Julie Miller - Basic Training

His careful stride took him past Tess, allowing him to eavesdrop on the plea coming from Nixa Newhaven’s pruney lips. “It would only be for four hours on Monday evening.”

Four hours sacrificed for Miss Newhaven and her dowager cronies? What a downer.

A kindred spirit of being forced into something unpleasant made Travis stop there and exchange a few words with his father regarding his sister, Caitlin, her husband, Sean, and how they were going to make Hal a grandpa in the next two weeks. He already knew the facts and was delighted he was about to become an uncle, but at the moment, Travis was only listening to the short list of prospective baby names because it gave him an excuse to linger close enough to hear Tess’s response.

“I was hoping to check out the festival myself Monday night. Before things get too crazy.” Her tone, while polite enough, lacked the conviction to talk Miss Newhaven out of anything. “Besides, I’m working three other nights at the concession stand already.”

Nixa tutted between her teeth. “Do you have an escort to go with you?”

“You mean a date? Well, no, not yet. I thought Amy and I—”

“You girls can’t go out by yourself.” Nixa’s silver hair bent closer to Tess’s golden brown ponytail to whisper, “There’ll be sailors in town.”

Oh, the shock of it all! Travis twisted his lips to hide his grin. There’d be Marines and soldiers and civilians, too. And he’d bet good money that if any one of them was a little too forward with Tess, she could handle herself just fine.

Of course, she might be wanting one of them to be a little forward. Maybe a lot forward. Travis’s grin slipped. He hadn’t been home to Ashton for a year. Maybe he didn’t know Tess as well as he thought he did anymore. Was she seeing someone now? Dating around? Just because he’d never thought of her in that way before didn’t mean some other guy hadn’t noticed what a sweet package she’d morphed into.

Was she looking to meet someone? Get married? Have a fling? A one-night stand? And why the hell should her love life—in whatever form it might exist—get him all curious and itchy inside his skin like this? It wasn’t any of his business. She was a grown woman—She could sleep with anyone she damn well liked. As long as the man respected her. Made it good for her.

Hell. Why was it turning him inside out to think about Tess and sex in the same sentence?

No. Tess and sex with some man Travis didn’t know. Some jerk who wasn’t good enough for her.

“Miss Newhaven,” Travis heard Tess pipe up, “I have a right to a social life.”

“Of course, you do, dear.” Nixa Newhaven was patting Tess’s hand now. “But you’ve always been so good about helping out when you’re needed. I don’t know who else to ask.”

A breath of cool-headed logic seeped in to calm the unsettling stab of emotion. Tess had said she was working three nights next week. Nixa Newhaven seemed to think she was available to work a few nights more. And the older woman had asked whether Tess had a date.

Tess was unattached. Safe. He’d gotten himself all worked up over nothing.

Travis shouldn’t be breathing any easier, but he was.

He relaxed and savored his next swallow as Tess tried again. “Miss Newhaven—”

“I don’t claim to understand all these modern mores that you young people follow. But I really could use your help. Doris Mead simply can’t tolerate the heat the way she used to and I said I’d find a replacement to work her shift at the concession stand. Since you don’t have any specific plans…”

Since there was no date currently in the picture, Travis should do the gallant thing and give Tess the excuse she needed to get out of the assignment by asking her out himself. Yeah. He could just step up, offer Nixa a bit of a flirty smile to knock her off her garters, then chime in with something like, “Sorry, she can’t be bored to tears for four hours. Tess and I have plans—sharing a couple of carnival rides, strolling through the historic shops of Ashton’s Main Street, sipping margaritas on the dock, and then maybe taking a sailboat out onto the water to do a little canoodling under the moonlight.”

Sure, he could do that. An unexpected rightness seemed to lift his mood. Lord knew it wouldn’t be the first time he’d offered his services to a damsel in distress. He turned to join their conversation. Nixa tipped her chin, waiting expectantly when he smiled down at her. It sounded like a perfect evening. It sounded…

Wrong with Tess.

He swung his startled gaze over to lock onto Tess’s green-gold eyes, tilted up with curiosity. “Trav?”

Travis rubbed his knuckles along the newly healed skin at his jaw, frowning at the bitter taste in his mouth. He shouldn’t be thinking about canoodling with Tess. Or kissing or hugging—or stripping off that lavender T-shirt and whatever sensible thing she wore underneath to get a firsthand look at those perky, provocative breasts in all their naked glory.

“I’m sorry,” he finally ground out between clenched teeth. He turned away from plain, practical Tess and mustered a smile for Nixa. “I figured you’d be turning in early, and just wanted to say goodnight in case I missed you later.”

“That’s so considerate of you. Isn’t it, Tess?”

“Yes.”

Before he could hear what else either of them had to say, before the intuitive concern shining in Tess’s eyes figured out his crazily inappropriate urges, Travis walked away.

No. He limped.

He wasn’t in a position to rescue anybody—even from something as harmless as Nixa Newhaven’s pushy assumptions.

He had to get out of there. And fast.

TRAVIS HAD ROLLED up the sleeves of his camo shirt and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. He stood in the shadows beneath the log pier and watched the moon rise high into the midnight sky.

The gray-green water of Chesapeake Bay lapped against the Virginia shoreline, throwing up an occasional spray to cool the steamy July night. Tomorrow, he’d get to dress in his civvies. Shorts or jeans, and a beat-up top that would be thin enough and cool enough to deal with the summer heat.

But he wasn’t looking forward to it.

The Corps actually expected him to shed his uniform for four to six weeks. Forced R and R to get his body back in shape and his head in the right place. Even two weeks was too long to suit him. It felt like quitting. Like throwing in the towel when he knew there was still some fight left in him.

But what if he didn’t have it in him anymore—the skills, the edge, the drive—the able body and clear-headed mindset to be a captain in Special Ops? If that were the case, he’d have been better off if that explosion had killed him.

“Hell.” He shook his head and inhaled a deep, steadying breath, focusing his attention on the gentle rocking of the boats anchored beneath the pier. He didn’t need to go to that dark place again. Men and women in uniform died every day, not because they wanted to, but because they understood their duty. They fought to survive, to carry out their assignments, driven by the faith put in them by their country and the Corps.

He needed to fight just as hard to carry out his duty.

Because if he couldn’t fight his way back to his field service assignment with the Corps, he didn’t have a clue about what he would do.

His hometown thought he was some kind of hero. What a joke. He couldn’t even help an old buddy get out of a boring night working the fair next week. The Action Man might not be fit for action anymore. How the hell was he supposed to deal with that? It scared him senseless.

But Travis’s senses weren’t so far gone that he couldn’t hear the soft squish of footsteps approaching across the golden sand beach. That he didn’t recognize the intruder who’d found his childhood hiding place, even before she spoke.