Rachel Gibson - Rescue Me

He chuckled and belted himself in. “You headed to Lovett yourself?”

“Unfortunately.” She glanced at him out of the corners of her eyes. “I was born and raised here but I escaped when I was eighteen.”

He pushed up the bill of his hat and looked across his shoulder at her. His driver’s license had stated that his eyes were green and they were. A light green that wasn’t quite spooky. More unsettling, as he stared back at her from that very masculine face. “What brings you back?” he asked.

“Wedding.” Unsettling in a way that made a girl want to twist her hair and put on some red lip gloss. “My cousin’s getting married.” Her younger cousin. “I’m a bridesmaid.” No doubt the other bridesmaids were younger, too. They’d probably arrive with a date. She’d be the only single one. Old and single. A “Welcome to Lovett, Texas, Y’all” sign marked the city limits. It had been painted a bright blue since the last time she’d been home.

“You don’t look happy about it.”

She’d been out of Texas too long if her “uglies” were showing. According to her mother, “uglies” were any emotions that weren’t pretty. A girl could have them. Just not show them. “The dress is meant for someone ten years younger than me and is the color of Bubble Yum.” She glanced out the driver’s side window. “What brings you to Lovett?”

“Pardon?”

She glanced at him as they passed a used car lot and a Mucho Taco. “What brings you to Lovett?”

“Family.”

“Who’re your people?”

“Person.” He pointed to the Gas and Go across the street. “You can drop me off there.”

She cut across two lanes and pulled into the parking lot. “Girlfriend? Wife?”

“Neither.” He squinted and looked out the windshield at the convenience store. “Why don’t you go ahead and call your friend Renee, and tell her you’re still in one piece.”

She pulled to a stop in an empty slot next to a white pickup and reached into the cup holder. “Don’t want the sheriff knocking on your door?”

“Not on my first night.” He unbuckled the belt and opened the passenger door. His feet hit the pavement and he stood.

She could practically smell the popcorn from the Gas and Go as she punched in Renee’s number. Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way” played in her ear until her assistant answered. “I’m not dead.” Sadie pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. “I’ll see you in the office on Monday.”

The rear door opened and he pulled out his duffel. He dumped it on the curb, then closed the door. He placed his hands on the roof of the car, then leaned down and looked through the car at her. “Thanks for the ride. I appreciate it. If there’s any way I can repay you, let me know.”

It was the kind of thing people said and never meant. Like asking, “How are you?” when no one really gave a crap. She looked across at him, into his light green eyes and dark masculine face. Everyone in town had always said she had more nerve than sense. “Well, there is one thing.”

Vince Haven lowered the bill of his ball cap and watched the Saab pull out of the parking lot. Normally he didn’t mind doing a favor for a beautiful woman. Especially one who’d saved him from humping it ten miles into town. Although compared to a thirty-mile jog or a hike in the Afghani mountains with at least sixty pounds on his back and enough ammo in his chest rig to blow up a small village, a ten-mile walk across the Texas panhandle was just a pleasant stroll through the country. Back in the day he’d have packed an M4A1 across his chest, his Sig on his hip, and a.45ACP 1911 custom sidearm strapped to his thigh.

He reached for his old Navy-issue pack and tucked it under one arm. He’d turned Sadie down and blamed it on not having a suit. Which was true but wasn’t why he’d told her no. Blond-haired Sadie wasn’t his type. She was certainly pretty enough. Beautiful really, but he liked his blondes easy. Easygoing, easy tempered, easy to be around, and easy to get in the sack. Brunettes and redheads, too. An easy woman didn’t ask anything from him, like wearing a suit and attending a wedding where he knew no one. Easy didn’t chew his ears off with talk of feelings. Easy didn’t demand a commitment beyond sex, or any sort of stability, nor did easy expect the one hundred and one other things he was unable to give. Luckily for him, there were plenty of easy women who liked him as much as he liked them.

He didn’t know what that said about him. Probably a lot. Probably things he wouldn’t particularly like to admit. Good thing for him, he didn’t particularly give a shit.

The rubber heels of his boots didn’t make a sound as he moved toward the front of the store, passing a white truck with a big dent in the rear fender. The woman who’d dropped him off was far from dumb. A dumb woman wouldn’t phone in his ID like he was a serial killer before she let him in her car. He’d actually been impressed by that, and the nonexistent stun gun had been a nice touch, too. He didn’t know if she was easy. Sometimes smart women were just as easy as dumb, but he’d guess not. Her clothes-jeans and a big gray hoodie-hadn’t given any clues, and he hadn’t been able to tell if the body matched the face. Not that it mattered. Women like Sadie always wanted a relationship. Even when they said they didn’t, and he wasn’t in any position to commit to more than a one- or two-night stand. Possibly more if all the woman wanted was great sex.

He pulled open the front door, and the smell of popcorn, hot dogs, and Pine-Sol hit him. A cowboy stood at the counter loaded down with jerky and a twelve-pack of Lone Star, chatting it up with a woman with a pile of fine gray hair and deep wrinkles. A white “Don’t Mess with Texas” T-shirt was tucked into the belted skirt beneath her breasts. She looked a bit like a skinny Shar Pei with long, dangly earrings.

“Hello, Aunt Luraleen.”

“Vince!” His mother’s sister glanced up from bagging the cowboy’s jerky. “Well, aren’t you just a handsome sight.” Her blue eyes were bright as she came around the counter. She hurled herself into his chest and he dropped the pack at his feet. She wrapped her arms around as much of him as she could and squeezed him with the kind of free affection he’d never understood. His mother’s Texas relatives were natural-born huggers, like it was part of them. Like it was in their DNA, but somehow neither he nor his sister had inherited the hugging gene. He raised a hand to pat her back. How many pats was enough? One? Two. He kept it at two.

She lifted her chin from his chest and looked up at him. It had been several years since he’d seen her, but she hadn’t changed. “You’re as big as hell and half of Texas,” she said in that deep, tobacco raspy twang that had scared the hell out of him as a kid. How she’d lived so long was a testament to stubbornness rather than clean living. He guessed he’d inherited that particular strand of DNA because he hadn’t exactly lived a clean life himself. “Good-lookin’ as original sin, too,” she added.

“Thanks.” He smiled. “I get my looks from my Southern relatives.” Which wasn’t true. His Texas relatives were fair-skinned and redheaded. Like his sister. The only thing he’d inherited from his mother was green eyes and a penchant to roam from place to place. He got his black hair and roving eye from his father.

Luraleen gave him one last squeeze with her skinny arms. “Bend down here so I can kiss you.”

As a kid, he’d always cringed. As a thirty-six-year-old man, and a former Navy SEAL, he’d endured worse than his aunt’s Marlboro breath. He lowered his cheek.

She gave him a big smack, then rocked back on the heels of her comfortable shoes as the cowboy exited the Gas and Go. “Luraleen,” he said as he passed.