he’d been back and the place was a mess. He had his work cut out for him if he planned to romance Julie.

  Chapter 6

  Connor did a full circle around the living room, taking in everything about the small apartment as the ticking from the wall clock
taunted him. From this angle, he could see the kitchen, dining area, bathroom, and bedroom, checking them all out with a critical eye. He’d spent most of the day yesterday cleaning the place from top to bottom. Honestly, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a woman in his space, and it definitely showed as he looked around at the mishmash of style in his mostly used furniture. Now, he wished he’d paid better attention, built a better-looking home, because Julie didn’t fit here at all.

  Just another weight to add to the boulders on his shoulders.

  Too late. Nothing could be done now, so he focused on the area he liked the most—the patio. He’d actually spent his money out there. A nice patio table and chairs, some benches, a small refrigerator, hand-built fire pit and a huge custom built grill that he’d won after the big special teams’ cook-off where he’d been crowned Grill Master of the event. That area of his house was a huge source of pride. He spent most his time there when he was home and had even bought new patio chair cushions yesterday.

  He stood at the sliding glass door, staring out at the patio, and furrowed his brow. His favorite space didn’t seem to fit her either. His heart gave a little desperate squeeze. He liked her and wanted to keep her around. He needed something that fit her better, so she’d be comfortable around him.

  “You’re unemployed, ass,” he reminded himself aloud. He hadn’t had time to worry about his future income, so he had no idea what he could afford for himself, much less the ability to consider an upgrade right now.

  Connor left that thought right there and swung toward the kitchen, using all his mental energy to push the encroaching anxiety away. He’d give himself one night before he put all his mental effort into figuring his shit out. For now, it was okay to like Julie, and without question, he’d be honest with her. He didn’t want to use her, but tomorrow he’d work on creating distance—literally. He planned to load up and head home to Texas for a few weeks.

  Rounding the corner into the kitchen, he looked at all the food. Damn, he’d overdone. He could feed a small army on everything he’d bought this morning, but he just couldn’t decide what she liked. When they’d eaten together, she hadn’t seemed picky, she’d eaten everything he’d ordered. She appeared to like food as much as he did even though she was a skinny thing. That same unsure buying process applied to the liquor and drinks. He’d packed his counter and refrigerator with sodas, waters, tea, and at least ten different bottles of alcohol.

  His stomach roiled at the thought of liquor. He’d had too much alcohol the last couple of days. His body was dehydrated. He yanked open the refrigerator door and grabbed a cold water bottle, then chugged it down while standing there.

  He sent the empty water bottle flying toward the trashcan, resisting the urge to lift both arms above his head as he scored. Connor bent to check the two thick rib eyes marinating on one shelf, then lifted to peek under the foil at the nice-sized chicken breasts marinating on the top shelf. He’d made a salad—she seemed like a lettuce lover—and had a pot of beans simmering on the stove. Also, he’d made sure he had everything required to fix the very cherry martinis she liked so much.

  With everything together and a little time to kill, he went back through the living room to the bathroom and checked his appearance for about the hundredth time. He’d done more than his usual in the grooming department. He ran a finger over his somewhat tweezed eyebrows and lifted his chin to check his nose. Then he pushed a hand inside his jeans, making sure everything lay just right for the hard-on that was sure to come once she arrived. Connor quickly washed his hands, drying them, then refolded the guest towels. He hoped the bathroom looked a little nicer.

  When he still hadn’t killed enough time, he used his nervous energy to pack. He grabbed his oversized duffle bag from the top of his closet, and pulled some jeans off the shelf, then went for the T-shirts, added a couple of dress shirts for Lara’s baby shower and anything else that might come up before he tossed in some underwear, socks, and went for his always packed and ready to go hunting gear. When the bag was full, he looked inside, making sure he had everything he needed.

  Connor closed the long zipper. His heart picked up speed in his chest when the doorbell rang. He ran a hand over the thin knit sweater he’d chosen to wear today, and he glanced down at his jeans, hoping she hadn’t dressed up.

  A smile touched his lips as he went for the door. She was finally there. He released his pent-up breath realizing he’d half expected her to stand him up.

  When he opened the door, his eyes landed on Julie’s pretty face and a full-on happy took over his heart. The abrupt attitude change registered in his brain as he stepped back and opened the door wider. The shock of his happiness—such a foreign concept since the incident in Syria—erased the lingering effects of the dark cloud hanging over his head.

  “You’re right on time,” he said, extending a hand. She stepped inside, pushing back the hood of her light pink trench coat, lifting her hair then letting the tresses swing loose. The belt came free, and he found her dressed about the same as the day they’d first met, except, instead of the capris, she wore a flowy skirt that accentuated those long legs.

  Almost instantly, his dick plumped. Thank God he’d prepared.

  “My driver plans everything down to the minute. I’m only late when I don’t stick to his schedule, or so he keeps telling me,” she said, smiling up at him. Connor had started to shut the front door, but stopped, looking outside.

  “Is your driver out there? Does he need to come inside?”

  “No, he prefers not to socialize like that. He’s very strict on the employee-employer boundaries. That’s another area that’s gray for me. I don’t meet too many strangers,” she said, taking the door from him and shutting it. Julie shrugged off her coat as she moved into the living room. She draped the trench coat over a nearby chair and turned back to him, smiling. “You’re being quiet. Am I talking too much or are we gonna be weird?”

  He just grinned at her, tucking his fingers in his front pockets. She was truly one of the most genuine women he’d ever met. Good thing his memory hadn’t gotten that part wrong. “I don’t think so. It’s hard to be uncomfortable around you. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Sure. What do you have?” she asked, following behind him.

  “Well, I’m pretty sure I have a little bit of everything.”

  He went the few feet to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, pushing the door back far enough for her to look inside. He bent to move things around, so she could see the selection. “Anything. I got the makings for the martini you like, too.”

  Her laugh caused him to look over his shoulder at her. She had a hip perched against the counter across from him, her arms crossed over her chest. The smirk was clear.

  Shit. He did have it bad for her. His heart stuttered from just looking at her expression.

  “It’s incredibly sexy to have you remembering what I drink.” That caused him to bark out a laugh as he stood and faced her.

  “It wasn’t hard. You had about fifteen of them,” he said, reaching behind him to shut the door.

  “I did not.” She straightened to her full height, looking a little offended in that adorable way she had about herself.

  “Kind of you did. But just because I have the makings doesn’t mean I know how to make it. We’d have to google it if you don’t know. So don’t make fun if they don’t turn out right.”

  She stepped toward him, her expressive face changing again as she threaded her fingers together in front of her.

  “I think I’ll start with water. I don’t want to be too easy for you,” she said teasingly, waggling her eyebrows before pivoting on her heels, leaving the kitchen and him behind. His gaze tracked her every move. He liked the way her skirt swung with the sway of her hips, so he leaned around the doorframe to watch her go.

  The chuckle he gave was more because of his reaction to her than anything she’d said. He reached for a water bottle and started toward her, but stoppe
d as he had another thought. He went back to grab a glass then some ice, and poured the water for her.

  She stood at his sliding glass door, staring at his patio. He walked to her, standing almost close enough to slide his arms around her waist. He didn’t though, instead he extended the glass around her.

  “I didn’t think you watched television,” she said, accepting the glass while turning toward him. He didn’t move, neither did she, even though there was less than a foot between them. She rested her back against the glass of the door.

  “I don’t really,” he said. He soaked in her features, her clear skin—not a freckle in sight, such an odd contrast to the auburn in her hair.

  “That’s an awful big TV for a guy who doesn’t watch,” she teased, nodding toward the wall behind him. He took a second to glance over his shoulder before focusing back on her. She was far more interesting to look at than his furnishings.

  “Yeah, I guess. Maybe someday I’ll get around to hooking it up. Technology isn’t my strong suit.”

  Her pretty face lit with laughter, and he clenched his fists at his sides then shoved his fingers inside his jeans pockets to keep from reaching out to touch her.

  “It’s not hooked up?”

  “No. I’ve had it about a year. It’s bigger than the wall, I think,” he said, somewhat distracted. He could hear the tone of his voice deepening as his eyes continued to scan her face. He couldn’t deny her beauty. He wanted her just as badly as he had the first time they’d met. When she lifted the glass, taking a sip, he stared at her lips. He remembered everything about their feel, the touch, the texture, the way they moved along his body… He’d never been so jealous of anything in his life as he was of that glass at this moment. His eyes lingered on her mouth before lifting back to her stare. “You’re beautiful.”

  “Thank you. I like when you say those things,” she said. Her voice may have been pitched a hint lower and the pupils of those blue eyes narrowed in lust.

  He’d told himself she wasn’t a booty call type of woman. If he got the chance tonight, he needed to go slow. Truth be told, he wasn’t entirely sure why she had even decided to come. His memory was a little fuzzy where that conversation was concerned, but if he didn’t at least touch her, he might just explode from the need building inside him.