by Tessa Bailey
The Major’s Welcome Home
TESSA BAILEY
Copyright © 2018 Tessa Bailey
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
Excerpt from Getaway Girl
Praise for Getaway Girl
About Tessa Bailey
CHAPTER ONE
All hail the world’s shittiest welcoming committee.
Kenna Sutton sat at the stoplight, chipped red nails drumming on the steering wheel. Come on. Change. She could feel the car full of soldiers to her left trying to get her attention. On a typical day, she would rev the engine of her baby blue Dodge Challenger, invite them to a race they would inevitably lose. But she was late—painfully late—to pick up one of their brethren. A soldier returning this morning from a staggering six years overseas, whose family was apparently too busy to greet him. So how had this landed on her shoulders? Just another perk of being Lieutenant General Sutton’s daughter.
“Forget this,” she muttered, stamping her foot down on the accelerator and screeching through the red light. Only one mile to go until she reached the landing zone. This last-minute favor to her father might be a pain in the ass, but she refused to let him down. She’d already done enough letting down to last a lifetime, and it was rare that he entrusted her with anything of importance, so she wouldn’t screw it up. Too badly.
Her knowledge of the man she’d been tasked with transporting to the barracks began and ended with one fact: he was some kind of strategic mastermind. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She knew his name and rank. Major Beck Collier’s skill set must be something special, because he’d made himself indispensable to the Army. Six years’ worth of indispensable. And not one familiar face to latch on to when he landed.
Kenna swallowed the unexpected wave of sympathy and took a hard right, smiling as her tires squealed. The only benefit to waking up at the crack of dawn to pick up the stuffed-shirt geekster she envisioned was a chance to drive her baby. Listen to the engine purr like a contented leopard. With a wave of troops returning home, the winding roads of Fort Black Rock shouldn’t have been empty, which meant the visitors were already at the site. Dammit.
She slowed down just in time to prevent bottoming out as she pulled into the parking lot. The first available space she saw was at the very perimeter of the lot, but she was way too late to be choosey. Seconds after she threw the Challenger into park, she’d snatched up her makeshift sign that simply read Collier, and was jogging across the parking lot, her heavy Dirty Laundry combat boots pounding on the asphalt.
Running on a Sunday. Fucking obscene.
Car windows had been decorated with painted flags and the names of soldiers in big, bold letters. Welcome Home! In the distance, she could hear a marching band playing “God Bless America,” making her slow to a walk. The Fort Black Rock marching band was notoriously terrible, and the longer she put off being in their vicinity, the better.
A uniformed guard stopped her at the chain-link fence. “Need to see your identification, ma’am.”
He must be new. That wasn’t arrogance talking, although God knew she had a healthy dose of the stuff. She’d lived on base since birth and people—namely men—tended to know her. They didn’t call her a cocktease behind her back for blending in, did they? With a sigh, she tugged the wallet from her back pocket and tossed it to the guard, popping a stick of mint gum into her mouth as he looked it over. She knew the exact moment he recognized her last name because his eyebrows disappeared into his helmet. “I’m sorry, Miss Sutton. Go right in.”
“You’re a gem.” Kenna walked into the airfield, pushing her wallet back into the pocket of her jeans as she went. A group of photographers and journalists blocked her view at first, but as soon as she breached the human wall they’d created, she saw the soldiers disembarking from the plane. Men carrying Army-green duffel bags over their shoulders strode into the arms of crying women. Babies were kissed. Photos were taken. Proposals were made on bended knee. It was enough to warm the blackest of hearts. Even hers, apparently.
Feeling the odd spark in her chest, Kenna looked away quickly, wincing as the marching band struck up their awkward rendition of “Wild Blue Yonder.” Wasn’t that song reserved for the Air Force? Holding the homemade sign above her suddenly aching head, she made her way to the greeting area, scoping the sea of soldiers for an older gentleman by himself. Strategic masterminds probably wore thick-rimmed glasses, had pasty skin…maybe a slight paunch from too many hours in front of a computer, right? The second she dropped him off at the barracks, he’d probably dive on the first available video game controller. Didn’t matter to her. She’d already be back in bed, finishing her Sunday the way she’d originally intended. Counting sheep.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” a gravelly voice said behind her. “Are you my ride?”
Before she turned around to face the second guy to ma’am her in less than five minutes, intuition started to creep in. Little prickles danced on the back of her neck as she pivoted. And locked eyes on the broadest chest she’d ever seen. It was easily as wide as two of her, and then some. The patch on his right pec read Collier. No way. She tilted her head back…and back…straight up into twin blue beacons of yes, please. His eyes outshone the sky outlining his shaved dark-blond head. Put it to shame.
What are you now, a poet? Get your jaw off the floor.
Kenna hated surprises unless she was the one delivering them. She’d been expecting someone who might have a poster of Neil deGrasse Tyson on his wall. Instead, she’d gotten an NFL quarterback. He might have been a linebacker, if it weren’t for his distinct All-American, good-ol’-boy, Kenny Chesney-listening, Levi’s-wearing, mama’s-home-cooking-eating vibe. It was louder than the goddamn marching band.
“Depends.” She let her gaze drop to his tree-trunk-sized thighs under the pretense of adjusting her sunglasses. “Are you Major Beck Collier?”
His grin was a mile wide. “At your service, ma’am.”
Good god. What was that accent? Georgia? Definitely the south. “Look, dude. Anytime you want to stop ma’am-ing me would be swell.”
Smile slipping, he nodded as if she’d imparted life-saving instructions. “Is there something I can call you instead?”
Hold the phone. This guy didn’t even know her name. Which meant…he didn’t know she was Lieutenant General Sutton’s daughter? When walking around base, she might as well wear a flashing neon sign that said looky no touchy. And oh, they looked. She made sure of it. But on the rare occasion a man actually approached, he was clued in pronto about whose loins she’d sprung forth from. Kenna had no intention of taking advantage of True Blue, being that he was the furthest thing from her type as one could get. But at least she wouldn’t be treated like Kenna, Spawn of Sutton, throughout the drive.
“I’m Kenna. Welcome back and whatnot.” Suddenly at a loss without her name to precede her, she gestured to the canvas bag on the ground. “Do you need help with that?”
H
is expression was one of horror. “No, ma’am—Kenna. I can manage.” He shifted on his size-nine-hundred feet. “Do you need help with anything?”
She looked around. “Like what? Walking?”
Unbelievable. This handsome, hulking man actually turned a little red. “Just in general, I guess.” He gave a little head shake. “You’ll have to pardon me. I haven’t been around a woman for a while. You caught me a little off guard, is all. I didn’t expect—”
“Expect what?”
He appeared to be struggling with the effort to keep his gaze above her neck. Which was a huge feat, considering she wore a leather bustier and skintight, low-rise jeans that left several inches of her belly exposed. Honestly, her boobs were looking at him. Anyone with a penis should have returned the favor by now and usually did. Without fail. His Adam’s apple slid up and down. “Can we start over?”
“Nope. What didn’t you expect?”
Beck’s blue eyes fell to hers, then looked away again. Anywhere but at her. “I guess I…” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t expect my ride to be so beautiful she makes my stomach hurt. I didn’t expect that.” He ducked his head and breezed past her, toward the parking lot, while Kenna stood frozen to the pavement.
Five minutes back on US soil and you’ve already made a jackass out of yourself.
Beck hefted his bag higher on his shoulder, refusing to acknowledge the pain that ripped through his right side. Or maybe he should acknowledge it. Focus in on the wound’s discomfort, let it spread down to his toes. It might take his mind off the girl he could hear jogging to catch up with him. Should she really be jogging in that shirt? Could one even call it a shirt?
Mind your manners. Beck slowed down until they were walking side by side, but kept his gaze resolutely on the parking lot ahead. Didn’t it figure the good Lord would test him the moment he landed? He’d been warned the transition back to civilian life wouldn’t be easy. Learning how to grocery shop, buying sneakers, eating at Denny’s. He could—would—handle those things. But five tempting feet of female curves and attitude? No, sir. Beck wasn’t quite ready for that.
For the first time, he regretted not asking his twin sister, Huntley—a nurse on base—to pick him up. Or his best friend, Cullen, who worked on base training soldiers in explosives and demolition. Both of them would have dropped everything at a moment’s notice. He’d just needed some time. Time to wrap his mind around being home for the first time in six years. Time to prepare himself for the news he would impart. Time to accept that everything had changed.
Kenna’s smoky incense scent might as well have been a wrench twisting in his gut. He didn’t have firsthand knowledge of what those ancient gypsy women who sold magic smelled like, but he reckoned it was similar to Kenna. The keyword being similar, because he somehow knew her scent couldn’t be replicated on another woman.
Listen to yourself. What do you know about women?
For the last year, he’d been locked inside a command center full of high-ranking officers, field scientists, journalists. Before that? Well, he’d been waiting. Would still be waiting, if there was anything left to wait for back home in Georgia.
They reached the parking lot and Beck immediately moved behind Kenna, guiding her without touching through the moving sea of cars. From this position, he could pull her back if a vehicle moved too fast. Touching would be required for that, though, so he prayed it wasn’t necessary. Or was he praying for the exact opposite? Don’t look at her backside.
She threw a look at him over her shoulder, green eyes glowing just above the rim of her sunglasses. “You in a rush to be somewhere, Major?”
Home. So I can get rid of this pain in my stomach. This wasn’t his home, though. It was only temporary.
“No rush.” He followed her lead down the last row of cars, watching as she sent the sign bearing his name fluttering into a metal garbage can. “I figure you have somewhere you’d rather be than chauffeuring me around base.”
Kenna stopped at the trunk of a blue Challenger—a beaut, to be sure—and turned to face him. “I’m a firm believer that Sundays should be spent in bed. Don’t you agree?”
Beck lassoed the groan trying to break free from his throat, yanking it back. The thought of her tossing around in tangled sheets…
Enough. This girl was doing him a kindness, and his mind could only muster inappropriate thoughts. Someone who looked, moved and spoke like her was probably on the receiving end of such thoughts on a regular basis. He wouldn’t repeat the pattern, although intuition told Beck she wanted him to. “I tend to agree, Kenna.” He nodded once. “You should always take the opportunity to catch up on sleep. Sleep is nature’s reset button.”
A laugh bubbled from her lips. “You aren’t going to fit in here, True Blue.”
The husky endearment made the wrench below his belt tighten. “It’s a good thing I don’t intend to be here long then.”
For some reason, his response seemed to remind her of something. She stepped toward the car, digging in her front pocket to pull out a jingling set of car keys. The action tugged the denim low—way too low—giving him a glimpse at the barbed wire tattoo circling her hips and the edge of sheer black panties. Beck’s mouth went dry as the desert he’d returned from. And just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, she popped the trunk and lifted it. Her stomach muscles stretched, the shirt—was it even a shirt?—gliding up her taut stomach and tightening over her high breasts.
Beck swung the bag off his shoulder and held it over his lap before she could witness his reaction to her body. His hard-on was becoming a serious problem. It wouldn’t go away as long as Kenna was in the vicinity, and they still had the car ride to get through.
“Throw your bag in the trunk.”
“No, thanks. I think I’ll hang on to it.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “The passenger side of my car will barely fit you, let alone all your earthly possessions.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll try and make do.”
With a shrug, she slammed the trunk and headed for the driver’s side door. Letting loose a relieved breath, he made his way to the opposite side. Keeping the bag in place with one arm, he opened the passenger door and immediately admitted she’d been right. Barely enough room for him and his bag. Not to mention the vicious wood he was sporting. Seeing no other choice, he dropped down into the seat, wedging the canvas bag between his thighs, the leather upholstery groaning beneath him as he did so.
He looked over at Kenna to find her battling a smile. “Seatbelt.”
“Heck.”
With considerable effort, he managed to wrap the strap around himself and the bag as Kenna watched with open amusement from the driver’s side. Once the belt clicked into place, she threw her right arm over his seat and started to back out of the parking spot. Beck caught a glimpse of her straining breasts and decided it best to stare up at the ceiling, but not before his erection grew swollen enough to steal oxygen from his lungs.
They exited the parking lot and turned onto the road. “So,” she said. “What did you miss most while you were gone, Major?”
Beck answered honestly, even though concentration was difficult. “My sister; she’s a nurse here on base. My dog, Moses. Buttered popcorn from the movie theater. My mother down in Georgia. Not in that exact order, mind you. My mother rates higher than popcorn.”
“I hope so.” She adjusted the air conditioner, not that he could feel it as his bag blocked the vent. Too bad, he could use cooling down. “You’re headed back to Georgia?”
“Yes, ma’am. Kenna,” he corrected himself. “Peach farming.”
“Huh-what?”
He smiled at her confused expression, relieved she’d given him something to think about besides his wayward anatomy. “My family has been in the peach farming business for six generations. I’ll be taking over operations from my grandfather. Soon as I make my way down south.”
“Peaches,” she murmured. “Peaches, a dog, mama and popcorn. If
you tell me you don’t have a girl waiting for you back in Georgia, Major, I won’t believe you.”
His neck grew hot, an uncomfortable pit yawning wide in his stomach. “There’s no girl.” That wasn’t entirely true. There had been a girl at one time, but there wasn’t any longer. And while he didn’t feel the same regret he once had over it—heck, remembering her face got harder over time—discussing it in front of Kenna would only lead to pity. Embarrassment. Two things he didn’t want to feel from anyone, let alone this gorgeous, confident girl who’d probably never faced a single challenge in the romance department.
Beck could see her need to press battling with her nonchalance. “You sure about that?”
He started to say yes, he was sure, but he stopped himself. Since that day a year ago when he’d received the Dear John letter from back home, he’d unburdened himself to no one. Today marked a fresh start, away from the pressures he’d faced overseas and the tragedy he’d been living with on his conscience. Life after his service. While he might have mentally moved on in most aspects, the failure still sat heavily on his shoulders and he wanted to be free of it. Once Kenna dropped him off, she’d probably speed away, his name flying out the window of her muscle car along with his sob story. He eyed her. What was the worst that could happen? She pretended to be sympathetic and race back to her boyfriend?
Sweet Jesus, he didn’t like the idea of her crawling back into those sheets with a boyfriend.
The unexpected flare of jealousy propelled the truth out of him. “Mary was my high school girlfriend. We’d been going together since freshman year, followed each other to the University of North Georgia. Everything was fine, until I took the ASVAB test.” He still recalled being summoned out of class to discuss his unusually high results on the military aptitude test with a recruiter. “After that, everything happened so fast. I was shipped out before the ink dried.”
“I know the test.” She measured him with a look. “That explains how you’ve been promoted to major so young.”
