The Navy SEAL's E-Mail Order Bride (Heroes of Chance Creek)

by Seton, Cora

  Much.

  She was greedy for his attention, though. She wanted to chat with him about their plans and life and… everything. She wanted to hear about his time in the military, but when she brought it up, he shrugged it off, except to tell her the vaguest platitudes about the camaraderie he’d felt with his team and how honored he’d felt to serve his country. She knew those platitudes were true, but she also knew there had to be more. You didn’t rise as far in the ranks of an elite military group like the SEALs without finding yourself in some tough places. She recognized that he wanted to shield her from all that—and that he might not want to probe too deeply into his years of service with someone who hadn’t walked a similar path. Still, she wasn’t some wilting daisy. She wanted to be Mason’s partner. She hoped he knew he could depend on her when times got tough.

  She loved talking to Mason. And touching him. Holding up boards while he screwed them in? It wasn’t the same.

  It was all too clear Mason was worried about the state of the Hall and Zeke’s debts. Several men had stopped by in trucks in the time they were working. One or two had been curt, but the others had been cordial enough and welcomed her to Chance Creek politely. Still, sooner or later they gave an excuse to get Mason alone. After they drove away, Mason’s mood grew grim.

  She wished she could lighten his load, but all she could do was hold boards and hand him screws—and keep him company, whether they spoke or not. Last night he had made an effort to put his cares aside and pay attention to her. She knew it cost him to do so, and her love for him grew. He was a thoughtful man. An honorable one, too. He hadn’t thought twice about paying his uncle’s loans, even though it was putting him in a tenuous position.

  “Why didn’t Heloise pay off Zeke’s debts?” she had asked him when they were getting ready for bed.

  “I doubt she’s aware of them. No one from these parts would approach an old lady and try to wring money from her.”

  “They don’t have any problem approaching you.”

  “That’s different. I’m a man in my prime with the ability to earn an income—not a woman in an assisted living situation. Besides, I’ve got the ranch. They figure I’ll start earning again soon. Don’t worry about it, honey. I’ll see us through.” He kissed her, but she could tell he was worried—very worried.

  “Are you still going to ask your friends and neighbors for help?”

  He turned onto his back and laced his hands behind his head. “I can’t. Not now—not until I’ve set things right with everyone. You can understand that, can’t you? I know it’s making it rough on you and me, but…” He trailed off.

  She understood. Mason’s sense of honor was well developed. How could he put himself further into debt with the people his uncle owed money to?

  “We’ll get it all done—me and you.” She climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. He put his hands on her thighs and traced them over her hips. “We can do anything together, can’t we?”

  “You are one in a million, Regan Anderson.”

  “You aren’t half bad yourself, Mason Hall.”

  Midway through their second day they switched to the large barn. Just as before, they started by replacing planks of the exterior walls that had rotted out or broken off. Then they turned their attention to the loft.

  “This is structural,” Mason said with a frown. “We’ll have to be careful how we fix it.”

  It took another quick trip to town and a lot of swearing to get new supports in place before they replaced the joists that had given up the ghost. Regan was impressed by Mason’s careful workmanship—his desire to get things right. He was a stickler for safety, too—ordering her back when there was any danger.

  Once the structural elements were solid, they began to cut boards to re-floor the loft. After a quick dinner—barely more than a sandwich eaten standing up near the truck—Regan reminded him she needed to go back to the Hall to wash up before her meeting. Mason nodded. “Go—rest a little if you can, first. You’ve worked hard.” He gave her a long, lingering kiss. “Don’t let Emma monopolize you too long, though. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  “I bet you will.”

  When he mock growled at her, she shrieked and ran away. Mason gave chase, hooked her around the waist and toppled her to the ground, cushioning her fall, but straddling her just the same when she was down.

  “Now I’ve got you.”

  “Yes, you have,” she agreed happily. When he bent to ravish her, she gave herself up to it willingly and ten minutes later she was breathless, her clothing awry and her heart pounding. No one had ever affected her like Mason did. Whenever he was close, every nerve in her body came alive, longing for him. She wouldn’t stay long in town. Not with Mason waiting for her back at home. Not with a whole night ahead of them.

  Or as much of a night as they could stay awake for.

  Back at the hall, she took his advice, setting the alarm on her cell phone and lying down to rest after her shower. It was lucky she had the foresight to do so, because she was fast asleep on their new bed when it went off.

  In town she easily located Linda’s Diner, and when she went indoors, Emma was already there. She had a folder of paperwork in front of her that she slid across to Regan as soon as she sat down. A waitress appeared and took Regan’s order, bringing her a cup of tea a moment later. Regan refused the offer of a slice of pie and opened the folder to take a look.

  “Wow—a bakery?” she asked Emma when she’d scanned the first page. Emma nodded vigorously. “Have you ever managed a bakery before?”

  “Yes—all through college, actually. I started out working the counter at a coffee shop in Billings where I went to school, but as soon as they figured out I’d show up to work at three-thirty in the morning consistently if that meant I could bake, they handed the whole operation over to me. I learned how to order supplies and set a menu. I know how to run the equipment and I’ve done all the food safety courses.”

  “That all sounds great. How much do you have for a deposit?”

  Emma told her how much she’d saved, the cost of the building she wanted and the estimate of her expenses for the first year. Regan quickly realized her numbers were right on the edge of acceptable. If she had any problems she might be in trouble.

  “Do you think I should have waited until I had more money?” Emma asked in a small voice. “I know I’m cutting it thin.”

  “It would help if you had an emergency fund.” Regan flipped through the paperwork again. “Wait a minute—the apartment above the shop has three bedrooms.”

  Emma nodded. “So?”

  “So what about rental income? Do you have any friends who would move in with you? You could charge each of them two hundred and fifty dollars a month, and that extra five hundred a month could help pay your mortgage.”

  “I didn’t even think of that.”

  They went over all Emma’s numbers again, one at a time, and Regan was able to show her several adjustments that made her bottom line look more solid to the bank. At the end of their meeting, Emma was thrilled.

  “That was so helpful. I feel like I have a shot now.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Regan beamed at the compliment. “Good luck with your appointment. You’ll have to let me know what happens.”

  “I will. Hey, I have a friend who’s buying out an existing business and I know she could use some help, too. She wants to make some changes in the way they do things, so she needs to make a budget and find out how much she can spend up front. Could you help her with that?”

  “Sure. Just have her call.” Regan jotted down her cell phone number on a napkin.

  Emma took it uncertainly. “You need to get some business cards made up.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

  “I do. Get some made so I can spread the word about you. How are things going on the ranch?” She seemed more at ease now that they’d gone over her paperwork.

  Regan wasn’t sure how much to tell her. “I love the H
all, and I like working with Mason, but…”

  “But what?”

  “He’s really worried. I’m sure you’ve heard about his uncle’s debts.”

  Emma nodded. “I think everyone has.”

  “Well, it’s just killing Mason. He’s so proud he can’t bear to have anyone think ill of him or his family. He wants to make sure he pays off every cent Zeke owes. Meanwhile, we’re doing the best we can to fix the place up, but it’s just the two of us.” She shrugged helplessly. “It’s slow going.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  Regan decided it was time to turn the conversation to lighter topics and she didn’t stay much longer, although she enjoyed the chance to chat with another woman. As she drove home, fighting to stay awake, she wondered if Emma was right. Maybe she had the start of a new business in her hands—one she could run right from the ranch.

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‡

  By the time they were ready to tackle the pasture fencing a week later, Mason’s worry had grown dangerously close to panic. He was pushing himself as hard as he could and there were still items on his checklist each day that didn’t get done. Gone were the early morning lovemaking sessions with Regan. They got up as soon as the alarm went off. When it got dark, he brought Regan home over her protestations, ate a quick dinner with her, then went back out to accomplish anything else that could be done by flashlight. He showered and stumbled into bed when he simply couldn’t move anymore, then got up to do it again the next day. Hardly twenty-four hours went by that he wasn’t made aware of another of Zeke’s debts. He’d paid the grocery store, the liquor store, several doctors and a dentist, a number of Zeke’s friends, the fish and tackle store, and a grizzled old man who apparently kept Zeke’s truck running. This wasn’t the introduction to ranch life he’d wanted for Regan, but she was being a great sport. He tried to do everything he could to show her his appreciation. She was a great sport about that as well.

  Still, if they didn’t get a move on, they would lose this chance to inherit the ranch. If only Austin could get home sooner, they’d be able to work at twice the pace. Regan was amazing, but she struggled to keep up with him. Zeke’s damn debts had put him in an untenable position—a work party or two would have given him a leg up on his lists, but with only Regan to help him, he was losing ground fast.

  He knew they’d have to do the best they could and trust that things would work out. He’d thought about asking Heloise to back off on her outrageous deadlines. Instinct told him not to do so, however. He was in her favor now, but she could just as easily change her mind and leave the Hall to Darren or one of his kids. At the end of the day, Mason didn’t care about the money—he cared about the land.

  Which was all well and good, except he needed more money. Which meant another uncomfortable call to his brothers. While Regan puttered in the kitchen getting her breakfast, he set up his laptop in the bedroom so she wouldn’t hear the gist of their conversation. They’d gotten an internet connection installed to the Hall finally, so at least he no longer needed to run to town. When all three of his brothers were connected, he gave them an update on the state of things.

  “This could bankrupt us, you know,” Zane said when he was done.

  “Heloise said she’d return the money to us if we failed to get the ranch up and running. Eventually.” He didn’t mention the circumstances in which they’d get it.

  “Meanwhile, we’ll have given everything we’ve got to the place and Darren will make off with it in the end.”

  “It isn’t going to come to that. Not if each of us does what he’s supposed to do.”

  No one answered that and Mason could see that none of them had made any progress on finding a wife. “For God’s sake, if I can find a woman the rest of you can, too.”

  “Do you know how I’m spending my days?” Austin said, his face filling the screen. “Getting shot at. In case you forgot, the three of us are still fighting for our country while you romp in the hay with your girlfriend.”

  “I’m not romping.” Not as often as he wanted to, anyway. “Besides, Colt’s not fighting for his country. He’s in Florida, for crying out loud. There’s all kinds of women in Florida.”

  “Not any I want to marry.” Colt drawled out his words.

  “Are you going to send the damn money or not?” Mason had had enough of the conversation.

  “We’ll send it.” Austin’s tone was still hard. “But you’d better watch every penny and you’d better hold up your end. Just because you’ve got a girl playing house with you in the Hall doesn’t mean you’re any closer to marriage than we are. And you’re no damn closer to having a baby. If you don’t step it up, then we’re throwing our cash down a rathole!”

  “Are you calling the Hall a rathole?”

  Austin cut the connection.

  “You’d better back off, Mason.” Zane was giving him a hard look. “Things are pretty tense over here just now. Austin’s unit has had it tough.”

  “Well it ain’t no picnic here, either.”

  “No one’s shooting at you, are they?” That was Colt.

  “No.” Of course not. They were right—he was blowing this out of proportion. He didn’t seem to be able to keep things in proportion these days.

  “Look, I know you’re carrying the brunt of Heloise’s craziness. I know it’s tough—you love that place, just like I do.” Zane held his gaze. “So get the mission done. Whatever it takes.”

  Mason nodded, shame welling up in his chest, an uncomfortable feeling he wasn’t used to. His brothers were right; he was panicking like a raw recruit. He could get this done. He had to. “You’re right. I’ll handle it. You guys just stay safe and get on home. With wives.”

  He cut the connection, too.

  Two hours later, after another trip to town, he and Regan set out with spools of wire and all the tools they’d need in the back of the truck he’d bought second-hand from a dealership in town. They’d spent the previous day shoring up the fence posts. Today they had to attach the wire. They could have walked to the closest pasture, but by the end of the day they’d cover a lot of ground and the spools, especially, were heavy. They’d need the vehicle throughout the process.

  The day was overcast and Mason hoped the rain would hold off, as the weatherman had predicted. He hadn’t allotted time for bad weather. He couldn’t. He handed Regan a pair of work gloves, lifted a spool of plain wire out of the back of the truck and brought it to the corner post. He showed Regan how to start off by wrapping the end of the wire around the post several times before tying it off to itself. Together they picked up the rod that went through the large spool of wire and walked down the length of the pasture to the next wooden post, letting the wire play out behind them.

  In between the sturdy wooden posts were smaller metal ones to hold up the wire and give the fence more structure. Once the wire was strung between the wooden ones, Mason demonstrated how to use a small come-along to pull it tight. “Not too tight,” he cautioned her, showing her how much play to leave in the line as he cranked it. “Now comes the fun part.”

  The wire had to be tied to each metal post along the length of the side of the pasture. A time-consuming, annoying task, it was all too easy to tear up your gloves—and your hands—on the sharp metal ties. The small lengths of metal hooked around the wire on one side of the metal bars, bent around to the other side of the support, and needed to be wrapped around the wire again with a pair of pliers. Once he’d shown Regan how it was done, he handed her a bag of ties and her own pair of pliers and set her to work. He walked to the far end of the field to work his way back to her. When he glanced over his shoulder, she was hard at it. She was a hell of a woman. He wished he was showing her a better time. They hadn’t even made love in the last few days.

  Time to lighten things up, even if only for a moment. “Race you,” he called. “Winner gets to feel up the loser.” He was rewarded with a smile from Regan, but he had to work hard to feel like playing games. He to
ld himself his father wouldn’t have succumbed to worry like he was, but the thought of his balance sheet sinking like a stone through pond water made it hard to think of anything else.

  “That game seems stacked against me,” Regan called back, already hard at work.

  “Do you mind?”

  “Not really.”

  She was right; he moved far faster than she did since he had more experience and stronger muscles in his hands and arms. He had the goad of knowing his dream was slipping through his fingers, too. Once in a while he heard a muffled oath and knew her pliers had slipped or she’d dropped a tie. When he glanced her way, she was working quickly.

  “I’m going to beat you!” she said when she saw him looking.

  “I doubt it.” When he passed the halfway mark, he shook off his dark thoughts, threw down his pliers, strode over to her and lifted her right off the ground, spinning her in a circle. He set her down, slid his hands up under her shirt and bra, and caressed her breasts until they tightened into stiff peaks. He growled low in his throat. “I should have said the winner gets to do more than feel up the loser.”

  “We’ve got work to do. Lots of it. Time for playing tonight when we’re done.” She knocked the cowboy hat he wore today low down over his nose.

  “Hey.” He cocked it back and stole a kiss. “All right, but you’d better be ready for some serious action tonight.”

  “Don’t worry—I will be.” But Regan wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. “Who is that?”

  He turned to see a dark green Chevy truck rumbling down the track that led to the pastures. Whoever it was must have stopped at the house first, found it empty and decided to come looking for them. His heart sank again. Anyone that determined had to have bad news. He released her and she smoothed her clothing back into place.