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

by Seton, Cora

  “No. Not really. Not any more than brothers usually do. We would have scrapped anyway. At least with this we didn’t come to blows. Much.” A grin flashed across his face.

  “Would you show me?” For some reason she wanted to stretch the moment out. Probably to put off the time when they would need to discuss what had happened back at the bunkhouse. If she’d thought she was aware of Austin before, she was more so now. She’d run her hands up and down over his body. She’d kissed him, caressed him.

  Taken him inside of her.

  She shivered at that delicious memory, then squashed it, remembering the outcome. As soon as he had used her, he’d run away, although now that she thought about it… He hadn’t objected to the sex, just what she’d said afterward. I feel safe.

  That’s the last thing you are with me.

  What did he mean by that? Was he prone to violence?

  She gazed at him out from under her lashes. She had no doubt he could be. He had been in the Special Forces after all. But he didn’t strike her as the type of man to beat on a woman. She’d be long gone if she’d gotten any kind of vibe like that.

  So why wasn’t she safe with him?

  It bore thinking about, but not now.

  “The course?”

  She nodded. “I’d like to see you run it.”

  His expression remained shuttered. “Okay.” After a moment, he crouched down again at the starting line. “Call my start.”

  “On your mark, get set, go!”

  Ella wasn’t sure what she had expected. Austin took off like a shot and was across the monkey bars hand over hand before she could blink. He leaped down and sprinted for the climbing wall. When he jumped up, gripped the top and swung himself up and over it, her jaw dropped open.

  She had seen buff men before. She worked with men who did little else than train their bodies and pose in front of mirrors twenty-four/seven.

  This was different. This was a man so in tune with his muscles and tendons that he was as graceful as a wild animal. She could only stand and stare.

  Which meant she lost sight of him in moments.

  Frowning, she moved into the woods and caught sight of a path that ran down the center of the course. As she hurried along it, she spied Austin again, regaining his feet after he’d army-crawled under lines of barbed wire. Now he was off and running toward a rope swing across a small stream.

  Ella simply watched the rest of his progress, shaking her head at the beauty of his body in motion. She wished she could photograph him and capture the bunching and stretching of his muscles, the sheen of the sweat on his skin, the expression of pure concentration. Her fingers itched for a camera. She didn’t even have her phone with her.

  When Austin skidded to a stop beside her, a wake of dirt arcing up from under his heels, she could only applaud him. He seemed startled to see her there.

  “I need to time myself,” he said, panting. “I wonder if I can break my old record.” He moved off the path toward a pine that had branched out about five feet off the ground. He felt in the crotch of the tree and broke into a grin when he pulled out a notebook in a battered and ripped up plastic zip-lock baggie. “I just remembered this.” He opened the bag and took out the notebook and a pencil stub that still had a point. He came to show it to her.

  He seemed a little easier now than he’d been when she first found him here. Maybe the run had done him good. She leaned in close to see the little book.

  The lettering had faded into pale shadows in many places but much of it was still legible. Each brother had a section with many dates and times listed on the pages, detailing their progress over the years as they conquered the course and got better and better at it. Austin touched a line near the bottom of a page. “The day after Dad died. I was so mad at… everything. God. The universe.”

  Ella followed his finger. There were a number of times scrawled close together. He had taken his anger and sorrow out on the obstacle course, running it over and over again—hitting record after record.

  “It happened out of the blue. None of us dreamed he’d die like that.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Two weeks later we were in Florida. I didn’t come back again until a few days ago. Seeing Mason get married here,” his voice grew husky, “was a good thing. It was a beginning.”

  “Now you and your brothers will set things right.”

  “I guess.” He still looked troubled. “Ella—what I did back there—leaving you like that—it wasn’t right.”

  She lifted a hand to stop him. “No, I’m the one who screwed up. I broke the rule. We said we wouldn’t have sex, and I goaded you into it. Then I expressed a connection that isn’t there. A connection we’ve both agreed can’t be there. I get it. You’re right. It was a mistake we won’t repeat.”

  “I wanted it… as much as you did.” Something in Austin’s face told her he’d wanted it more. That he’d let her see as much went a long way toward smoothing her feathers. “But you’re right; no more sex. That was the last time.”

  She agreed with him, but disappointment stabbed through her. No man had ever made her feel the way she did with Austin—wanton, sensual—safe, for all he’d denied it. She’d thrown her inhibitions to the wind when they were together, and she wanted to do it again. But she couldn’t. “We’ll have to set some ground rules. No hugging, no touching, no holding hands, no cuddling by a fire. When we go to bed together at night, we turn over and go to sleep.”

  He nodded slowly. “Makes sense.”

  “No more talk about the past, either. You aren’t here to help me get over my failure as an actress.”

  “And you’re not here to help me get over my failure—” He cut off and turned away. As usual, he held himself so rigidly, she thought the vein pulsing in his temple might burst. “You’re not here to help me forget the past.”

  “We won’t even talk about the past. Our lives start right here and now.” Ella pushed away the sense that they had just veered off track entirely in the wrong direction. Something told her they were meant to be together—to help each other recover from the blows the past had given them. That wasn’t what Austin wanted, though. She wouldn’t ever be with him again. She shouldn’t be with anyone—certainly not a man who was even more emotionally unavailable than Anthony had been. She and Austin would be partners in this predicament. Maybe they’d become friends. That was it.

  Even if she longed for more.

  “Okay.” He hesitated a moment. “I guess that means it’s time to get to work.”

  Chapter 10

  ‡

  “What do we need to do first?” Ella scanned their surroundings and Austin thought he knew what she was thinking. There were no cattle on the ranch at present; no horses, either, but Mason and Regan had already made many of the big repairs that needed to be made.

  He thought fast. “First things first. Mason asked me to order supplies while he’s on his honeymoon to make sure we have everything on hand before we buy our cattle. I’ll get started on that right now. Why don’t you take a tape measure, pencils, paper and whatever else you need and start thinking about what you want to do to fix up the bunkhouse for us.” He stopped for a minute. “I’d better tell you right now, we’re on a budget. A tight one. We had to pay off a bunch of debts my uncle had incurred, and Mason did a lot of repair work when he moved back three months ago. So come up with something bare bones for now, and we’ll improve it when we can.” He scratched his head. “Might be a while, though.”

  She looked back toward the bunkhouse. With her blonde hair swinging down around her shoulders and her fancy dress somewhat worse for wear, she looked so much more accessible than she’d been when he first saw her at the airport. Her lithe body had felt so right under his touch when they’d come together earlier, and when she’d taken him in her mouth he thought he’d lose all control. After that, he’d barely been able to hold back.

  Hadn’t been able, if he was telling the truth. He’d taken her roughly, witho
ut thought for anything except satisfying his body and hers. He’d wanted to hear her voice her pleasure, and she had. The sound of her cries still rang in his ears. He wanted to take her again.

  She wasn’t pressed against him now, however. She was standing with her hands on her hips, her expression wry. “I keep telling you I have my own money.”

  To hell with that. “You’re not spending your money on fixing up the bunkhouse.”

  “Why not?”

  He wanted to say that it wasn’t right, that the ranch wasn’t her burden to shoulder, but he knew she’d take that wrong. She’d think he was saying she didn’t belong here.

  From the look on her face, he knew she’d followed the course of his thoughts. “The bunkhouse is going to be my home for the next twelve months,” she said. “If I spend your money, I have to keep my renovations within your specifications. If I spend my money, I can do what I like. That’s why I like spending my money. That’s why I worked so hard to earn it.”

  “By prancing around pretending to be someone else?”

  Damn it, why couldn’t he control his mouth? His words had stung her. She’d actually flinched.

  “Are you saying I didn’t work hard enough for my money?”

  He took a breath. “I’m pretty sure you didn’t get shot at while you were acting.” He didn’t know why he was pursuing this conversation. So she didn’t get shot at? So what? Did it make him superior that he had?

  “What’s the real issue here? That I have more stacked up than you do? You said you already spent a lot on the ranch, and you’re going to spend more. Sounds like you’ve done well for yourself over the years, so why are you angry at me?”

  He searched for an answer. Couldn’t find one. “I don’t know.”

  She blinked. Softened a little. “I guess this is to be expected, isn’t it? You’ve been overseas, getting… shot at. I’ve been letting my life and career fall to pieces. We’re complete strangers—”

  “Not quite complete.”

  She actually laughed.

  A throb of desire pulsed through him. Ella was beautiful when she laughed.

  Keeping his distance was going to be torture.

  “Anyway, it’ll take time to figure everything out. Meanwhile, I’ll renovate the bunkhouse my way. Okay?”

  He decided to be grateful she’d even pretended to ask for his approval, since obviously she was going to go ahead and pay for the renovation whether or not he liked the idea. “I probably can find some paper and pencils back at the house for you.”

  She glanced down at her dress. Made a face. “I think the house is a good place to start.”

  * * *

  Several hours later, Ella’s stomach rumbled and she realized it had to be close to dinner, although after that huge lunch she didn’t know how she could be hungry. She stood up ungracefully, her bottom almost numb from sitting so long on the bunkhouse floor. Dressed now in comfortable jeans, a violet shirt and a pair of runners, she felt more appropriately attired than she had in her fancy clothes. She had a pad of lined paper—all Austin could find—and she’d made several sketches with measurements of the way she wanted to redo the bunkroom. Once she’d worked that out, she’d fallen into a reverie about the different ways she could decorate the place.

  As she’d showered in the Hall, she’d wished that Austin would join her, but he hadn’t, and when she’d emerged he was all business. Disappointment had dogged her ever since, no matter how many times she told herself it was better this way.

  When she’d finally settled down to her task, at first her mind had gone to designer wallpaper and fabrics, but she’d discarded that idea almost immediately. She did have a solid amount of cash in her bank accounts and investments, but who knew when she would work again, and what kind of income she’d earn when she did. She had told herself she was through with acting, and she thought that was the truth, but she wasn’t sure what she’d do next.

  Once she’d stopped thinking about how the bunkhouse could look in a House & Garden spread, she allowed her thoughts to wander. She tried to conjure up images that appealed to her and soon she realized she wanted clean, simple lines, a country aesthetic, and the kind of built-in practicality one expected from a cottage.

  She added more bookshelves to her sketches of the living room, a couple of niches near the entry to the kitchen where vases of flowers could stand, and window seats with lots of storage under the two large windows. She played with the layout of the kitchen, adding more storage under the countertops and more cabinets above them. A built-in table and benches would allow for a better usage of the small room.

  When she was done, the cabin would look clean, bright and homey. There would be nothing stuck up about it. It would be restful and safe.

  She couldn’t wait.

  When her ideas had slowed, she’d doodled for a while, and then found herself writing a description of the cottage as she’d imagined it. From there her mind leapt to what her life could be, now that she was starting over. She scribbled down words that described what she wanted to feel: peace, happiness, belonging, community, usefulness.

  She moved on to the elements she thought could provide her those feelings: fresh air, movement, horses, children, Austin.

  Shoot. That wasn’t right. She hesitated, scratched a line through Austin and moved on determinedly. What careers could she try?

  Ranch hand?

  She snorted.

  Stable boy. No—girl.

  Riding teacher.

  Equine Therapist. It still seemed interesting, even if she was a bit fuzzy on what it entailed.

  Mother.

  She tapped her pen on the pad, ready to scratch that one out, too. She wanted to be a mother, but motherhood generally required a spouse, and her current spouse wasn’t of the long-term variety, unfortunately. Maybe when this was all over she’d check into adoption or artificial insemination.

  Ella blinked, realizing she’d written the word again—several times. Mother, mother, mother. Had she pushed aside that particular dream for so long that she no longer recognized how much she wanted it? At first, as an actress, she’d been too busy and too body-conscious to think about settling down and having kids. Then when she met Anthony she had to give up the notion altogether. He couldn’t stand children and made it clear from day one that she couldn’t have them and him at the same time. She’d chosen him. What a stupid mistake. She sat back and tried to picture what it might be like to have a child or two now.

  Or three.

  The images came easily—little faces shining up at her. Little arms reaching up to be held. She pictured hugging them, playing with them, wiping their faces, teaching them to ride.

  She liked that vision.

  She pictured Austin, too. Lifting a child up onto a horse. Teaching him or her how to hold the reins. Her body pulsed with unspoken needs and she forced herself to erase Austin from the image. He wouldn’t be her real husband, but some man would.

  She unfettered her mind of any practical restraints and began to write again, allowing herself to describe a perfect life. She pictured a ranch full of horses. A husband as sexy and interesting as Austin, but one who loved her utterly, the way she wanted to be loved. She described their children—and since she had abandoned restraint, there were five of them—and the laid-back country lifestyle they’d have. Picnics and swimming at the local watering hole, holidays filled with family and friends, cookouts and camping trips, trail rides and gardening, sending the kids off to school with little notes of encouragement in their lunchboxes, then partnering with her horses to help other children gain confidence and strength.

  Paragraph after paragraph had slipped from her pen to the page and time had slipped by just as quickly, but now that she saw the afternoon had passed, she got to her feet and headed for the bunkhouse door, the notepad under her arm. She’d have to stash the pages she’d used at the bottom of her overnight bag and hope Austin wasn’t the snooping kind. These were private thoughts and dreams, not meant
for anyone else to look at.

  She opened the back door into the Hall’s kitchen and called out Austin’s name.

  “Right here.”

  She started at the sound of his voice, then realized he was sitting at the kitchen table, his laptop open. She sniffed the air and her stomach rumbled again at the delicious smell. “What’s that?”

  “Frozen pizza. Vegetarian.” He drawled the word. “If you need something different I can run to town again, though.”

  She cracked open the oven. “This will be fine.” Afghan fusion food for lunch and a pizza for dinner? She’d gain five pounds overnight. Tomorrow she’d have to give Austin a shopping list for a refrigerator full of vegetables.

  She left her pad of paper, tape measure and pencils in the dining room for now, and followed him out to the back porch where he served the pizza as daylight waned. Afterward, they relaxed in their wicker chairs.

  “Tell me about your brothers.”

  Austin swallowed a bite. “Mason’s the bossy one, Zane’s the class clown, and Colt’s the crazy one you keep away from your daughters.”

  “Really? That’s it?” she said after a moment, when it was clear that was all Austin meant to offer.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “What to expect when they’re all home.” Might as well find out what she was in for.

  He thought about that a while. “We work together well. All of us have years of military experience—there’s nothing this ranch can throw at us we can’t handle. You won’t see much of Colt, though. He means to stay in the Air Force until they kick him out. Mason’s a good guy. He’s someone you can count on when times get tough. I’ve never seen him head over heels in love with a woman the way he is with Regan. That’s a marriage that will last. Zane likes to crack jokes, but he’s got a brilliant mind under all of that. Sometimes people underestimate him. He sets them up.” He hesitated.

  “What is it?”

  “We’re used to Dad being here to call the shots. Without him, I don’t know how we’ll get on. All of us have been in leadership positions for a while in the military.”