He was halfway finished with inventorying the bait when his phone rang. The screen flashed with the name “Trigger”.
“Trig. Where are you?”
Bowie had served two tours in Afghanistan with Trig Whatley. He left the service a year ago. The same IED that sent shrapnel slicing through Bowie’s gut had completely removed Trig’s leg. It had been a long recovery for his friend, but they’d stayed in touch.
“I heard you got out. You could have come to California, where the weather’s warm and the girls wear Band-Aids and string to the beach.”
The only people who knew Bowie had been released were the men from his unit and his family. It wasn’t something he broadcasted around. The shame of being considered unfit for duty chewed at his insides and ate up his self-esteem. If he wasn’t good enough to be dropped in the desert, what was he good for?
“I came back home for a visit. Haven’t seen my father or brother in years.”
“You staying there?”
Bowie looked around the bait shop. The inside resembled a cabin, with its knotty pine paneling. Stuffed fish hung from plaques on one wall. He still held the record for the biggest lake trout, which hung in the center of the smaller trophies.
“Nope. Just hanging out for a bit.”
“Any hot chicks?”
He thought about the town and the female population. There were quite a few single women in town, most of whom he’d known in high school, but when Trig asked about hot chicks, only one came to mind. That was Katie. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Nice rack. Small waist. Perfect heart-shaped ass.
“No, man. There’s nothing worth getting excited about over here in Aspen Cove. No Band-Aids or string bikinis.” There was Katie, but he wanted to keep her his little secret. Besides, he wasn’t sure how he felt about her but he wasn’t interested in sharing.
“That sucks. Have you heard about Sledge?”
Bowie laughed. Sledge had been the newest guy in the platoon. Got his nickname from hammering every girl he could talk into his tent.
“No. What about him?” He hoped he didn’t fall by way of injury, like himself and Trig.
“He knocked someone up, and now he’s a baby daddy, but the kicker is, she had the baby, handed it over to him, and then left. He’s asses to elbows in diapers and formula.”
“You’re shitting me!” Bowie took a seat on the stool behind the counter. He dumped out a collection of flies that needed sorting. “Sledge is raising a kid?”
“Sure as shit, man. No help either. He blames it on the sand.”
“Blames what on the sand?”
“The pregnancy.”
What an idiot. “We both know sand mixed with an egg doesn’t produce a kid.”
“True enough. That’s not it. He says the heat mixed with the constant blowing sand undermined the effectiveness of his condom supply. Something about the foil packages getting blasted in the field.”
Bowie continued to separate the flies by type. “I used plenty of condoms in the field and never had a failure.”
“She’s a beautiful little girl. Named her Sandra.”
Bowie shook his head. “Perfect. And I bet he’ll call her Sandy as a reminder of his lame excuse.” He pulled out the plastic bin that held the flies and put the sorted ones in their corresponding sections. “What about you? How’s the leg?”
“Gone,” Trig said with his deadpan demeanor.
“No shit, Sherlock. I’m the one who tied the tourniquet.”
Bowie would never forget that day. It was on his list of the two worst days of his life. The first being the day Brandy and his mom died. The second being that day when the Humvee was cut in half by an IED. He’d been in the front passenger seat. Trig had been in the back. Two of their squad died that day. While Bowie’s gut bled like a fountain, he’d been more concerned with keeping Trig tied to Earth. Field training had him acting fast. He’d stopped the flow of blood before his buddy was emptied out, then took care of himself and waited for the medic, who was several hundred feet away in their caravan.
“Thank you for that. I wouldn’t be here without you.” There was a long pause. “As it turns out, I’ve got a slick new leg. Two, actually. One that looks more or less like my old leg down to the hair, and I’ve got a blade runner.”
“Are you running again?” Trig had been the fitness king of the platoon. He was always on the go. When he lost his leg, Bowie wasn’t sure if the man would recover. When you lose a limb, everything changes. He knew that to be certain. “I am. I’m thinking about giving the Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon a go this year.”
“Damn, that’s awesome.” He’d seen a lot of soldiers bounce back from horrific injuries. In fact, the men who suffered physical injury fared better than those with emotional scarring. Bowie had both.
Although Brandy wasn’t one of his appendages, she was a part of him. They had been connected at the hip their whole lives, so when she was gone, he felt incomplete. How did he move on from someone he loved so much? The memory of her remained chained around his heart. Losing her love pulled at him so tightly, he couldn’t breathe at times. How could he pretend that love hadn’t existed? It was near impossible, but he tried.
“What about you? Are you healing?”
That was a tough question. He would recover from his physical injuries. His leg would always act up. His joints would hurt. By the time he was fifty, who knew what his back would be like? But he was certain Trig wasn’t talking about those. He had been the only one Bowie had confided to about his losses.
“I’m still here.” It wasn’t saying much, but it was all he could say.
“That’s something, for sure. One thing I learned when my life was hanging in the balance was there weren’t an infinite amount of minutes. Use yours wisely, my friend.”
They said their goodbyes, and Bowie sat in the silence of the closed shop. He pulled out the faded picture of Brandy and wondered what she’d look like today. Where would their life have taken them? She wanted to stay in Aspen Cove, close to her mother and the people she had chosen as a family since hers had been so small. Bowie had wanted to explore the world. Now that he’d done that, he’d come back to the place they’d both called home. It had changed. He had changed. Everything had changed. But somehow, it was still home. He hated it and loved it all the same. There was comfort in knowing a person could leave for years and never be truly forgotten.
Rather than tuck the picture back into his wallet, he pinned it to the corkboard that had been hanging in the shop since he could remember. At the top it read, “All Stars”. That seemed the perfect place to memorialize Brandy. He knew he had to let her go. Trig was right. There were only so many minutes gifted to a lifetime. What would he do with his?
Once the inventory was complete, he stood by the door and looked over his shoulder at the picture of Brandy tacked to the wall. She would have loved more minutes in her life. She would have traded anything for them, and here he was wasting his. That had to change. He flipped off the lights and walked out. Tomorrow was a new day.
Chapter Eight
Katie supposed she could have asked Bowie to go rowing with her. It was another item she wanted to mark off her list. Fishing—check. Rowing—almost check. Roller blading—next. She had a list of low-risk activities she’d never tried. The problem was, doing them by herself wasn’t much fun. New experiences were better shared.
Now that Sage was with Cannon, they spent a lot of their time doing couples’ stuff. On the off chance Sage wasn’t with Cannon, she was at the clinic or taking care of her bed and breakfast guests. Much of the time, Katie was on her own.
The smell of muffins lifted through the floorboards. Ben was busy baking for the Sunday crowd. Who would have thought taking him in as a favor to Sage would turn him into the best employee she ever had? The only employee she ever had, but he was still top notch.
It was banana nut muffin day. Maybe she’d box up a few and bring them to Bowie. He was open until noon. That was part of the proble
m with small town businesses. They were too small to hire people and too dependent on the seasonal business to close down, so most of the business owners worked seven days a week. At least she had Ben.
Bowie had been hanging around for the last two days. He’d stick his head in the bakery and say hello, but he wouldn’t step inside. She understood how painful that might be. The bakery had to remind him of his loss.
She stayed clear of the alley behind the shops. Not because she didn’t want his kisses. She wanted to kiss him more than anything. She wrestled with her desire for Bowie. She wanted him, but would her desire make her dependent on him? Could she have him and not need him? She’d go after Bowie on her terms.
The trick was to get him to want her. Need her. Her decision on how to proceed was based on the laws of supply and demand. If her kisses were rare, then they would be sought. Who wanted a kiss they could get anytime they pleased?
With her mind made up, she dressed to attract in cut-off shorts she paired with a white tee and plaid shirt tied around her waist. On her feet were her favorite red cowboy boots. You could take the girl out of Texas, but you couldn’t take Texas out of the girl. She pulled her hair into a high ponytail and slicked on some pink gloss before she headed downstairs.
“Hey, Ben.”
She walked over to him and gave him a smooch on the cheek. A month ago, she thought he was close to seventy. He’d been gaunt and sickly looking with yellowed skin. Now that he’d plumped up, his skin pinked, and his eyes held a healthy glow, he looked more like his fifty-two years.
“Good morning, Katie. How did you sleep?”
“Like a baby.”
She slept well. Her cardiologist worried about the high altitude affecting her, but it hadn’t. The opposite was true. She found the crisp mountain air invigorating. To Katie, it was a calculated risk. She traded the smog and pollution for clean air and less oxygen. Over the years, she’d learned to listen to her body. She ate well. She exercised. She got plenty of rest.
Ben pulled a tray of muffins out of the oven and set them on the counter. “I’ve got an order for two dozen from Sage. I’m sure a dozen are for her and the rest for the guys coming in later this afternoon. She’s got a houseful of city slickers arriving soon. Pretty boys from Denver who think they can fish.”
“Pretty boys, huh?” She picked up a four-pack box and gently placed the warm muffins inside. “I’m not much for pretty boys, but it will be nice to have some new faces in town.”
“It’s a madhouse out there today.” Where no cars were parked last month was now a parking lot.
They both looked out the window at a full and bustling Main Street. Katie thought it was a beautiful day. The sun was out. The sky was blue. A perfect day to be on the water.
“What are you doing today?” Ben asked.
“Rowing this afternoon.”
She watched a woman lead her smiling child into the candy shop across the street. A resident of Gold Gulch set up the sweet shop where the tailor’s had once been. It was funny how sweet Aspen Cove had become with the bakery and candy shop and Maisey’s pies. Katie loved to watch the eyes of a child when they saw the lollipop as big as a dinner plate in the window or the taffy pulling machine working all day long making saltwater taffy in a rainbow of colors.
“But first I’m delivering muffins to your son, and then I’m going shopping. I saw Abby bringing in a box of goodies last night. I’m certain something in it was meant for me.” The reality was, Katie rarely bought anything for herself. Most of the trinkets she purchased, she sent to her family and friends.
The dry goods store across the street was one of her favorite stops. New things got delivered every day. Yesterday, she bought deer jerky. She couldn’t say she was a fan, but she got to cross eat wild game off her list, and Ben finished it so nothing got wasted.
Anything Abby Garrett made with her honey was a favorite—especially the soaps and lotions that seemed to turn Katie’s dry skin into silk.
Even Cannon had a few things in the country store. He’d started whittling again. Although Christmas was far away, the ornaments he carved were sold as fast as he made them. Katie would never tell him she was the one who bought them up like they were underpriced diamonds. They were her guilty pleasure. She hoped he carved enough of them to fill her Christmas tree. She loved the animals the best, but the Santas and angels were nice, too.
Katie turned to Ben. “Close up at noon. You need time off, too.”
“Thanks, Boss.” It was funny to have Ben call her “Boss”, but she supposed the weekly paycheck she’d given him made it true. “I’ve got a date with Maisey tonight.”
Katie almost dropped the muffin box. “Maisey?” She didn’t see that one coming. “That’s great. Where are you two going?”
Ben smiled. “We’re going to Copper Creek to watch that new Liam Neeson movie.”
“Ooh, I hear it’s a real nail-biter. Have fun, Ben.”
She left the bakery with pep in her step. Miracles happened every day around her. For the first time in a long time, she was happy. She could only be happier if a grumpy ex-soldier decided she was worth more than a good time.
She entered Bishop’s Bait and Tackle for the first time ever. It reminded her of a miniature Bass Pro Shops. The only thing it was missing was a jumbo fish tank and a bunch of taxidermy wildlife.
She figured it would smell like salmon eggs or the dirt the night crawlers lived in, but it didn’t. It smelled like Bowie, which was a combination of amber and pine and pure male.
“Duchess,” he said in that slow, lazy way he’d perfected. The sound left a tingle tripping down her spine, as if Bowie had slid his tongue from that sensitive part of her neck all the way to her ear lobe. “What brings you in here? Going fishing again?”
She stood about ten feet from the counter and lifted the muffin box like it was a sacrificial offering. “No. I came bearing gifts—banana nut muffins.”
He leaned forward and smelled the air. “All I smell is you.”
She shifted her head to the side. “What do I smell like?”
“Trouble.” He patted the counter in front of him. “Come closer. I won’t bite, and if I do … you’ll like it.”
That kind of talk made her knees buckle. She liked a man who was confident enough to say what was on his mind. She’d like him better if he could deliver on his words.
“I’ve been bitten by you.” She thought about the day he bit her lower lip. “I liked it.” She approached the counter and set the muffins on the glass case that held the most expensive reels.
“Is that right?” He leaned forward until their mouths were a whisper apart. “You must not have liked it too much since you’ve avoided a repeat.” He was so close that when his tongue swept across his lips, it touched hers, too.
She flicked her tongue out to taste peppermint. He smelled like sex appeal and tasted like mint. “I’ve been busy.”
“How was Target?” Inside, she laughed because although he asked about Target, what he really wanted to know was about Dalton.
“Good. I picked up more orange essence.”
“You went to Target for that? I’m pretty sure they have it at the corner store. If not, Marge from the corner store could order it for you.”
She opened the box. The smell of bananas lifted from the warm muffins. “You said the chocolate chip muffins needed more orange.” She pulled one of them free and separated the top from the base. Breaking a small bite off, she lifted it to his mouth. “Why don’t you tell me what’s right or wrong with this one.” She brushed the bread against his lip, but when he opened his mouth, he didn’t only take in the treat, he pulled in her finger as well. If she weren’t already leaning on the counter, she would have puddled into a heap on the floor.
He pulled her finger from his mouth but didn’t let it go. When he swallowed the bite of muffin, he licked the crumbs from her wet finger. “Delicious.”
Katie didn’t know if he was talking about the muffin or about
her. “Your dad made them.”
Bowie chuckled. “Oh, you thought I was referring to the muffin. That tasted fine, but you taste better.” As quick as lightning, his hand wrapped around her neck and pulled her to him. He whispered against her lips, “Can I taste you, Duchess?” It wasn’t a question because his mouth covered hers before she could answer. They were doing a thorough taste test of each other when the bell above the door rang and a group of men walked in. Katie pulled away, and Bowie gave a low, throaty growl.
“Stick around,” Bowie said. “We’re not even close to finished.” He walked around the counter to the men who stood under the mounted, jumbo-sized fish. “Can I help you?”
Katie moved to the side and watched the three men who stood next to Bowie. No doubt they were trust fund babies. Probably the pretty boys from Denver Ben mentioned. Each one was at least a head shorter than him. They were dressed in polo shirts, khaki shorts and dock shoes. Bowie wore a worn, thin cotton T-shirt and a pair of jeans. On his feet were heavy black boots. Despite his dressed-down appearance, he was a hundred times sexier than the playboys.
Whereas the trio’s hair was precision cut, their brows waxed, and their skin spa nourished, Bowie had a rugged look about him. One that said he didn’t need an eighty-dollar haircut to make him a man.
One man pointed to the big trophy fish in the center of the wall. “That fish come out of the lake?”
Bowie nodded. “Caught it myself ten years ago. Took me two hours to pull it in.” The sound of pride lifted his voice.
“Give me what I need to catch something like that.”
Bowie turned to Katie and shook his head. Even she knew it wasn’t wise to enter a shop and give the guy behind the counter carte blanche when it came to picking out your purchases.
One Hundred Heartbeats Page 6
