A Chance of a Lifetime (34 page)

That's a lot to read into one look,
she mocked herself. Honestly, he was damn good-looking. The rest was fantasy.

Nothing wrong with a little fantasy,
Scott's memory whispered.

“So . . .” The guy's husky voice broke the silence, along with the sound of his window sliding down. “You know what you want?”

An innocent question to conjure so many answers in her head. She stuck with the pertinent one. “A number one combo, no onions, and a cherry limeade.”

He pressed the order button, waited for the tinny response, and ordered two of the same.  She breathed in the cool air that filled the cab, catching a faint scent of dog and a fainter scent of man.  Men had the best smells. Sometimes when she was out and about, she would catch a whiff of someone wearing the same cologne Scott had worn or the same shampoo, and that little bit of aroma would take her back in a flash to happier times. Definitely better ones.

He swiped his fingers through his hair, then took a band dangling from the gear shift and pulled it back into a ponytail. She'd never been a fan of long hair on men, but it worked for this one. After drying his hands the best he could on his wet shirt, he extended the right one. “I'm Elliot Ross.”

The introduction reminded her how out of character this was for her. Meeting a man for dinner, even if it was at Sonic, without learning his name first was something the before-Scott Fia would have done, certainly not something widowed, struggling Fia should do.
But now you know his name, and it's a nice one.
Not too common, not too unusual, masculine without sounding too macho.

“And yours is?” His brows rose, and so did the corners of his mouth. She liked a good-natured man. Angst was nice to read about in a novel, and it worked fine for some of her besties and the men in their lives, but Fia was happy with balance, good humor, and well-adjustedness. She tried to be that way herself. It made life easier.

“Fia Thomas,” she said, and after an instant, she took his hand. Shaking hands was such a common, ordinary thing. She'd done it a thousand times, and nine-hundred-ninety-five of them had been brief, impersonal, barely worth classifying as contact. But on a few rare occasions, there had been more: a charge, a spark, the recognition of the potential that this person could actually rock her world, good or bad.

Elliot's palm was warm, the skin toughened from years of work. It was twice the size of hers, and it gave her that spark, that warning, that he could shake things up. Trouble was, things were already shaky. Any more shaking, and she could end up like the woman in the old commercial, knocked on her ass and unable to get up.

Though he showed no sign of letting go, when she tugged, he released her hand. She clasped both hands in her lap with an internal sigh of relief, feeling…safer that way.

What had happened to the days when being safe was the last thing on her mind?

“You don't have the typical Oklahoma accent,” he remarked.

“I'm from Florida.”

“What brought you to Tallgrass?”

“My husband, Scott, was in the Army.” The air between them changed, a flutter of discomfort, or maybe disappointment, accompanied by his quick glance at her bare left hand.  Good. She appreciated a man who cared whether the object of his flirtation was married. “I was here when he deployed to Afghanistan, and I stayed here when he died.”

Elliot's expression turned solemn, his eyes somehow going even darker, his mouth flattening. “I'm sorry.”

She'd heard those words a thousand times—said them ten thousand—with little real meaning.
I'm sorry I was late, I'm sorry I missed dinner, I'm sorry to bother you.
But there was genuine emotion in his voice—not just sympathy but empathy, too. It wasn't something he automatically parroted but something he actually felt.

She couldn't bring herself to offer the other bland, automatic response—
Thank you
—so she forced a small smile instead. “What about you? You don't sound like a native, either.”

“I'm from West Texas.”

Instantly an image of him in Wranglers, cowboy boots, and a Stetson formed in her mind. It warmed her enough inside to require the unzipping of her slicker. “And what brings you to Tallgrass?”

“The highway and my trusty steed.” He patted the dashboard with a grin before shrugging. “I'm just looking for a place that feels like home.”

“West Texas doesn't anymore?”

A distant look came into his eyes, resisting the casual smile he offered. “Nah. I've been gone too long, and the town where I grew up pretty much shriveled up and blew away. My folks moved to Arizona, my sister to New Mexico, and me…like I said, I'm looking.”

“I get that. I was looking for a while, too.” For most of her life, she'd been on her own, except for those too-short years with Scott. Absent father, disinterested mother, no family to help her get along…It had made her strong, but damn, that strength had come at a price. There was a part of her that would give it all up in exchange for a normal life, good health, and a man who would protect and keep her safe. She knew what it was like to be fierce and independent. Sometimes, just for a change, she wanted to be pampered and coddled.

Elliot's dark gaze fixed on her, searching, before he asked, “You find what you needed here?”

There was such intensity in his eyes that it seemed almost physical, warming her face, sliding along her skin, tying a knot in her gut. She had to shrug out of the slicker to slow the heat burning through her, had to clear her throat before she could answer, and when she did, the words came out husky. “Yeah. I did.” What she needed, what she wanted, and the hope that maybe, someday, what she only dreamed about.

Movement blurred on the sidewalk, a carhop on skates rolling their way. Elliot's gaze didn't waver, though, not until it softened, not until he quietly, with some satisfaction, said, “Good. That's good.”

Elliot liked women. All women. He didn't have a type, no preference in hair color, physical characteristics, sometimes not even personality: He had great memories of a few women who would have driven him crazy if they'd stayed together one minute longer. Women were the best idea God had ever had, soft and funny and smart and difficult and beautiful and sexy and aggravating and intriguing and frustrating and so incredibly sweet.

Fia Thomas—he wondered if that was short for Sofia—was making a great start on being all those things. He wouldn't be surprised if he drove away from her tonight with one of what Emily called his serious casual crushes. He always fell a little bit in love with the women he dated. It never lasted long, and he was okay with that, since he wasn't eager to get his heart broken. He'd volunteered for a lot of dangerous things in his life, but heartache wasn't one of them.

He paid for their dinner, brushing away the five bucks Fia produced from one of her slicker pockets. Handing her a paper bag and a drink, he grinned. “You can buy next time.” Since he would be in Tallgrass awhile, he might as well make sure she had a reason to see him again.

“That sounds fair.” She unpacked her bag: fries on the dash, hamburger staying warm in foil, ketchup squirted from plastic packets onto an edge of French-fry packaging. “It can even be home-cooked as long as it doesn't have to be my cooking.”

“Hey, you provide the kitchen, I can do the cooking. I like to cook.”

She studied him a moment before licking a dab of ketchup from her fingertip. “I like a man who knows his way around a kitchen,” she said at last.

If she would lick her finger like that again, all innocent and tempting and unself-conscious, he'd gladly do the shopping, the prep, the cooking, the serving, and the cleanup for the best gourmet meal she'd ever had—and breakfast to follow.

Mouse climbed into Elliot's seat as he unwrapped his burger, breaking the tension that surrounded him, making it easier for him to draw a breath. When he tore off a bite, she took it delicately from his fingers, chewed it carefully, then set her butt on the console, and waited, quivering, for the next.

“How long have you had her?” Fia asked around a mouthful of her own burger.

He gave the dog an affectionate nudge with his elbow. “Two days.”

“Is she a rescue?”

He didn't need to study Mouse to see what Fia saw: scrawny body, ribs showing through her skin, old injuries to her legs and torso. “Yeah. Some kids were playing soccer with her. She was the ball.” He flexed his hand again, taking satisfaction in the aches there—and greater satisfaction that the teenagers were in a lot more pain than either him or Mouse.

“Poor baby. Lucky you and your trusty steed rode to her rescue.” She smiled, softening the lines and the thinness of her face. Mouse wasn't the only one who needed a few pounds to fill her out. Though her T-shirt and shorts were loose-fitting, Fia looked as if she hadn't found much interest in food lately. Grieving a husband who'd died so young could do that to a woman.

He thought briefly of Scott Thomas, wishing him peace, respecting his sacrifice. Not every service member saw combat, but every one who signed up during wartime knew it was a serious possibility, and they were willing to accept that. Elliot had been lucky enough to come home, as tough and determined as when he'd left, thanks to his parents, Emily, and his own stubborn determination.

He'd lost a lot of people he'd loved, though, and a lot he'd hardly known. He was glad to be out of it, to be home in the United States, but if the Army needed him to go back, he would.
Live for something rather than die for nothing,
General George S. Patton Jr. had said, a fine sentiment, but Elliot preferred to switch it around:
Die for something rather than live for nothing.

There had always been passions in his life, so he'd never had to settle for nothing. He never would.

“What kept you in Tallgrass after your husband passed?” He softened the words with a smile. “Remember, I'm looking for a place that feels like home.”

She pinched off a piece of her hamburger, including a generous hunk of meat, and offered it to Mouse. The dog hesitated, glanced at Elliot, and he nudged her with his elbow to let her know it was okay. She took it in her mouth, then retreated to the backseat to eat it.

“Well, there was nothing in Florida to go back to. And Oklahoma has the best people. All my friends are here.” Fia paused long enough to dip a tater tot in ketchup, then studied it a moment before adding, “Though all of them are transplants except Bennie and Patricia. They're all Army wives. Army widows. They're my family.”

He understood the value of family, both the one a person was born into and the one they picked for themselves. He stayed in close contact with his parents and Emily; he talked with his nieces and nephew every week; he'd attended the last two family reunions and felt like a better person for it.

Holding what was left of her burger in one hand, she gestured toward Mouse. “Can she have . . .”

“Sure. I don't want her to get used to people food, but right now, I figure she needs all the calories she can get. She's been hungry too long.”

Finishing off his own sandwich, he watched her feed Mouse one bite at a time. When she was done, she crumpled the wrapper, then swiped one hand through her hair. It was brown like his, just a few shades darker, and shorter than his by inches. Even with the dampness in the air, it lay smooth, framing her delicate face and, at first glance, making her look dangerously young. At second glance, though, it was clear she'd passed legal age a good while back. He would guess she was in her mid-twenties, maybe a year or two younger.

At first glance, second, and third, she was beautiful in a fragile, innocent way, though he knew appearances could be deceiving. She might rouse his protective instincts—most women did—but physically she was strong, evidenced by impressive biceps and triceps and long solid muscles in her thighs and calves. Emotionally, she was probably pretty strong, too. Being an Army wife wasn't for the faint of heart.

Despite losing her husband, her smile came quick and easy and found its way from her mouth into her dark eyes. It was something to behold, that smile. “I've never met a pit bull before. She's sweet.”

“The breed's gotten a bad rap. Worst damage I ever suffered from a dog was from a miniature poodle with pink bows on her ears. I've still got the scars on my ankle.” He moved as if to pull up his jeans leg to show her, earning a laugh from her that was so damn appealing, it made him laugh, too.

Just think, if Mouse hadn't needed to take a leak, he wouldn't have been standing in that parking lot in the pouring rain, he wouldn't have been holding an umbrella for the pup, and he wouldn't have met Fia.

Damned if he didn't owe the dog a T-bone.

A Hero to Come Home To

A Man to Hold On To

A Love to Call Her Own

“A Family for Christmas” in
A Christmas to Remember

A Promise of Forever

“Heartbreaking and heartwarming…Pappano blends a realistic vision of returning soldiers with a tender love story.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“A good military romance with strong characters that will truly touch your heart.”

—HarlequinJunkie.com

“A heartfelt read…With beautifully honest storytelling, Pappano expresses the vulnerable hearts of Ben and Avi.”

—
RT Book Reviews

 

“Deeply satisfying…Pappano's characters are achingly real and flawed, and readers will commiserate with and root for the couple…This deeply moving tale will remind everyone who reads it of the great sacrifices made by those who serve and the families they leave behind.”

—
Publishers Weekly
(starred review)

“A solid, tender plot, well-developed, vulnerable characters and smart, modern banter are the highlights of this heartwarming story.”

—
RT Book Reviews

 

“4 1/2 stars! Through her beautiful storytelling, Pappano deftly expresses the emotions that come with love and loss. The genuine love that grows between Therese and Keegan melts the heart. Pappano's latest packs a powerful punch.”

—
RT Book Reviews

“A powerful and welcome return to Tallgrass…Pappano excels at depicting deep emotion . . . including plenty of humor.”

—
Publishers Weekly
(starred review)

 

“Pappano shines in this poignant tale of love, loss, and learning to love again…[She] creates achingly real characters whose struggles will bring readers to tears.”

—
Publishers Weekly
(starred review)

“Pappano's latest is a touching story about loss, love, and acceptance. Tender to the core, her story is filled with heartwarming characters who you can't help but fall in love with, and she tells their stories candidly and poignantly. The ending will simply melt your heart.”

—
RT Book Reviews

“A wonderful romance with real-life, real-time issues…[Pappano] writes with substance and does an excellent job of bringing the characters to life.”

—HarlequinJunkie.com

“Poignant and engaging…Authentic details of army life and battle experience will glue readers to the page.”

—
Library Journal