The Military Wife (A Heart of a Hero, #1)(18)



The smell of cedar wafted through the store, reminding Harper of the old trunk her mom kept at the foot of her bed filled with winter quilts. Harper had fallen asleep wrapped in the scent since she was a child. The memories of comfort were ill placed alongside her nerves.

A huge animal sat up next to the door, and she gave a breathy, “Dear Lord,” before she recognized it wasn’t a small bear but an enormous dog. Its fur was an unrelenting black and so thick, she couldn’t guess how much the dog actually weighed. It could be anywhere from 80 to 180 pounds.

The dog gave one deep, chesty woof but didn’t make any threatening growls or movements. Footsteps sounded above her head, each one growing the tension across her shoulders. The dog trotted toward a set of stairs she hadn’t noticed in the corner, its plumed tail wagging like a wind-up toy.

The clomp grew louder. First boots, then jeans-clad legs appeared on the stairs, followed by the bottom of a plaid shirt. The man reached the bottom and swept his gaze over the room, finally landing it on her.

He rubbed the dog’s head, never taking his eyes off Harper, and moved closer. A familiar upright confidence common in military men, especially SEALs, marked his movements, but his hair and beard were distinctly non–military issue.

A mixture of browns, his hair was thick, with a natural wave, and brushed his collar. Wiry gray broke up the darkness of his beard. His features were stamped with a distinct masculinity and grimness that Noah had never acquired even through his deployments.

There was something else she noticed in his expression—a lack of recognition. Anger and relief battled, but relief won. It was like drawing the Get Out of Jail Free card. A reprieve.

Even though the enormous dog stayed at his side, Harper recognized which one of them was the true threat. She’d go a round with the dog over the man any day.

Instead of jumping straight to the accusations she’d practiced on the drive from Fort Bragg to Virginia Beach, she tempered her anger with charm. A direct assault would never gain her victory. “That’s a big dog you’ve got there. Thought it was a bear at first.”

The hand he was using to stroke the dog’s head stilled. Her smile froze. If she could kick her own butt, she would. Why had she mentioned bears, considering his nickname was Grizzly?

He scratched the dog behind the ears, and it rose even higher on its paws, its eyes drooping in pleasure. “Mostly Newfoundland, I figure. No reason to worry, though, he’s a gentle giant. Good with the customers. Plus, he earns his keep. Helps on trips to calm skittish people, provide warmth, scare off predators. That sort of thing.”

“Interesting.” A lull stretched and provided an opportunity, but instead she bought more time, or perhaps more accurately, she chickened out. “What’s his name?”

“Jack London.”

A puff of laughter escaped. “I love it. Seems appropriate for his line of work.”

“Not many people read London nowadays unless it was required.”

“My mother was a librarian, so I read everything. In fact—” She clamped her mouth shut. She’d been getting ready to reveal her namesake, which would have given her away for sure. Knowing the shift was abrupt, she said, “Speaking of trips, I’m interested in your programs.”

“We’re actually closed today.” His expression was a pleasant enough mask, but hardly friendly.

“Oh, well, the door was unlocked.” She thumbed over her shoulder and tried on her sweetest smile, which her mom had likened to tart lemonade. “Since I’m here, do you mind? Not sure when I’ll make it back into town.”

He glanced down her body. Not in a sexual way, but an assessment as to her level of fitness for his school’s programs. She had a feeling the jeans she had tucked into brown riding-style boots and her pink-and-blue sweater didn’t project “hard-core survivalist.” To his credit, he didn’t say anything except, “Have you had a chance to look over the options on the website? Some are more intense than others.”

She had read through them all with a fair amount of horror. Paying to freeze her butt off in the middle of nowhere wasn’t her idea of fun. Central heat and air-conditioning had been invented for a purpose, thank you very much. Not to mention how much she enjoyed bug-and wildlife-free sleeping arrangements. Her one and only camping experience with Noah had ended with her sleeping in the backseat of the truck after a centipede had gotten into her sleeping bag.

“Could you review them for me right quick?”

He gestured toward a sales counter tucked into the corner of the room. Instead of going around to the other side, he reached over, pulled a brochure from behind the counter, and spread it between them.

His hands were broad, with a few silvery scars along the backs. The sleeves of his red-and-blue plaid flannel were rolled up revealing thick, sinewy forearms dotted with dark hair. Her shoulder brushed his biceps.

She totally got his nickname. Grizzly. He was very bear-like, huge and intimidating, especially with the beard. Her stomach did calisthenics and not just from nerves. Or at least a different type of nerves. It had been a long time since she’d been anywhere near this level of sheer manliness.

His forefinger moved down the page as he detailed each option. She only half-listened. Fire starting. Navigation. Shelter building. Bowhunting. The inflections in his voice were similar to Noah’s—a Southerner then—but with key differences. Bennett’s accent was rougher around the edges and not quite as polished, but hypnotic. When he finished, he folded the brochure and held it out to her. She didn’t take it.

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