Helen Lacey - Lucy and The Lieutenant

But that hadn’t happened. He’d ignored her. Despite her smiles and friendly attention.

And the more he ignored her, the more she wanted him. His indifference became fuel for her teenaged fantasies and starved libido. So maybe it was just sex and she was simply too inexperienced to recognize it for what it was.

“What’s wrong with that, anyway?” she shot back as heat climbed over her skin.

His gaze narrowed. “What’s wrong with sex? Nothing...if that’s all you’re after.” He reached out and touched her hair, trapped a few strands between his fingertips. It was the first time he’d touched her and it was electric. “But you don’t strike me as the casual-sex kind of girl, Doc Monero. In fact, I’d bet my boots you are the white-picket-fence, happy-ever-after kind.”

God, if he only knew, he’d probably run a mile.

“That’s quite a judgment. And what are you? Only casual, no happy-ever-after?”

“Close enough,” he said and returned his hands to the wheel.

“Back at the tavern you said you...liked me...so which is it?”

“Neither. Both. You’re wasting your time with me. I’m not marriage material. So, good night.”

Humiliation coursed through her veins and Lucy grabbed her bag and placed it in her lap. She got the message loud and clear. He was awful. Just awful. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Are you going to walk me to my door?”

“This isn’t a date,” he said quietly.

He was such a jerk, and he was right about one thing: she was seriously wasting her time being attracted to him. Lucy set her teeth together and opened the door. “Thanks for the lift. I’ll get my car towed in the morning. Good night.”

“Good night...Lucy.”

She got out, shut the door and stomped up the path and to the front door. While she was opening the door she realized he was still parked by the curb. So maybe he did have some chivalry in him. Ha—but not enough. As she got inside and peeked through the lace curtains to watch him finally drive away, Lucy decided she was going to forget all about him and spend her nights dreaming of someone else. Anyone else.

And the sooner she started the better.

* * *

Brant had been visiting his mother’s home for lunch nearly every Saturday since he’d returned from his last tour. Colleen insisted they have a family catch-up and he didn’t mind. He loved his mom, even though she drove him nuts with her attempts to interfere in his personal life. He knew there were only good intentions in her meddling, so he usually laughed it off and ignored her. But today—the morning after the whole Lucy-Monero-and-her-broken-down-car thing—Colleen was onto him the moment he stepped foot into her kitchen.

“I went into town early to get eggs and milk and saw Lucy’s car outside the tavern,” she said, her wide-eyed gaze all speculation and curiosity.

Brant walked around the timber countertop, grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured coffee. “Her car broke down. I gave her a lift home.”

And acted like a total horse’s ass.

“She didn’t spend the night?”

Color crept up his neck. His mother looked disappointed. Boy, sometimes he wished he had one of those parents who didn’t want to talk about every single thing. “No, Mom, she didn’t.”

Colleen smiled. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to encourage her a little. She’s a nice girl. Smart. Pretty. Sweet. And she has a kind spirit. I think she’d be a good match for you.”

Brant sighed. “Are we really going to do this every Saturday?”

She grinned. “Every Saturday? I don’t think I mentioned it last weekend.”

“Oh, yeah, you did.” Brant sugared his coffee and sat at the table. “I’m not in the market for a relationship right now,” he said for the umpteenth time. “I need time to—”

“I know that’s what you think,” she said gently, cutting him off. “But I’m concerned about you.”

“I know you’re worried about me, Mom, but I’m okay,” he assured her.

“You went through a lot over there,” she said, her eyes glittering. “More than any of us will probably ever know. You’re my son and I’m always going to be looking out for you, regardless of how old you are. When you have a child of your own you will understand what I mean.”

“She’s right, you know.”

They both looked toward the doorway. His brother, Grady, stood on the threshold.

Brant frowned as his brother came into the room and sat. “You said you wouldn’t encourage her,” Brant reminded him.

Grady shrugged. “When she’s right, she’s right. I don’t think it would matter how old my girls are, I’ll always be on hand to make sure they’re all right.”

“See,” Colleen said and smiled. “At least one of my sons had the good sense to listen to me.”

Brant groaned. “Just because you meddled in his life and got him on the way to the altar, don’t think you are going to do that with me. I have no intention of getting married anytime soon.”

“You’re thirty years old,” his mom reminded him quietly. “And a civilian. You can have a normal life now, Brant.”

No, he couldn’t...

But he wasn’t about to go down that road with his mother and brother. They didn’t know much about what had happened before he’d left Afghanistan for good. He hardly dared think about it, let alone consider sharing it with his family. If they knew, they’d close ranks, smother him, give him sympathy and understanding when he deserved neither. In his mind, despite how hard he tried to get the thought out of his head, he was still a soldier. Still standing on the ridge. Still hearing the gunfire and the screams of the men in his unit who’d lost their lives that day.

“So where are the girls this morning?” he asked his brother, shifting the subject.

“With Marissa, getting their hair done.” Grady grinned. “It’s a practice run for their wedding-day hair.”

Brant admired his brother. He’d raised his three young daughters alone since his wife, Liz, had died a couple of years earlier. Brant admired Marissa, too. His soon-to-be sister-in-law adored his nieces and had effortlessly stepped into her role as stepmother to the girls since she’d accepted his brother’s proposal. Grady was a good man. The best he knew. And Brant was pleased his brother had found happiness again.

“O’Sullivan increased the offer,” Brant said and drank some coffee.

Grady tapped his fist on the table. “Son of a bitch!”

“I didn’t accept,” he said when he saw his brother’s swiftly gathering rage. “And I won’t.”

“Liam O’Sullivan believes he can have and do whatever he wants, just like his old man,” Grady said and scowled. “The whole bunch of them think they’re so damned entitled. No wonder Liz couldn’t wait to get away from them. He only wants the Loose Moose because he doesn’t want the competition. I heard he’s been sniffing around Rusty’s again, too. When Ted Graham finally does decide he wants to retire, O’Sullivan will be circling like a hyena.”

“I told Ted I’d be interested in Rusty’s if it comes on the market. He’s not foolish enough to let the O’Sullivans get hold of the place. He hates them as much as you do.”

Grady grunted. “You want two pubs? That’s ambitious.”

Brant shrugged. “Gotta make a living doing something.”

“I thought you might want to come back to the ranch where you belong.”

“I’m not much of a cowboy these days,” he said, grinning.

“You’re good with horses,” Grady said generously. “Would be a shame to waste that skill entirely.”

“You know I’ll always give you a hand if you need it. But not full-time.”

Grady nodded. “What about school?” his brother queried. “You said you were thinking of studying business at the community college.”