ABANDONED: Elkridge Series, Book 3, A novel Read online

All he wanted to do was find a hole somewhere and disappear, but first he would honor his friend.

  He was bag-ass tired, and if he didn’t find some food and a soft, horizontal place to lie down, he just might fall down. It had taken sixty-two hours to get in-country, followed by two straight days of release medical exams and paperwork, followed by a military funeral.

  Hazel-green eyes studied him like he might study the horizon, watching and assessing any movement or sound. Her expression changed from curious to serious, then closed off completely. The closed-for-business signal meant he’d best be hitting the road while he still had some daylight left. Checking his watch and considering the longitude, he calculated he had another three, maybe four hours before the sun went down.

  “I’d better go.” He stood and took a step back. “You might want to check that bandage in a bit. I’d also suggest taking a pain reliever if you have something. And consider getting stitches. You were bleeding pretty good.”

  “No stitches.”

  There was the stubbornness he liked.

  She tried to stand, but her legs were still wobbly, and his arm went around her waist automatically. When her good hand touched his chest, the heat from her fingers penetrated his cotton shirt. The heat felt several degrees past just-being-friendly.

  He didn’t move. He didn’t react. But he wanted to. He really, really wanted to.

  The woman bracing herself on his chest was a long way from the ones who frequented off-base bars, he reminded himself. Those women were after one thing—a good time and a hard ride. And this wasn’t that kind of woman. She was the long-term kind. And he couldn’t do long-term.

  Leaving would be a good idea.

  Instead, there he stood, breathing in her soft, feminine scent, feeling every finger press into his chest, and doing nothing to correct the situation.

  “I, um…” She licked those sensual lips, but couldn’t quite get out the rest of her sentence.

  “Yep, got it.” He took a step around the table toward the door, creating some distance. “Before I head out, I need to fill my truck with gas. Could you point me in the direction of the nearest station?” he asked, to help change the awkward back into a just-passing-through kind of thing.

  She brushed past him and opened the door to point down the street. “Take a left out of the parking lot, and just before you get to the first light, you’ll see Hank’s on your right.”

  He sure liked the way her face contained a riddle he’d like to solve. She was scared, in control, and about to lose it, all at the same time. He liked the intrigue, and the way her nicely built frame measured to about chin height. She gave him something to think about other than his aching back, hip, and knees from too many parachute jumps and long patrols. Or how losing Bobby had carved out a big, empty hole in his chest.

  “Thanks for your time, ma’am.”

  Before he was halfway through the door, she whispered, “Military. Should have known.”

  She said the word ‘military’ like he’d just eaten the last piece of pie. He turned back. “Is there a problem?”

  He was temporarily off duty, and shouldn’t have allowed her statement to affect him the way it did. But after allowing the government to use his body as a target, day in and day out, for months on end, he couldn’t quite let the statement go. He shouldn’t care, but he did. Cared too much, in fact.

  She looked through the store window at what he called ‘the grumpy old man,’ Bobby’s old gunmetal gray Ford pickup—with the Marine insignia displayed proudly in the window.

  “Yours?” she asked with judgment in her tone, a tone he didn’t like.

  “Borrowed. But the insignia still applies.”

  She stared at him for a long, silent moment. He’d experienced all sorts of ridicule from foreigners. The last thing he expected was to be hit with it from a U.S. citizen.

  Just walk away, Bobby’s voice urged in his head.

  Bobby had always been his better. Not a better soldier, but a better person. He could laugh more easily, find the positive in situations, or just get along. On the other hand, Chase wasn’t a people person. He had tried to change, to be more like Bobby, but he never could get it quite right. He turned, zipped his jacket, and retrieved the keys from his pocket. Before he could unlock the door, rapid footsteps made him turn.

  His in-zone awareness hadn’t had time to mellow, and his brain was still on high alert. Obviously so was his body because every muscle dropped into a defensive posture. Good thing she stopped a foot short. He took a deep breath and stepped back into an at-ease stance.

  Gone was the conspicuous bitterness narrowing her eyes moments earlier.

  “My father’s a Marine. He always told me he could spot a Marine a mile away. I just didn’t put the pieces together until you called me ma’am. My comment wasn’t meant as an insult. I should thank you.”

  “For?” He hated the worn-out ‘thank you for your service’ phrase. It felt fake, too easy. He braced for the same insincere statement to tumble out of her all-too-cute mouth.

  “For making sacrifices.” Her unshielded gaze turned honest. “For living with visions of things no person should have to witness. For enabling me to walk down the street and feel safe.”

  Surprise tightened his gut and then twisted. The sentiment somehow bridged the gap between them.

  “You’re welcome. And thank your dad for his sacrifices.”

  She opened her mouth to say more, but he couldn’t handle any more, so he opened the truck door, got in, and started the engine.

  The only thing he could do was choke back the pain, give her a nod of acknowledgment, and be on his way because her words had sunk in deep.

  Things no person should have to see.

  Like seeing your best friend in chunks.

  Chapter Two

  Ashley watched the soldier’s truck rumble down the street. A strange stillness and sense of loneliness gave her a chill.

  For the last three years, she’d had a purpose—taking care of her mom. Now alone, she felt stuck, even abandoned, and attributed the feeling to the gorgeous man who was moving on. Then something else took shape inside her, something resembling guilt.

  Maybe she should have given the traveling soldier a place to stay.

  The guy smelled delicious, like Oreo cookies, an odd smell for a man who didn't have a teaspoon of fat on his lean frame. Anyway, the thought of offering him milk to dunk his cookies had crossed her mind, but the suggestion would just complicate things. She had enough to do in the next five weeks. Adding one more plate to an already-teetering stack of dishes seemed reckless.

  She retrieved a bottle of pain reliever from under the front counter, but a couple of pills wouldn’t help the type of pain she wanted to dull. Moving to the back kitchen for a glass of water, she realized she’d never asked the guy’s name. She could hear her mother winding up for another lecture. This time, she allowed the familiar encouraging yet demoralizing words to circle. I’m sorry, honey. I should have better prepared you. Taught you how to be independent. To make decisions. To make something of your life. To take risks. We don’t have much time. The spiel flowed so easily when any little thing went wrong or when she needed to make a decision. She wasn’t a total loser. After all, she’d raised enough money to keep a roof over her mother’s head for the last eight months.

  Seeing her grandmother’s shattered china strewn across the hardwood floor again engulfed her in deep sadness. While sweeping the fragments into the dustbin, she remembered handwashing every dish, saucer, and cup for special holidays since the age of eight. She’d hated being forced to sell the set, but the dishes could have paid either a back mortgage payment or the first month’s deposit on an apartment.

  What a waste.

  Disappointment and hunger made her stomach rumble. A brisk walk and some food might do her good. At least they’d give her something else to think about besides her miserable situation and growing list of things to be done. The problem was, her compass was broken
, and she hadn’t a clue what to do first or which direction to go. Her mom had always, always, always made those decisions for her.

  You have a plan. Money. Shelter. Food. Stick with the plan.

  She exhaled the rising panic and snatched her keys off the hook under the counter, shrugged on her coat, then pulled the ‘special event’ sign down and locked the door. Stepping off the plank porch, she inhaled, letting the crisp mountain air calm the frantic must-dos careening through her mind. The sun was out, but the air had a nip she hadn’t felt when she walked Oreo-man out.

  This time of day, Elkridge was in full swing. The semi-weekly delivery truck from Denver had arrived at The Tool Shed, and Mr. Mason was busy unloading hardware and lumber supplies. A single car rumbled down the street. She raised her hand to give Lizzy Cranston a wave, knowing the old biddy would only give her a crusty grimace, but she greeted the town’s grump anyway, hoping one day to get a smile.

  One day. Time was running out. Denver might be her only option if she couldn’t find a job and apartment fast.

  Entering the local hangout, she nodded instead of waving to Doc Brennan and Doc Handle and a few other regulars, hoping they wouldn’t notice her hand. She couldn’t afford stitches, and she wouldn’t accept charity. The doctors had done so much for her mom. Ten bucks a month for the rest of her life wouldn’t begin to repay the debt.

  The restaurant buzzed with talk about Jack Clairemont wanting to bring in a big developer to build a park to attract tourists. Some residents were for it, many against it, but the arguments had gone round and round the same hitching post for the past several months.

  Few things in the small town ever changed, and Jenna’s glad-to-see-you greeting was one of the welcome daily routines. Ashley took her regular spot at the counter while Jenna served her a steaming cup of the best brewed coffee this side of the Continental Divide.

  “So what happened?” Jenna lifted a quizzical brow.

  Ashley raised her hand, displaying the bandage. “It’s nothing. I cut it on a broken piece of porcelain.”

  Jenna acknowledged the bandage across her finger. “Not that, silly. I want to know what happened with the hunk of man sitting at the end of the counter.”

  Ashley leaned in to peer down the counter, her gaze connecting with Mr. Oreo’s. She sighed. He still looked drop-dead yummy, sitting with his elbow propped on the counter, a steaming cup of coffee tilting toward his lips. Those kissable lips that had already crossed her mind a time or two since he left her shop.

  Mentally, she shook her head like a dog shaking off water. She had to stop. Now. She didn’t have time for this kind of nonsense. But oh, that tempting mouth looked more delicious than Jenna’s chocolate éclairs.

  Her eyes narrowed into a suspicious line. “Did you send him over to the shop?”

  “Of course I did. He came in looking for a place to stay. You’re wandering around in that big old house by yourself and have three or four beds he can kick those expensive boots under. You could get a few weeks’ rent…and possibly a bonus, if you know what I mean,” Jenna suggested with a blink, blink, blink and a wide grin.

  She understood perfectly what her friend meant by bonus, but that store wasn’t open for business. “A stranger? At the house? With the break-ins we’ve been having? I don’t think so.”

  “Why? Maggie gave him her patented once-over and said he checked out. You know Maggie. That woman can smell a bad fish in the next county.”

  “Tell me about it. If I ever decide to jump into the dating market, Maggie will be my first stop, since my nice-guy radar sucks.”

  Three years ago, Ashley had been set to marry her college boyfriend. Todd had professed his love the night before her mom called asking for assistance and pleading for her to come home. He dumped her the next morning. His excuse? He just couldn’t go more than a week without sex, and her absence would cramp his style.

  She hated men.

  No. That wasn’t true. She only disliked the ones who’d ripped her heart out and then pulverized it. Her father was living proof males weren’t dependable. Even though she still wanted to love him, her dad wasn’t someone she could count on. Especially when the going got tough. And that hurt.

  She unzipped her coat. “Just because I’ve known every eligible guy in this town since kindergarten—and there isn’t one I’d consider dating—doesn’t mean I need to jump the first out-of-towner who walks through the door.”

  “No, but being alone on the Ridge isn’t a good idea, either. I think he’s cute. What happened?”

  He happened. The gods granted him mortal status and allowed him to stroll in and knock the air out of my lungs. Jenna’s waiting eyes, plus a few other pairs, studied her. The conversations around them stalled, waiting for her reply.

  “Nothing happened,” she asserted. “I told him the room wasn’t available. It hasn’t been cleaned in weeks. Plus, I’ve got to get Mom’s inventory sold and boxed before the bank liquidators take everything.”

  “Excuses. A little dust never hurt anyone, and maybe he can help cart those boxes for you. I thought you supported the military.” Jenna not-so-subtly looked over her shoulder at the man who’d now recognized her and was staring back. “I bet he looks awesome in his dress blues.”

  How had Jenna already figured out what Ashley had missed until that ‘yes, ma’am’ thing? His short-cropped hair, ramrod-straight posture, and controlled movements, combined with the way he sized up a situation and made a decision, should have tipped her off immediately. She surreptitiously peeked around the bodies between them. Sure enough, he had U.S. Marine stamped on his forehead in big, bold, invisible letters. He had to be on leave and looking for a place to pass the holidays. Harold Talbott, the Valu-Stop Grocery Store owner, had already managed to get his mitts on him. Poor grunt. If the guy wasn’t rescued, and fast, he might have to listen to the twelve years of Air Force battle history Harold could rattle off without pausing for breath.

  “So you think the guy’s safe?” Ashley asked, still assessing him.

  “Heavens, no. Are you kidding me? He’s as dangerous as they come.” Jenna studied him for a second. “See? He keeps looking at you like a woman on a diet looks at my cupcakes, not sure if he should indulge or not. I think if you gave him a reason, he might be tempted to lick you to death.”

  Patricia and Margaret Bainbridge, sitting at a nearby table, snickered and turned fifty shades of pink. Ashley gave Jenna a good-natured smirk and pushed back from the counter before her mom’s beyond-the-grave, last-minute advice rewound and started again. She wanted to straighten her hair or jeans, but couldn’t very well do it with all of Elkridge watching.

  “Hey, Harold.” She wrapped her arm around the older man’s shoulders. “Claudia sent me to remind you of your honey-do list,” she said, knowing the man always had a list of his wife’s to-dos.

  Overgrown gray eyebrows hiked up in response. “For forty-two years, that woman’s had a list a mile long. Never can quite get one thing crossed off before she puts another three things on.” He folded his napkin in perfect squares and placed it back on the counter. “By the way, I talked to Claudia. She thinks you ought to use our old camper. It’s a big ol’ thing. Too cold to sleep in this time of year, but with some planning, you might be able to store some stuff until you find something more permanent.”

  “That’d be great, but I need to find a place to stay first. I wouldn’t have enough spare cash to pay you rent.”

  “Who said anything about rent? Maybe we could trade. I’ve got a honey-do list that keeps on growing.”

  Jenna slid a to-go box overflowing with a slice of banana cream pie across the counter. “Take this with you, Harold. It will make you feel better.”

  Harold stood and placed his hand on the soldier’s shoulder. “Watch out for these women. They’ll have you back there doing dishes before you know it.”

  “These women. Really?” Jenna reached for the dessert box, but missed, since Harold scooped it up, gave her an I’m-
faster smirk, and headed toward the door.

  Jenna winked at Ashley before grabbing the coffee pot and sashaying to the nearest booth to refill empty cups.

  Ashley removed her coat, draped it over the stool next to the Marine, and hopped on. She moved Harold’s empty water glass aside to stall for time.

  She studied the soldier’s handsome jawline while he gave her a speculative, intense once-over and then took a bite out of his BLT. The way he sat with his arms surrounding his plate, like any second someone might steal his food, seemed familiar. Her father’s similar eating habit made her uneasy, but the allure of the man made her stay in the seat next to him anyway.

  “I’m embarrassed. You came to my rescue, and I didn’t even ask your name,” she said in the middle of him shoving a bundle of fries in his mouth. Watching him lick salt from his fingers did something to her, especially her lower parts. A feeling she craved, but didn’t want. “Sorry. Not a great time to ask a question.”

  He swallowed, leaned sideways and lowered his voice. “I didn’t know you asked a question.”

  The hot breath brushing her cheek and the humor dancing across his face made her mind go blank. His lips twitched, then a slow-blooming smile spread like a wildfire, heating her innards as it went. “Chase Daniels at your service, ma’am.”

  His strong, deep voice rolled over her the way water cascaded over river rock. But because he was a military man, her caution sign lit up. Her heart had been burned to a crisp a long time ago by her military dad, and she felt the need to heed the warning. There wasn’t much left to salvage. That didn’t mean she didn’t respect the Corps. She might not walk around waving the red, white, and blue, but she hung a flag every Memorial Day, the Fourth, and Veteran’s Day, and every day in between.

  She locked her brave in place, pushed back her shoulders, and said, “Ashley, Ashley Bryant.” Picking up a spoon, she rolled it over and over in her hand before meeting his assessing gaze. “This town generally supports the military. I didn’t quite do my part. Not exactly small-town hospitality, is it? If you’re not picky, I think I may have something I can offer you.”