Holidays on the Ranch (Burnt Boot, Texas #1)(2)

From a distance he still looked the same. Broad shoulders, sculpted abs, biceps that stretched the sleeves of any shirt on the market, thighs that testified he was used to hard work, and hands that could be either soft or tough depending on what was needed. Yes, that was her Finn: the man she’d had a crush on for three years, though she’d never said a word about it. They were partners, sniper and spotter, and were closer than a husband and wife in lots of ways. But partners didn’t act on crushes and they damn sure didn’t get involved with each other, not when they had to do the jobs that Finn and Callie were called upon to do.

She threw back the hood of her jacket and put her sunglasses in her pocket. The moment he lowered his sunglasses and recognized her, he started her way, meeting her in the middle of the yard in a bear hug that brought her feet off the ground.

“God, I’ve missed you so much,” he said.

Heart pounding, pulse racing, she was slow to let go when he set her firmly back on the ground.

“Lala?” she asked.

His wife damn sure wouldn’t appreciate him showing so much affection to his old partner. Any minute now Callie expected her to come out of the house, maybe with a grenade in her hands.

He held her by her shoulders. “Lala isn’t here, Callie. That’s a story for another day. I can’t believe you’re right here in front of me. I’ve thought of you every day since I came home. What in the hell are you doing in Burnt Boot, Texas?”

Her aqua eyes locked with his crystal-clear blue ones and held for what seemed like an eternity. There was no Lala and he was glad to see her. She had known this was the right decision.

“I need a place to stay.” Her voice was an octave too high but, hell on wheels, Finn O’Donnell had hugged her. She’d almost had a damn fangirl moment.

He stepped back and looked toward the two vans. Three doors opened as if they’d been synchronized. A kid, who reminded Finn of a young colt that hadn’t quite grown into his spindly legs, jumped from the van. Shotgun ran out to the boy, put his paws on his shoulders, and the two of them fell to the ground for a wrestling game.

“Remember me talking about my nephew, Martin?”

“He need a place to stay, too?” Finn asked.

She nodded and for the first time she had doubts about the whole thing.

“You brought government men. I guess this is serious?”

Another nod. “It is.”

“Then I expect we’d best go in the house and talk about it.” He draped an arm around her shoulders. “Okay if Martin stays outside with Shotgun? Old dog has missed kids since we’ve been in Burnt Boot. You haven’t changed a bit in two years. You still as sassy as ever?”

“Callie?” the boy called out.

“You can stay outside if you stay in the yard.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well? Are you still a pistol?” Finn asked as they took the three steps up to the porch.

“Damn straight, O’Donnell,” she answered.

Callie’s breath tightened in her chest. She could think it was fear of leaving Martin alone, but if she was totally honest with herself, it was the way Finn had hugged her and still kept an arm thrown loosely over her shoulders. Old feelings surfaced that she thought she’d buried long ago, and now there was no Lala in the picture. Sweet Jesus, could she trust herself to walk into a situation like this?

***

Finn stood back to let Callie go inside first. “I’ve got a pot of coffee brewing and sweet tea in the refrigerator. Excuse the mess. I’m not even unpacked yet. I’d hoped that these men who brought you here wouldn’t be able to ever find me again, but I guess Big Brother has his ways. Might as well come on in the kitchen.”

The three men that got out of the vehicle with Callie filed into the house ahead of him and stopped inside an enormous great room housing a living room with a huge stone fireplace on the east end, a big dining room, and a country kitchen. Finn led the way to the kitchen area and motioned toward a round table flanked by six chairs. He hated to take his arm away from Callie, for fear she would vanish into the cold winter air, and he had so much to tell her about what had happened since they’d said good-bye in Afghanistan two years ago. Lord, he’d fantasized about Callie right up until Lala came into his life, but he remembered how much he wanted to kiss her full lips and how his hands itched to brush her long, dark hair away from her face. He’d dreamed about waking up to those big aqua-colored eyes staring at him in the morning. And now she was right there in his kitchen.

“Have a seat,” he said.

“Need some help?” Callie asked.

“I got it covered.” He opened three cabinet doors before he located the coffee cups and then glanced back over his shoulder. “Coffee for everyone?”

Three men nodded.

“Black just like always, Callie?”

“I haven’t changed a bit,” she said.

He carried cups to the table, then drew his chair close enough that his knee touched hers. “Okay, Callie, let’s hear that story.”

Otis picked up his coffee and said, “She needs to go into Witness Protection. She and the boy both. I’m Otis, by the way, and these are Special Agents Jones and Smith.”

Finn shot a look across the table. “I know Jones and Smith. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Otis, but I asked her to tell me, not you.”