A Soldier's Promise

by Cynthia Thomason

  She smiled. “Figures. Then what do you owe me for?”

  “Back in the alley, you gave me something, and I’ve been thinking about returning the favor.”

  She clutched the lapels of her robe. “You were furious at me in the alley.”

  “I know, but then you gave me that kiss.”

  “I was trying to make a point.”

  “I didn’t know what to make of that kiss, Brenna. I’m not really looking for a relationship.”

  For a moment she could only stare back at him. Then she said, “Mike, it was a kiss, not a marriage proposal.”

  “Well, sure, I understand, but I know you don’t go around kissing guys all the time, and...”

  “Actually, you don’t know that,” she said. “Kissing you didn’t mean I was ready to attach you to a ball and chain. I didn’t mean to terrify you.”

  “It wasn’t terrifying.”

  She sighed. She had no idea where he was going with this conversation. “Gee, that’s good to hear.”

  “I said I owed you, remember?”

  She nodded.

  He wrapped both hands around her upper arms and held her tight. “I figure I should give back what you gave me.”

  She started to speak, but her words were muffled by the press of his lips. Soft yet hungry. And extremely satisfying.

  He pulled back. “There, we’re even.”

  She let out the breath she’d been holding. “And now I’m a little terrified.”

  He smiled. “I’ve got to go. There’s a curfew...”

  “Right.”

  He stood and walked briskly to his truck. Brenna remained on her porch swing, her hands clutching her robe, her face warming to the roots of her hair. Here she was, in the baggy old robe she’d had for years, her hair bushy in humidity-frizzed waves, and she’d never felt more beautiful in her life. Or more confused. But at least she now knew what a kiss initiated by Mike Langston felt like.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “WHAT? YOU KISSED HIM?”

  Brenna put a finger to her lips. It was Saturday morning. She and Diana were at the crowded Mount Union Diner having coffee. “Lower your voice,” she said. “Do you want the whole town to hear you?”

  Diana complied and spoke in a loud whisper. “I just knew something had been going on in that alley. Bobby thought so, too.”

  “It shouldn’t have happened,” Brenna said. “But you know how I am—spontaneous and not always on my best behavior. Mike had been yelling at me—again!”

  “And of course you weren’t yelling back.”

  “Well... Anyway, I just wanted to loosen him up, make him see that life doesn’t have to be so serious all the time. A kiss seemed like the best way to do that.”

  Diana grinned. “I see. And did he find your tactic the least bit amusing?”

  “I’m not sure. With Mike, how can you tell? But after he allowed his daughter to ride home with Charlie, he stopped by my house.”

  Diana allowed the waitress to refill her cup before focusing on Brenna again. “Now this is getting really interesting. Did you talk about what happened in the alley?”

  “No.” That was sort of a lie, but Brenna didn’t want to admit that Mike returned the kiss or that she liked it. “He was all serious again, talking about his problems with Carrie, asking me to take her shopping. He only stayed a few minutes.”

  “He’s really got it for you, Bren.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. The only thing he’s got for me is contempt and enough of a begrudging admiration that he can ask a favor of me. He’s smart enough to know that he’s got some weaknesses in the dad department.”

  Diana shook her head in deep concentration. “You’re wrong. If a guy like Mike—the strong, silent type—makes it a point to come over to your house at eleven at night, that’s not contempt.”

  “He’s just desperate for someone to help him with Carrie—so desperate he would come to me.” The waitress put their check on the table. Brenna knew they should free up the space so another group could sit, but she hadn’t yet made her point. “This situation is becoming too involved for me, Diana. I can’t forget that I’m not the mothering type....”

  “So you’ve said, but maybe you are the girlfriend type.”

  “No. I won’t let a relationship with Mike develop. I can’t. There’s no future in it for either of us. You know I’m dating Alex. And now, thanks to you, Mike will be working at the center. And Bobby’s roped him into helping the football team. I’ll see him nearly every day, which will only make things more uncomfortable.”

  Diana tapped her wristwatch. “And why exactly are you telling me this when you know I have to meet Bobby at the bank in ten minutes? What can I do about it?”

  Brenna did have a suggestion she’d thought about much of the previous night. “I’d like you to convince Mike not to work at the center, tell him you made a mistake and that I have enough volunteers. I can’t work with him, Diana. We don’t get along.” And I’m afraid I could really like him and I don’t want to.

  “Sounds like you were getting along just fine Friday night.”

  Brenna couldn’t argue that point. People who don’t get along generally don’t end the night with a dynamite kiss. She tried a different approach. “We’re so different,” she said. “I can’t imagine him taking directions from me.”

  “Didn’t you just remind me last night that you’re in charge of this project?”

  “Yes. So?”

  Diana fished in her purse for her wallet and placed some bills over the check. Then she smiled and said, “Then act like the woman in charge, Bren, and handle your own personnel problems.” She walked to the door, but stopped and said, “Don’t forget the barbecue tomorrow. You were at the game, which makes you part of the celebration. So try to celebrate, okay?”

  * * *

  MIKE COULDN’T REMEMBER when he’d had a worse weekend, at least since coming home from Afghanistan to say goodbye to his wife. The downward slide had begun Friday night when he’d made a darn fool of himself in front of Brenna Sullivan. He’d ended up looking like a middle school kid who didn’t know the first thing about women when he’d used that line about returning the kiss.

  And that word she’d used. Terrified. He hadn’t been able to put it out of his mind. It wasn’t a word that any well-trained army ranger liked to hear in any situation, especially one involving something as simple as a kiss.

  Granted, Mike did have a few shortcomings when it came to women, but he wasn’t a complete dunce. He’d married young, but in high school he’d enjoyed modest popularity. In the army, women recruits came on to him occasionally, but he’d told them he was married—seriously married—and the advances stopped. Ultimately, Mike hadn’t been with any woman other than his wife in fifteen years, so for him, that kiss from Brenna had not been simple.

  After a nearly sleepless night, he’d been called into work on Saturday. And when he’d come home in the afternoon, Carrie had fluctuated between euphoria about “meeting a boy” and despair that she was stuck in “this awful cabin another Saturday night.”

  Though dog-tired, he’d suggested going to Augusta to a movie. She’d turned down his offer, saying he’d never agree to see a flick she would pick. Even when he said he would, she declined, went in her bedroom and spent the night on the computer. He heard her giggle a few times so he assumed she’d found someone to chat with who was far more interesting than her father. Possibly Charlie Montgomery.

  Now it was Sunday morning, 9:00 a.m. and his fantasy of sleeping late had been destroyed by the rockin’ sound of Justin or Robin or some other teen heartthrob playing full volume through the four small rooms of the cabin. Mike stumbled into the kitchen to find Carrie flipping pancakes in one of his grandmother’s old cast-iron skillets.

  “Hi
, Dad. Sleep well? I made breakfast. I thought maybe I could get a dog. Would that be okay?”

  His brain buzzed with the effort of trying to block out drums and guitars so he could keep up with her disjointed chatter. He plopped down in a chair and said, “Not especially. I can see that. We’ll talk about it...after coffee.”

  She set a mug on the counter in front of the steaming coffeepot. “I made that, too, but I’ve never made coffee before so it might not be any good.”

  He dropped two loaded teaspoons of sugar in the nearly black liquid she set before him and took a sip. Way too strong. He’d have to put coffee on the shopping list. But the caffeine jolt opened his eyes. “It’s fine. Can you turn down the music a little?”

  “Oh, sure.” She scurried into the living room and cut the volume on her iPod. A smile settled on Mike’s face. He actually heard a bird chirp in his backyard.

  She came back to the kitchen and resumed flipping pancakes. He noticed she was wearing an outfit she must have brought from California. A too-short skirt with glittery stuff on the back pockets and a tank top with a big cloth flower of some kind over her right... He averted his gaze after deciding he wouldn’t allow her to wear that getup to school.

  She put a plate of pancakes in front of him. Normally Mike couldn’t even think of food until he’d been awake an hour. He usually fired up with coffee at home and ordered a biscuit or a doughnut from the guy who stopped at the garage every morning in a mobile truck café. But his daughter was in a good mood, and he wasn’t about to spoil it, so he poured on the syrup and dug in.

  Carrie fixed a plate for herself and sat opposite him at the table. “It’s a nice day, isn’t it?” she said.

  He glanced out the window. “Yeah, it’s nice.”

  “Good day to go outside and do something.”

  This was getting weird. Did she want to go somewhere outside with him? Dare he hope? “I suppose.”

  She drummed her fingers on the tabletop. “I hope something comes up,” she said. “I finished all my homework last night.”

  He swallowed and gave her his full attention. “Are you waiting for me to suggest something?”

  “Oh, no. You rest today, Dad. You had to work yesterday. You need a day off.”

  “Well, if I’m going to be resting, what’s going to come up?”

  She showed him a brilliant smile. “Who knows? I just believe in possibilities. You can never tell, right?”

  Oh, he could tell. He could tell he was being set up.

  A half hour later the pancakes were gone and the kitchen was clean. Carrie sat on the front porch rocking idly in one of his grandmother’s old wood slat chairs. The raucous sounds of an electric guitar alerted Mike that her custom ringtone had kicked in on her cell phone. She answered on the first chords. Mike went to the front door and listened.

  “Oh, hi.” Her voice positively floated. “Yes, I think it’s going to be okay.”

  A pause. Then, “No, I haven’t asked him yet, but hold on. I will now.”

  Mike hurried away from the door and picked up a magazine.

  Carrie came in the house, the phone clutched in her hand. “Dad, this is Charlie Montgomery.”

  He nodded.

  “He...ah, asked me to go somewhere with his family today.”

  “Where?”

  “To this place just outside of town called the Riverview Tavern.”

  Mike shook his head. He’d heard of it from the guys at the garage. “It’s a bar.”

  “It’s a restaurant.”

  “It’s mostly a bar, and it’s probably a good seven, eight miles from here.”

  She frowned. “So what? I said we were going with his family. You know them.”

  Aware that the phone connection to Charlie was probably still live, Mike kept his cool. “Tell Charlie you’ll call him back. We’ll discuss this.”

  “Why can’t you tell me now? Why do you have to make everything such a big production?”

  “Carrie...”

  She put the phone up to her ear. “I guess I have to call you back.” She waited. “What? Oh, okay.”

  Holding the phone toward Mike, she said, “It’s for you.”

  Ambush phase. Mike wasn’t about to be caught unprepared. “I don’t need to talk to Charlie. Tell him you’ll call...”

  “It’s his dad on the line.”

  “Oh.” Mike took the phone. “Bobby?”

  “Hey, Mike. I was going to call you this morning. Looks like the kids beat me to it.”

  Didn’t Bobby Montgomery know that dads should stick together? Next to soldiers, cops and firefighters standing by one another, it ought to be the most important male bond. “What about?”

  “I should have mentioned this Friday night when we were all together. A friend of my family’s, a native of Mount Union, opened a restaurant called the Riverview.”

  “I’ve never been there,” Mike said.

  “It’s a nice place,” Bobby continued. “Anyway, this guy is having a barbecue today for all the players and their friends and family. Quite a crowd. This party has sort of become a tradition after the first game of the season. Since you might be a Raven come Monday, I wanted to invite you and Carrie, of course. Be a good opportunity for you to meet a lot of people.”

  And a perfect opportunity for Carrie, as well. She could mingle to her heart’s content while he maintained a close watch. “I appreciate that,” he said. “Carrie and I will be glad to come. What time?”

  “The official start is one o’clock, but here’s the thing, Mike. Charlie, Diana and I are going early to help get things ready. Charlie was kind of hoping that Carrie could ride along with us.” He paused. When Mike didn’t say anything he added, “I’ll be doing the driving and Diana and I will watch out for the kids. You don’t have to worry.”

  Mike supposed he was right. And he couldn’t come up with a logical excuse to deny his daughter a ride to the party. “Okay, then,” he told Bobby. “You want me to drop Carrie off at your place?” In the background Carrie squealed with triumph.

  “We’ll pick her up. About a half hour from now if that’s okay.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll see you all there later.”

  He disconnected Carrie’s phone and handed it to her. “Keep this with you at all times.”

  “I will.” She grinned at him. “And, Dad, thanks. You don’t have to hurry now, see? You can take your time, even go back to bed awhile if you want.”

  “I’m fully rested.” He gave her another once-over. “Are you wearing that outfit?” When he saw the pout start to form, he quickly amended, “Never mind. Go on and do whatever you have to do to get ready. They’ll be here soon.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” She waited a few seconds before closing the gap between them and giving him a quick hug. The only other time he remembered Carrie hugging him was after the funeral. This was definitely better.

  Mike fiddled around for a couple of hours trimming some bushes, reading, cleaning up. Then he went to take a shower, wondering just who would be at this shindig today.

  At one-thirty, he pulled into the parking lot at the Riverview. The building looked much like he’d thought it would—lots of neon signs, though not lit in the daytime, a tin roof and weathered wood siding. A porch extended across the front and around the side. The lot was full of pickups, SUVs and small, older cars probably belonging to teens.

  He found a spot near the back of the parking lot, where the restaurant bordered the river. When he got out of his truck, he was assailed by the scent of rich, sweet and tangy barbecue sauce. A huge iron smoker near the building’s back deck hissed steam from under the cover and through slits on top. Mike’s mouth watered. Nothing beat authentic barbecue.

  To the beat of fiddle and guitar strings of a live country band, he entered the rest
aurant. He didn’t figure he’d know anyone other than his daughter and the Montgomerys, but that was okay. He was here for one reason—to keep his eye on Carrie. He spotted her right away in the main dining area. She was standing near the platform where the band played. Charlie was next to her, his hands in his pockets. Other than the occasional smile she gave him, he wouldn’t have assumed they’d come together and would probably leave the same way.

  Satisfied that his daughter was okay for now, Mike escaped the noise and headed into the bar, where he could adapt to the environment with a beer in his hand. And then he saw Brenna.

  Surprised, he stopped, stared at her and reminded himself that she didn’t even like football. But of course she’d be here anyway. He figured she liked parties. She looked much more appropriate to the atmosphere than he did in his beige cargo shorts, gray-and-blue U.S. Army T-shirt and sandals. Brenna had on a denim skirt that flared just above her knees, tan cowboy boots with fancy blue stitching and a scoop-neck short-sleeved white blouse that looked as though it came from the vineyards of Tuscany—not that he’d ever been there.

  Her curly red hair was secured in a high ponytail with a blue ribbon. She could have been fresh off a bluebonnet Texas meadow. And just as inviting to a man who hadn’t seen a meadow in a long time.

  He stood out of sight and wondered what he should do. Retrace his steps and escape to his truck for a couple of hours? Or put the awkwardness of Friday night behind them and go up and talk to her? Of course he should. He’d gone on numerous night raids in the Middle East. Mortar shells had whizzed by his head. Bombs had exploded on dusty roads ahead of his vehicle. He was a ranger, one of the army’s elite. So he straightened his spine and walked up to her. She was alone, leaning on the bar and speaking to the middle-aged bartender.

  She seemed to sense his approach and turned around just as he reached the bar. He allowed himself to believe that her expression showed pleasure. “Well, look who’s here,” she said. “I’ve heard your name a lot today.”

  “Really? What’d I do now?”

  She smiled. “The town is all abuzz about a former all-state defensive something-or-other helping Bobby with the team.”