The Soldier's Twin Surprise. Judy Duarte

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       Chapter Two

      By the time the sun went down, and a couple of automatic porch lights from the nearby beach house kicked on, Clay’s buddies had moved closer to the blonde and the redhead. But Clay was right where he wanted to be, sitting on the sand and enjoying a second cold beer with Rickie. Things seemed to have clicked between them, which was a little surprising.

      He hadn’t planned to hook up with any women this week, but he also hadn’t expected Rickie to be so easy to talk to. She was a little on the quiet side, but she was bright. And her laugh, which he’d only heard a time or two, had a mesmerizing lilt.

      Hey. The night was still young...

      Of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t being realistic. She’d be returning to her life in Texas soon, and after he drove his buddies to the airport Sunday morning, he’d head back to Wheeler Army Airfield. Still, that left them thirty-six hours. More or less.

      “Are you ready for another beer?” he asked.

      She looked at her nearly empty bottle. “No, I think I’ll switch to soda—if you have any left.”

      Clay got up, headed for the ice chest and retrieved two cans—one cola and a lemon-lime. Then he took a moment to walk to the grassy area near their beach house, where Duck had set up the small grill about fifteen minutes earlier. The coals were coming along okay.

      He glanced over at his buddies. Duck, who’d just said something to make the redhead laugh, glanced up and caught Clay’s eye. Clay nodded at the grill, gave him the thumbs-up sign and returned to Rickie.

      He offered her both cans. “Take your pick.”

      She chose the cola. “Thanks.”

      “We’ll be putting those dogs on the grill soon,” he said. “Are you getting hungry?”

      “A little.” She scanned the beach, her gaze landing on the others, who’d moved over to the grassy area, near the grill and within the perimeter of light coming from the porch. “You know, even though I said I’d join you guys tonight, I’m not really in the mood for a party.”

      Neither was Clay. In fact, he’d rather sit here all evening, enjoying what little time he and Rickie had left. “Why don’t I bring over a couple of hot dogs for us once they’re cooked?”

      “That’d be nice. Thanks.” She made a little hole in the sand, one big enough to hold the bottom of her can. Once she set it down, she turned to him and blessed him with a pretty smile. “So what was it like growing up in Wexler?”

      “I doubt it was much different from your neck of the woods. I lived on a ranch, though. So I had a lot of chores to do each day, plus a cow to milk and a couple of chickens to feed.”

      “That’s cool. I never had any pets.”

      Clay wouldn’t call an old milk cow or four harpy hens pets.

      “Do you still live in Wexler?” she asked.

      “No, after high school I moved on.” He nearly added, to bigger and better things, but there was no reason to share his West Point experience. And his military career was still off the table.

      “Do you miss it?” she asked.

      “The ranch? No, not at all.” He didn’t consider himself a small-town boy anymore. He was a soldier now. And Army proud.

      “When I was in high school, I lived on a quiet street in Jeffersville,” she said. “The houses were all two-story and pretty similar, except we were the only ones who had a pool in our backyard. Actually, I guess I still have one.”

      The comment struck him as a little odd. “So you live with your parents?”

      “No, they both passed away recently. In a car accident. So the house belongs to me now.”

      “I’m sorry. That must have been tough.”

      She shrugged. “It was, but I’m dealing with it.”

      He was about to say something, but the shadow that touched her gaze passed faster than a ghost, so he let it go at that. He didn’t want to stir up any sad memories for her.

      Apparently, she didn’t want to dwell on them, either, because, after a couple of beats, she asked, “Does your family still live on that ranch?”

      “My mom does. My dad died when I was young. When I was a teenager, she and I moved in with my paternal grandfather and my step-grandmother.”

      Rickie turned toward him, her knee drawn up and bent, her hands clasped around her shin. “Tell me about her.”

      “Who? My mom?” He hadn’t seen that coming.

      “Yes, I’m curious about her. My real mother died when I was really young, so I never had the chance to know her.”

      “I thought you said your parents died recently.”

      “They did. I was orphaned the first time when I was eight and then adopted when I was nine.” She cast a glance his way. When their eyes met, she seemed to reel him into her story. Into her life. “My adoptive mother was good to me, but she wasn’t very maternal. At least, not the way I imagined a mom should be. Know what I mean?”

      Not really. But he nodded just the same.

      “I’m not complaining. It’s just that I had a super-cool foster mom once.” She seemed to brighten from the memory, rebounding easily, which was a relief. Clay didn’t like the sad, pensive look that had touched her expression a few moments СКАЧАТЬ