LITMIR.BIZ

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to, what, his sense of duty?

       Patriotism? Pride?

       Loyalty to the gunnery sergeant who’d sent her here? Why would the man standing here, or any man for that matter, marry her so she could join the Marine Corps? He’d have to be loony.

       And while this might be debatable she hoped he wasn’t that crazy. Just crazy enough to say yes.

       He continued to scrutinize her. “The only reason you’d need a husband to enlist would be that you’re a single mom.”

       Was that common knowledge to everyone except her? She hadn’t realized it, walking into the recruiting office with her high ideal of providing a better life for her son.

       Just thinking of Ryder bolstered her determination.

       “He’s two. Almost two and a half. His birthday is in May.” She flashed a cell phone picture of her son in his Halloween costume. Dressed like Yoda from Star Wars. He had her red hair and green eyes. “His name is Ryder.”

       Seeing the man’s lack of interest in her digitized family album, she tucked her phone away with a sinking feeling. If pictures of Ryder didn’t tug at his heartstrings, he had no strings to tug.

       “How old are you?” His focus narrowed. He was about to judge her the way most people did—too young and too irresponsible to be a good parent. Well, she was a good parent.

       “None of your business.”

       “You just made it my business.”

       Crossing her arms, she tilted her chin. “Twenty.”

       He cursed under his breath. “How old do you think I am?”

       Hard to say. Beneath all that hair he could be in his late twenties or early forties, or any age in between. “Old enough,” she ventured.

       “I need a kid even less than I need a wife.”

       Angela got the distinct impression he wasn’t talking about her son. The man pivoted and started walking away again. She tossed the knotted rag in the general direction of the car and ran to keep up.

       “You’ll never have to see me again, I promise. Except for the divorce. And that could be anytime after boot camp. Say a year from now—”

       “Not going to happen.”

       She really needed for this to happen. “Hatch, please. Please.” How pathetic was she, begging the man to marry her? But right now, saving her pride was secondary to gaining his help. While the military didn’t allow single parents to enlist, they did allow parents to serve if they became single after enlisting. “I’m not asking for a lifetime commitment.”

       All she wanted was a piece of paper.

       “What part of no don’t you understand?”

       Even with her long legs she had a hard time keeping up with him in his determination to get away from her. “You haven’t said no yet.”

       He stopped so abruptly she stumbled into him, a solid wall of stubbornness. The look he conveyed over his shoulder told her she was pressing more than just his firm backside.

       “I was aiming for the O in No. Do I have to spell it out? Consider that my answer for everything.”

       “Oh.” But that shouldn’t count. He’d shot at the sign before he knew her question.

       They’d reached the end of a tree-lined drive. Before her sat a two-story farmhouse. White or gray—she couldn’t be sure, glancing at the peeling paint. Darker gray shutters hung crookedly beside cracked and broken windows.

       Did anyone actually live here?

       Out buildings, including stables and a barn, divided the sizable clearing into a working ranch compound. But “run to the ground” didn’t begin to describe it. It was as desolate as the late-autumn landscape. “How big is your ranch?”

       “Six hundred and fifty acres. What’s left of it, anyway.”

       That sounded big. It looked big enough to her. But something was missing. “Where is everybody?”

       “I’m it.” He headed toward an extended-cab Ford F-150 parked beneath an ancient cottonwood tree. The shiny black pickup appeared out of place in the empty yard.

       “What about cows?”

       “Cattle,” he corrected. “What about ’em?”

       “Where are they? And horses?”

       “All gone. Any more questions?” he asked, lowering the Ford’s tailgate and setting his rifle inside.

       “Just one.” Angela nodded toward the skinned carcass, headless and hanging upside down from the tree, hidden from earlier view by the truck. “What’s that?”

       “Know anything about field dressing a deer?”

       “No,” she admitted.

       “Too bad.” He unfolded a leather pouch, uncovering a hacksaw and a row of very sharp, very lethal looking knives. “Had my heart set on a gal who could field dress a fresh kill.”

       The knives, the discarded hooves, the bucket of bloody entrails, the stained rubber gloves—they weren’t making her queasy. Or even the severed head of a buck staring at her from the truck bed with glassy eyes.

       Really, they weren’t.

       She’d known going into this that she had only one thing a man might want in exchange for a marriage certificate. And just the thought made her want to hurl all over his work boots.

      HATCH CAUGHT HER before she hit the ground.

       After laying her out across the tailgate, he used his jacket to pillow her head, shaking his. City girl.

      Girl being the operative word here. She was little more than a kid out of high school.

       Seeing the world though a high-powered scope tended to put things in perspective. He’d felt her apprehension even at a distance. Had assumed a couple warning shots would scare her off. But she was either a whole lot dumber or a whole lot more determined than he’d first given her credit for.

       Leaning into the truck bed, he pulled the tarp over his other doe-eyed trophy and waited for the living, breathing one to come around. Long lashes fluttered against the kind of dark smudges that resulted from too many sleepless nights.

       She opened her green eyes wide. “Am I still in one piece?”

       “What do you think?”

       “I’m trying not to think.” She glanced toward the tarp-covered buck and sat up.

       “Hold on.” He tossed off his shooting glove and rolled up his shirtsleeve to fish the icy waters of his beer cooler for a can of cola. He switched hands and passed it to her, shaking the feeling back into his cold, wet one.

       “Thank you.” Her bangs fell forward onto one flushed cheek and she tucked them behind her ear. At least her color was returning.

       Peaches and cream.

       An honest to goodness redhead, not the drugstore kind.

       Even without the ponytail and smattering of freckles she’d look like jailbait. She wasn’t old enough to have a drink with him, yet she’d driven the interstate to marry him.

       As a teen mom she’d had all the responsibilities and none of the privileges of adulthood. Twenty still wasn’t old enough to know what she wanted in life, let alone marriage.

       The Marine Corps? Marriage without commitment?

       To a guy she didn’t even know? And wouldn’t care to know under normal circumstances.

       What the hell was she thinking?

       What the hell was Calhoun thinking? For the life of him, Hatch couldn’t

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