Her Last Best Fling. Candace Havens

your mom when I first arrived. I had to get a lawn mower and other gardening tools.”

      He chuckled.

      She served up the bowls of stew. “Your mother found me frowning as I checked out the lawn mowers. She dug around in her pockets and handed me a card that had the number of a teenager who does yards. Her exact words were, ‘He’s a good kid. For four acres it’ll be about a hundred dollars a week. If he tries to charge you more, tell him I’ll knock him upside the head.’”

      Blake laughed. “Yep, that’s my mom.”

      “I loved her. She was one of the few people who was genuinely kind to me. I’d heard Texans are a friendly bunch. And, okay, everyone has been nice to my face. But I get the strangest looks. And as I mentioned earlier, they haven’t been exactly welcoming.”

      He carried both of the bowls to the other end of the counter where there were stools and place settings. “Like I said earlier, soon someone will move to town and then you’ll be one of the gang. Just give them more time.”

      She smiled. “My friend Cherie told me the same thing. I’m not sure why it bothers me so much. I never knew any of my neighbors when I lived in New York, Paris or anywhere in the Middle East. Most of the time I lived out of hotels.”

      At the mention of hotels, his jaw tightened. She’d read what she could find on him, and knew that he’d been in Africa when he sustained his injuries. He was protecting a visiting American ambassador there. He and most of his men were hit by enemy fire, but they’d saved the ambassador and other dignitaries that day. The soldiers had earned Purple Hearts.

      “Don’t be too worried about it,” he interrupted her thoughts. “Small-town life isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be. Eventually, you feel like a part of the community when everyone knows your name. It can be a wonderful thing, or a curse.” His eyebrow rose.

      “A curse?” It hadn’t been that bad.

      “Oh, yes. And especially if a certain high school girl’s dad finds you in the barn with her, um, counting hay straws. He calls your dad, who gives you the I’m-disappointed look in front of the entire town when he finds you later at Lucky Chicken Burger sharing a box with your friends.” He looked to the heavens. “People still talk about how he watched as my mom dragged me out by my ear. One of the most embarrassing days of my life.”

      She nearly sputtered her stew, she laughed so hard. “I can’t imagine your mother doing that. She talks so highly of you. She’s so proud.”

      “Now she is. That day, not so much. I was grounded for six weeks after that and wasn’t allowed to go on dates alone with a girl until I left for college. If we didn’t go in a group, I wasn’t given permission to go. I had to write letters of apology to the girl, her parents, my parents and our minister.”

      He shook his head as she started to laugh again. “Sure, it sounds funny, but back then—my friends and my brother never let me forget it. I ran away to college so fast, it was no joke. Joined the marines to help pay for my bachelors and MBA.

      “I was determined I would never come back to this place, but I’m a mama’s boy. I probably shouldn’t admit that. I missed her and dad so much by the end of that first semester, I hitched a thousand miles to get home by Christmas Eve. Of course, my mom read me the riot act because I could have been killed on the road.”

      “Still, I bet she was glad to see you.”

      He nodded. “It wasn’t long after that my dad got sick. So I was grateful we had that Christmas together.”

      A chunk of carrot caught in her throat as she watched the memories pass across his face. There’d been a deep family love there. She envied him that. He grew silent.

      She swallowed and had a drink of tea. “My parents traveled a lot for their jobs. We didn’t get to have many holidays together. I kind of envy you that.”

      “What did they do?”

      “Journalists. My mom wrote for magazines, my dad was on air for different TV affiliates.”

      “Are they still at it?”

      Macy bit her lip. “No. They were killed in a small-plane crash on their way to report on a new orphanage in India. Happened about eight years ago. Uncle Todd was my last living relative. It’s just me now.”

      Blake frowned. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up such painful memories.”

      She patted his arm. Her fingers tingled from the contact. “You didn’t. We were talking about family. I just wish I had what you had and have with your mom. I believe the world would be a better place if more parents were like yours.

      “I’m lucky that I have great friends all over the world. They helped me when I lost my parents. I was doing an internship in Bosnia with a newspaper and the military guys I’d been following arranged for me to get a flight home on one of their transports. One of them even flew with me and stayed until Uncle Todd could get to the base. I never forgot that. Kevin Donaldson was his name. He had two kids and a wife who adored him. Anytime I was stateside, they insisted on me coming to visit.

      “Wow. Look at me telling you my whole life story. Who is interviewing whom, here? I never talk to anyone like this.”

      He winked at her. “It’s the green tea. Has mystical properties in it.”

      They both laughed.

      “Do you want another bowl?”

      “Sure. The stew is good. I miss home cooking.”

      She handed him another full bowl and shoved the plate of French bread at him so he could reach it. “I—I did some digging. As I mentioned, I’ve covered the military for years for various assignments. I know you can’t tell me exactly what happened, although I do know about the ambassador. That’s a matter of public record. And that you guys saved him and the others who were investigating the ammunitions camp someone had discovered in the Congo.”

      “You have done your research.” His voice was guarded again.

      “I don’t want to ask you anything I know you can’t answer. What I would like to know is how it happened. Several of your men were hit, but luckily everyone survived.”

      He sat his spoon in the bowl and stared down at it.

      “Some were luckier than others,” he whispered.

      Her brow furrowed. “Do you mean the injuries?”

      “Yes, and the nightmares. Some of us are having a tough time letting go what happened there.”

      “What did happen?”

      His deep brown gaze cut to her. “You know I can’t give you details.”

      She sighed. “Was it an ambush? From what I’ve figured out so far, you guys had a peaceful week there until you were getting ready to leave. Then all hell broke loose.”

      As if Harley had sensed the tension, she nudged between them and put her head on his thigh.

      He sucked in a breath.

      “Is she hurting you?”

      “No. It’s just sore, like a bruise. Mind you, her head is like a ton of bricks.”

      “It is very large. She accidentally bumped my nose earlier with her head when I put food in her bowl, and I thought for sure I’d have black eyes.”

      He smiled, but it was weak.

      Stupid. As professional as she was, it bothered her to realize she’d triggered such old memories—hurtful ones from the look of concern on his face.

      That was it. He wasn’t just a hero. He was a man. That would be her story. No one needed to read about his nightmares of that terrible day, or the darkness that clearly haunted him. How often had she told that story? Heroes deserved to be recognized, but maybe she could focus on who they were after they came home, rather than