Caro Carson - The Majors' Holiday Hideaway

Her stomach churned.

Was she so desperate for a human connection that she would have offered sex to a stranger this morning? A total stranger?

She dropped her face into her hands and wallowed in her own foolishness for a moment.

Foolish—but she’d been undeniably excited as she’d waited for him to arrive. So alive with hope for...something.

Whoever he was, he’d said he’d come back to finish before Christmas. He might not return until Christmas Eve day, when she’d be on her way to San Antonio and the house would be full of cold air and noxious fumes. Nicholas had said the workers wanted to get started by seven in the morning, so they could finish by lunch, what with it being Christmas Eve and all, ma’am .

The week stretched ahead of her, six more nights. Helen had warned her there would be nothing to do here, hadn’t she? It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours yet, and India was already feeling stifled in a house big enough to hold four of her apartments.

She supposed she could start perfecting her own Bloody Mary recipe. Sure. Drinking alone wouldn’t be depressing at all. She could add some salty tears in there for flavor. Ha ha ha.

Outdoors, the weather was about ten degrees warmer than Brussels, but the sunshine was ten times as bright. Texas was known for blistering hot summers, but that meant it had sunny winters, too. India checked the coat closet and found Helen’s red, double-breasted peacoat.

She might as well go out and be lonely in the sunshine.

Chapter Five

The only sign of civilization was a bridge.

The house sat on two acres, India knew from all the conversations she’d had with Helen this past year, but the view from the flagstone patio sloped away for miles beyond the property line. The undeveloped land really did look the way Texas looked in cowboy movies. The ground was mostly brown; the sparse trees were struggling to hold on to their green despite the approaching winter. India wasn’t certain what sagebrush actually was, but she assumed it was the random shrubs that dotted the landscape. There was a single tumbleweed, too, off in the distance, a slow-rolling ball of sticks that could have been a movie prop.

The open land under the blue sky would give a person a sense of serenity, perhaps, if that person wasn’t her. She was feeling small and lonely. Wilderness didn’t exactly chase that feeling away.

India headed for the bridge. The classic wood structure was only wide enough for people on foot, like her. It crossed a creek than ran down the length of the property. The golden-beige brick house stood somewhere beyond the other side of the bridge, she was certain. Helen’s note said the neighbors had taken the dog overnight to give India a chance to sleep off her jet lag. That meant the neighbors must be experienced with jet lag themselves—and must be very kind, as well. How lucky for Helen to live near people like that. How lucky for India last night.

Then again, maybe it wasn’t rare luck. Maybe neighbors like that were common here. There were a lot of ex-military people in an army town, and military folks understood travel, deployments, hardship tours. They understood how far a kindness like watching a pet could go. At home, India was the only soldier in her apartment building. If she lived here, she would be surrounded every time she went into town by military and former military—like the bookcase guy.

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