Amy Fetzer - The Re-Enlisted Groom

This is for Mimi, she reminded herself. If Maxie avoided Kyle, he would just get curious and ask questions, which would inevitably lead to ones concerning Mimi. For the briefest moment, when she’d first seen Kyle after so long, she’d considered stashing Mimi’s things, closing off her room and letting her daughter stay longer at her grandmother’s to avoid any contact with him. But the thought had died as quickly as it had formed. She couldn’t do it. Mimi was everything to her, and she was proud of her little girl. She had had no reason to hide her six years ago and she wouldn’t do it now. Besides, Kyle had made it clear by not answering her letters that he’d no interest in what happened to her after their breakup, and if his present attitude was any indication, he still didn’t Nothing had changed.

Suddenly the image of her daughter—dark red hair in braided pigtails and bright, expressive green eyes-burst in her mind, like Mimi always burst into the house. No, she corrected, everything had changed from the moment she’d met her daughter. I miss her, she thought, then stiffened her spine, determined to get through the next couple weeks without any more emotional scratches.

Dust and dirt kicked up as the chopper neared, and she admitted she was impressed at how he lowered the craft gracefully to the ground. The noise immediately lessened, the blades beating the air in a slow drone. Maxie stopped, shoving her gloved hands into her jacket pockets, and didn’t approach as he flipped switches, then removed the radio headset and a baseball cap. Even from here, she could tell the cap had the Marine Corps emblem on it. He pushed open the door and climbed out, opened the rear hatch and removed his seabag. That faded piece of military luggage was a constant reminder of their last night together. She wanted to burn it, but he hitched it over his shoulder, then reached for a black cowboy hat, donning it as he walked toward her. Her heart jumped in her chest, her gaze moving over him. Even hidden behind sunglasses and beneath the hat, he still had the rugged good looks that made women sigh. She couldn’t fight the riot suddenly skipping through her as his thigh muscles flexed with each stride. She remembered what his skin felt like beneath her palms, his body wrapped around hers and what an unselfish lover he’d been. A warm coil of heat curled through her, tightening her breasts, tingling up the back of her thighs. Her knees felt papery, and Maxie jerked her gaze away, staring anywhere except at him. It would not help to think this way, she reminded herself, shoving her sunglasses back up her nose. Kyle was the last person she wanted in her life, not to mention in her bed.

Kyle stopped directly in front of her, and she looked at him as he nudged his hat back. He wanted to see what was going on behind those sunglasses and knew she wore them to shield more than just the sun. He tipped his down, peering, and liked that she tensed. His gaze lowered to her lips, and the intensity of their kiss in the barn ripped through him. He was aching for another taste when the husky sound of her voice made his heart skip.

“Welcome to Wind Dancer, Kyle.”

His lips quirked. “Am I welcome, Max? Or tolerated?”

“A little of both,” she said honestly, not moving a muscle, even when she could feel the heat of his body, see every sinfully long lash surrounding his dark eyes. A brave front, she thought.

Kyle glanced briefly at the ranch house beyond her and imagined what it would be like, living with her. Did she still go nuts over chocolate and hate asparagus? he wondered, looking down at her. Did she still have a wild collection of lingerie that had always made him hot just to look at her and wonder what feminine scrap was beneath her clothes? Even as the enticing thought materialized, he knew he was in for torment. With himself. Don’t let her get to you. Don’t. This is one woman you cannot trust.

The sudden surge of anger made his voice harsh. “Where should I stow my gear?”

She stepped back. “That’s all you have?” She nodded to the seabag.

“I travel light.”

His tone was clipped and Maxie sighed. Clearly he didn’t want to play this beyond the edge of civility. Fine. At least she was making an effort. She spun around, and he followed her to the house, both silent.

But Kyle’s gaze was on her back, more so—her backside. And the way it filled those tight jeans enough to fill his mind with nothing but what was beneath and seeing her again without them. Man, oh man, this was tough already, and he forced himself to remember every detail of their wedding day. She was a selfish coward, plain and simple, he thought as he mounted the porch steps behind her. She opened the door, walking briskly inside.

Crossing the threshold, Kyle regained his determination as he removed his sunglasses and hat. His gaze quickly scanned the Southwest decor of beige walls, terra-cotta-hued furniture, the room dotted with blue-and-coral trimmings. The warmth of the decor settled into him instantly, calming the tension he’d felt since he landed on her property. He spotted baskets filled with odd collections of croquet balls, oversize wooden spools of thread and even branding irons. Antique oil cans were tucked here and there, some hidden by plants, others in plain sight like the grouping near a sixfoot-wide fireplace dominating the living room. Kyle liked it and thought it suited her. At least this new Maxie.

“Nice place.”

“Thank you.”

“To hide,” he added.

Over the rim of her sunglasses, she slid him a frosty glance as she stripped off her jacket. “I wasn’t hiding, Kyle,” she defended, removing her shades. “I’ve been right here.”

“But who knew?”

“Anyone who was interested did,” she snapped, and was about to add to her defense, then closed her mouth and hung her hat and parka on a peg near the door. She didn’t need to provoke questions, she thought, reminding herself to stop responding to his remarks. He had no right to be curious about her life. Crossing the foyer, she turned down a hall. After passing four doors, she stopped near the last on the right, throwing it open.

“In here,” she said, leaning back against the frame and folding her arms like a warden outside a jail cell

Kyle moved past her, his big body brushing hers, and he felt a subtle heat stroke up his body. He stilled, searching her gaze and wondering if she felt it. Wondering if he’d imagined those moments in the barn.

“The bath is next door. Dinner is in—” she checked her watch “—about a half an hour.” She turned away.

Summarily dismissed, he thought, but then something made her pause, her hand on the door frame. She looked back, meeting his gaze across the wide brass bed. Kyle felt the world, the room, tighten down on him, focusing on her eyes, green and clear. Wavy dark red hair fell over one eye, partially shielding her face. Her stare was confident, even when he let his meander over her wind-chapped cheeks, her tightly tucked shirt molding to her breasts, defining their fullness. Her nipples tightened, pushing against the fabric, and his gaze flew to her face. Her expression didn’t alter a fraction. Lord, she was still so beautiful, he thought, ageless, and for a moment he was twenty-three and so hungry for her he couldn’t think straight. So in love with her his arms ached.

Something flickered in her eyes, and the corner of her mouth lifted wistfully. “Make yourself at home, Kyle. The fridge is stocked with snacks...and beer.”

He breathed his first normal breath since walking through the door. “thanks, Max.” He dumped the seabag on the bed before he did something stupid like grab her against him.

“Think nothing of it,” she said, and by her tone, he knew she meant it. He was immediately on guard again. He was right. This was like waiting for enemy gunfire.