Название: Starting with June
Автор: Emilie Rose
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
isbn: 9781474008099
isbn:
She stuck out her hand. He ignored it and jerked a nod instead. She couldn’t help but feel insulted. Good thing her landlord was about to move to a larger, more affluent veterinary practice and didn’t need the rent money from this jerk, because June was hoping Sam Rivers wouldn’t be around for long.
* * *
SAM SET HIS keys on the dresser after a fruitless trip to town. Movement outside the single bedroom window caught his eye. He paused to watch the blonde make her way toward the barn. She’d released her hair from the stubby ponytail and put on clothes.
Too bad.
Negative. He was grateful she’d covered all that golden skin. June might be nice eye candy, but he didn’t need the complication. Slip in. Slip out. Leave no trace or ties. That was his MO in the field and out of it. And nothing would change that.
Jeans skimmed her legs and a red polo shirt clung to the breasts that had been about to spill out of her bikini top. The lace-up boots on her feet were a surprise. Her ruffled bathing suit and sequined flip-flops had led him to believe she was a heels kind of girl...even without pedicured toenails, which his sisters considered a necessity of life.
June hadn’t been the least bit self-conscious playing tour guide in a bikini, but then, she shouldn’t be, with her compact, fit figure. He hadn’t seen any fat on her, just curves. Oh yeah, she had those. In all the right places. And slipping her number into the food basket she wouldn’t let him refuse... He shook his head. He had to hand it to her. She wasn’t shy. But then, women weren’t these days—especially around a military base. Sometimes that was convenient. Now wasn’t one of those times.
Roth must have put her up to it. His buddy probably thought Sam needed the distraction. Why else park him next to a beauty? Thanks to the surgeries and the end of his career, Sam hadn’t been up for any drama of the female variety in months. It had been one hell of a long five months. But his life was a three-ring goat screw at the moment. He had no direction, and he wasn’t dragging anyone else into that mess—even temporarily.
June disappeared into the barn. His neighbor was nothing more than another meddling female, albeit an attractive one with her bright green eyes and blond hair that dusted her shoulders, but the last thing he needed was another nosy woman trying to manage his life. He grimaced at the reminder that he hadn’t informed his family of his status change or relocation. He should, but if he made that call, his parents, three older sisters, their husbands and their entourage of noisy teenage daughters would convoy down from Crossville to offer love, support and advice he didn’t want or need.
Translation: they’d smother him, try to baby him and tell him what to do.
After watching the way his mother and half sisters had worried each time his dad was deployed, Sam had learned to keep his trap shut regarding his location. The less they knew, the less they worried. His family had his and Roth’s cell numbers, in the event of an emergency. That was all they needed. And Roth had his momma’s.
The whole lot of them resided in Tennessee, eight hours from Quincey, the same distance it had been from Quantico. Yet the long drive hadn’t kept his family from ambushing him. After a surgery a few years back, some shavetail Louie had called Sam’s mother instead of Roth, Sam’s primary contact, and the whole extended clan had descended on him like ants on a picnic. While he’d been laid up in the hospital, his sisters had rearranged his tiny apartment, thrown out food and possessions and replaced them with crap he’d never touched except to put it in the Dumpster. They’d grilled all his apartment neighbors to find out who he was dating and how long he’d been seeing them. He’d learned his lesson, and he wasn’t setting himself up for that kind of “help” again.
Sam would show up at his parents’ place when he was ready for company and the females’ tag-team analysis torture. That wouldn’t be anytime soon.
Separation from the corps still ached like a recent amputation. Until he was past the rawness and had an idea of what he was going to do with his future or how he’d get reassigned to a base, he didn’t need a bunch of hens clucking around him and telling him how to live his life. That included his temporary neighbor.
His phone vibrated. The screen indicated a text message from Roth.
Settled in yet?
Affirmative. In my hide, Sam tapped back. Streets rolled up at dusk. Grocery store closed before I could stock up.
Yep. At six on Saturday. Welcome to Quincey. Backwoods, USA. Need anything?
Calling would have been easier than texting, but Roth had insisted no one, not even his wife, know the real reason Sam was here until he reported for duty. Conversations could be overheard, and info was on a need-to-know basis.
Negative. I have rations. Did you send her?
Who?
The blonde.
There was a pause before the next text came through.
June?
Yeah.
No. Why?
She brought food.
Eat whatever she cooks—especially her brownies. She’s famous for those.
Except for extracting the lease, Sam had left the basket untouched on the coffee table. For dinner he’d planned to eat one of the MREs in his bag. Brownies sounded better. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had one. He headed for the living room/kitchen combo.
The cottage wasn’t luxurious by any means, but it was clean, comfortable and a hell of a lot nicer than most of the places he’d slept since enlisting. He kept a rat rack in Q-Town. It was more like a hotel room than an apartment, but it came furnished and made dealing with his stuff during deployments uncomplicated.
Had kept, that is. Everything he owned was packed into his Charger. Turning in the key this morning after keeping the place so long had been...an adjustment.
Did she ask about your job? Roth wrote.
Tried. I didn’t crack.
Good. Word spreads faster than flu in Q, and it’s imperative that no one know you’re investigating my squad.
Affirmative.
What do you think of her?
What did he think? Words tripped through his head. Attractive. Annoying. Aggressive. Available. But he settled for typing, Nosy.
Everyone here is. See you Tuesday 6 a.m. Acclimatize till then.
Roger.
Sam deleted the texts, pocketed his phone, then filled a glass with tap water and returned to the basket. Beneath the red-and-white-checked cloth napkin he discovered neatly stacked resealable plastic containers. He located one neatly labeled Brownies with Walnuts, grabbed it and СКАЧАТЬ