by Leah Kent
Their bodies slipped free from one another, and John rolled them over on the narrow bed so that he'd swept Hilary up in his arms. Both of them were still breathing hard.
"Now that I have you, I have something to stay here for," she replied. A life together. A family. For years Hilary had been on her own, lonely and unloved. Now she'd won the heart of a good man. A loyal man. There was no doubt in her mind about John's intentions. He would be faithful and good to her until the end.
They stayed there in each other's arms a little longer than they should have, tempting discovery. But when they did part, Hilary slipping back into the hospital to tend to her patients and John from it to wait for her at her apartment, both of them knew that this goodbye would not be their last. Despite distance and difficulty, they'd come back together, and nothing in the world would tear them apart again.
The Lion’s Share of Her Heart
Candice Parker
Island Cove Publishing © 2016
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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.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any similarities to any people living or dead, is purely coincidental and is not intended by this author.
The use of stock photos in the making of this book no way implies that the models condone, endorse or participate in the fictitious conduct that is within this book, by implication or expressly. The person(s) depicted are models and used for illustrative purposes only.
The book is for sale to only mature audiences. It may contain sexually explicit content with vulgar language which may be considered offensive to some readers. Please be responsible with where you store this book.
Chapter One
Quinn Rogers knew the name of every hunk in town, not that it was a hard feat to accomplish. With just a pinch over a thousand citizens, Fort Redpoint wasn't the busiest place, and with people in and out of the diner as they were, names stuck to faces real quick. Even after the biannual military rotation it didn't take too long for her to become familiar with the new inhabitants. They were easy to spot. Either they were serious and solemn with thousand mile stares, or they stirred up trouble and acted like teenagers. Quinn wasn't sure what type she liked better, but today she had a clear favorite. The man in uniform sitting by himself, staring listless out the window, had caught her eye from the second he'd walked through the door.
Since she'd been a little girl Quinn had known how to tell the military ranks apart. Fort Redpoint was a training facility for the reserves, and so while she saw a lot of fresh recruits, she also saw the more decorated men who trained them. Quinn could tell from the pins that decorated the left breast of her client’s dark jacket that he was experienced. The hard expression he wore spoke of difficult times, and she wondered if he'd been to war. Most men didn't speak about their combat history, and Quinn couldn't blame them. She figured that Mr. Forlorn would be no different.
"Welcome to Selkie's. My name's Quinn, and I'll be fixin' you up today. What can I get for you?"
The man turned his attention from the window to fix her with his eyes. They were an amber color that near made her heart stop. Burning with warmth and ringed around the outside with striking black, those eyes ate into her and rooted in her soul. All at once she became conscious of how the old fashioned blue and white plaid dress she wore as part of her uniform clung to her curves, and how the apron overtop it probably highlighted the curve of her belly. Quinn had never been a skinny girl, not from the time she started school, and definitely not now. Consumed by that self-conscious feeling she tugged at the front of her apron, eyes avoiding his. Years of teasing in school and the rude remarks of some of the newer military recruits had given her thick skin, but something about this man disarmed her entirely. Quinn did not welcome that feeling.
"How rare can you make your burgers, Quinn?" His voice was like black silk, smooth and luxurious and deep. She stared at the gold button that fastened his collar of his shirt near his wrist and tried to compose herself. Already her heart was beating faster, whether by fear or some other force she could not tell.
"We can do just 'bout anything short of bringing you a live cow." The warmth she usually invested in her words was absent, but even though she didn't look at his face she felt as though she could feel the man smile. Those amber eyes burned in her memory. Behind them his stern face with its sharp features, and his short russet hair. He had to have a good ten years on her at least. Quinn had just celebrated her twenty-first birthday a few months ago.
"Then it'll be five burgers fresh off the cow, plain."
Five? Quinn looked up to catch his eye and regretted it instantly. Those amber eyes bore into her, caught her gaze, and kept her pinned. It was as if she'd been a rabbit caught in a cage trap. Quinn felt the tremble begin, but did her best to mask it.
"Five?" she managed to ask. "I know our prices are the best in town," they were the only diner in town, so it wasn't a lie, "but we serve 'em thick. Even big men usually can only do two in one sittin'. Are you sure?"
"Yes, ma'am," he replied. There was an element in his voice she hadn't expected, like he was toying with her in a way she didn't understand. The amber eyes that ate into her soul had a narrow look to them that was fiercely intelligent and reminded her of a cat. Feline, she thought. Feline intelligence, cunning and superior. Not that she got the vibe that he felt he was above her, even as decorated as he was. "No fries. Two big glasses of water with ice."
The man knew what he wanted. Quinn bobbed her head in acknowledgment and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Waitresses didn't have to wear hairnets, but they did have to keep long hair up. She typically kept hers in a tight bun on the back of her head. Sometimes it made her feel thinner, seeing the contours of her jaw and the dip between her neck and her shoulder. But beneath his gaze, all she could think of right now was how massive her shoulders must have looked without hair tumbling before them to mask their width.
" 'Course," she mumbled back, beginning to step away from the table. "It'll be comin' right out."
"Aren't you going to write down the order?" he asked, eyes still upon her. Quinn shook her head.
"I got it all stored up in my brain," she replied. "If I go and mess it up on you, you can call me out on it, but I'm good at what I do, sir. Never had a single complaint yet."
Before Quinn looked away she caught the smile spread across his lips, and this time when her heart beat harder she knew exactly what it was from. He looked handsome when he smiled, like that one simple gesture took away all his pain and his superiority at once. The amber eyes that had gripped her so tight sparkled. All of the quiet, brooding types were usually curt and kept to themselves, but he hadn't hesitated to reach out to her. Even after their first meeting, Quinn knew there was no way she could forget his face.
"Thank you, Quinn," he said. She nodded, maybe a little too quickly, and turned.
"You're welcome. It'll be two shakes of a lamb's tail."
And then she'd darted back into the kitchen not to place the order, but to catch her breath. Even with a wall between them those amber eyes haunted her. Quinn couldn't tell if she never wanted to see them again, or if she never wanted to look away.
Chapter Two
Arkansas. Bennett Cromwell had never liked the South. The summer humidity disagreed with him, and there was something about Southern hospitality that he didn't care for. People who were too personable weren't to be trusted. There was pur
ity in solidarity. There was value in small social circles that kept to themselves. A population willing to treat you like a best friend moments after meeting seemed wrong and strange after a New York upbringing. But when the orders came in for his relocation, he knew there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Fort Redpoint was a speck of a town built around the military base with the same name. The base needed Bennett to re-socialize new recruits. It was a polite way of saying they needed him to degrade the punks brought in for basic training until they broke. No one broke men like Bennett Cromwell, and the higher ups knew it. It was why he'd never been promoted beyond sergeant. It was why they'd brought him back from the horrors of war and had torn him from the unit he'd been entrusted to. Even now the loss of his men stung. For as much as Bennett disliked maintaining large social circles, he had valued those boys like they'd been his own pride. Once more he was on his own.
A pride. The last time he'd been part of a pride he'd been a kid. Male lion shifters weren't encouraged to stay in the pride they were born to past adulthood, not unless they were sired by the King himself. Bennett was nothing more than a runt born after his lioness mother had sought out a human male for the goal of reproduction. As soon as he graduated high school he'd enrolled in the military and left behind the family he knew. The years had been lonely since then. Without a mate and without a group to lead, Bennett felt incomplete.
Directing basic training with the intention of crushing the spirits of young men didn't fill the void in the way directing a mature combat unit had. Two days into his new assignment and already Bennett was miserable. That and the rations here were terrible. A lion shifter needed meat. Real meat. There wasn't anything real served in the canteen, but some of the men had been talking about a local place named Selkie's. Not the best, was the rumor, but the only place in town. Bennett hadn't wasted any time in tracking it down. And there he sat, sticky red vinyl booth and all. It was like it had come from the 50s. He set his eyes out the window and watched the quiet street when her voice disturbed him from his thoughts.
A blue plaid dress. Hair swept back into an adorable messy bun, an errant lock of hair dangling before her ear. Pretty blue eyes and big lips. Dark hair. An atypical heat stirred inside of him, settling in his groin and refusing to let go. She had a southern accent, just like everyone else in the town did, but from her lips it didn't irk him. In fact, there was an endearing quality to it Bennett found himself liking. And her curves...
As his eyes traced down her body, he savored them. Round. Shapely. Beautiful. She wasn't like the average woman his eyes had learned to glaze over on the streets, and in her difference there was beauty. A whole lot of beauty. Bennett couldn't help but stare, and he could see her fidgeting and twisting beneath his gaze. The dominant animal inside had that effect on people; it was why he was so effective at breaking grown men.
They conversed. A blush rose across her cheeks that he found adorable. How young was she? College age, he imagined. Not much older than the young men he was shaping into soldiers. In the South they settled down young, and his eyes wandered to her left hand to look for a ring. There was none to be seen. A girl like her had to have a boyfriend, though. Someone her age. Maybe a recruit who'd gone for training and then been reassigned to another base or had gone overseas. The thought didn't stop Bennett from looking.
When she left and took his order to the kitchen, she took with him the sliver of happiness she'd blessed him with. Bennett shifted on the sticky bench and shook his head in an attempt to clear it. His heart beat just a little faster than normal. It was no secret to him that he was getting to the age where finding a mate became a priority, but a little Southern waitress wasn't the right kind of girl for him, no matter how cute she was.
And yet, even after the burgers arrived and she scurried off to tend to other tables, he couldn't get the thought of her off of his mind. The way her dress fit her. How he could see the curve of her generous breasts even beneath her apron. The wide eyed, startled stare, like she was a rabbit caught between his paws.
Bennett ate the bleeding patties and left the buns untouched. Whoever had said that Selkie's was disappointing was off their rocker; the meat was fresh, probably ground right from one of the local ranch's cows. Bennett hadn't had meat like it in ages. The beast inside rejoiced.
When she brought him the receipt he paid by credit card and then left her a generous cash tip tucked under the bill he'd left on the table. It wasn't the last time he'd be here, and he wanted to make sure he knew how much he'd appreciated the service. The meat was good, and that they had such an attractive waitress working the booths didn't hurt matters. Maybe he'd see her face again. Quinn. It fit her. Just like how she'd never forgotten an order, he was sure he wouldn't forget her name.
The distraction was over. He was due to get back to the base and start a new wave of training. Selkie's disappeared behind him as he headed back to the facility, but no matter how far he wandered, the waitress and the twang of her southern accent wandered with him.
Chapter Three
"Lucy just quit. Now that you're twenty-one I want you to replace her. You start working nights tomorrow, Quinn."
"I-- What?" Night shift? Quinn had been stacking plates on her arm when Laurence had stopped by to tell her. Her hand stopped halfway to the next plate and she turned her head to look at him. Laurence was middle aged, more nearing old age than youth. A receding hairline flirted with the silver that speckled his otherwise dark hair. There were hard lines in his face, and whenever Quinn looked at him she got a greasy kind of feel. Sure, they worked in a diner, but there was just something off about him that had always bothered her. But he was the owner, and he was a good and fair boss for all the years she'd been working there, so she let it slide. There were only so many employment options in a small town, and with tips Quinn did well for herself. Until right that moment she'd never considered jumping ship.
But the night shift?
"Laurence, I don't know..."
"It's your shift now, Quinn," Laurence replied firmly. "Either you show up to work it, or you don't show up at all. It's your choice."
Quinn bit down on her bottom lip to hold back the frown. Night shift meant she'd start in the late afternoon for the dinner rush and then stay through until cleanup was done at about two in the morning. They closed the doors after one.
"Right," she said at last. "I understand. I guess I'll see you tomorrow around five, then."
"You got it."
And as Laurence returned to his office, Quinn placed the last plate on her already loaded arm and entered the dining room.
There were advantages to working the night shift, of course. Dinner tips were always bigger. At night people ordered more alcohol, and tended to tip generously for it. After the dinner rush was over the diner seemed more mellow. For the first time in a long time she'd get to sleep in. But for all the benefits, something nagged at the back of Quinn's mind.
Bennett Cromwell came for lunch, the voice inside whispered, and you haven't been able to stop thinking about him.
The bottom of the credit transaction had his name written below the signature line, and she hadn't been able to forget it. Only a day had passed, but she'd looked up expecting to see him every time the bell above the front door rang. The tip he'd left had almost been as big as his bill, and she wasn't sure if it was a way to flirt with her or if it had been a mistake. It wasn't the money that had kept her interest, though. The dark, smooth voice and those sharp amber eyes were what stuck. Now that she was to work the night shift, Quinn wasn't sure if she would see him again.
The day ended and the next began, and Quinn showed up to work in time to help with the dinner rush. The diner was so busy that she didn't have a chance to think of Bennett or his absence, but when things slowed and the night dragged on, Quinn found herself with plenty of time to think about it.
Why was she so stuck on this guy? They'd exchanged a few words and then he'd been on his way. The base provided a constan
t source of strong and attractive men, so it wasn't as though she was starved for eye candy. So what was it?
Closing time arrived, and with it the last patron left the diner. Laurence had returned half an hour earlier to be on site, and he locked the door so she could go on with her cleanup. Quinn was the only waitress left, and the kitchen had closed an hour earlier. All the staff had gone home.
"Laurence, do you mind if I change my tips before you close up till?" Quinn was wiping down the last table, but there was still plenty to do. The floor had to be swept and mopped, the counters wiped down, and the back room straightened. Laurence came in at the end of the night to lock up and balance the register, but she was sure he did little else. All of the work was her responsibility.
"No," he replied. "Come over and do it. Let me watch."
It seemed like a reasonable request. Although she worked the register all day, waitresses weren't encouraged to change their tips. The less hands in the till the better. But if Laurence watched, there was no problem. Quinn tossed the rag onto the counter and joined him at the register. It already hung open, bills exposed. As she dug out the ones and change from the pouch on the front of her apron, Laurence put his hand on her lower back and stepped closer so that he looked down over her shoulder. The proximity left Quinn feeling uncomfortable.
