Boots on the Ground: Homefront, Book 1 Read Free Page B

yesterday—although now that he was standing up, she could see she’d definitely underestimated his size.
    “My car’s stuck on the side of the road with a flat tire, so I had to hike here in heels. What’s your excuse?”
    “Men like me don’t usually need one. But since you’re asking—” he turned to indicate two men perched on stools at a high table nearby, “—I’m reliving the glories of war with two of my former colleagues. Meet Captain Ethan Fletcher and Staff Sergeant Chance McKinley. Guys, this is Dr. Laurel Hayes, who so kindly signed off on my shoulder yesterday.”
    Laurel’s face must have shown her surprise to see an officer on a night out with two enlisted soldiers, because Ethan shot her a needlessly hostile glare that dared her to comment. She refrained, pushing her mouth into a warm smile.
    “Good thing he didn’t ask you to assess his personality.” Chance grinned. “I’m not sure those words would be appropriate for an official letter.”
    Grady made a big show of shifting his body to block Chance from her view. “Don’t mind him, he’s just not used to having a woman look at him and not scream. You know how in all those war movies there’s always one psycho soldier who puts all his comrades in danger to satisfy his own insane bloodlust? Well, Sergeant McKinley here—”
    “Outranks you, Reid,” Chance called, his lopsided smile bright and infectious. Even the sullen Captain Fletcher lifted one corner of his mouth.
    The bartender finally reappeared, a stack of empty glasses cradled in his arms.
    “Sorry, dishwasher got backed up. What was it you wanted again?” He clunked the glasses into a bin beneath the bar.
    “I’ve got it covered,” Grady offered, then turned back to her. “I’ll ride you out to your car and we’ll fix your flat together. Every woman should know how to change a tire.”
    She arched a brow at his cavalier suggestion, taking in his growing-out crew cut, five o’clock shadow and sleeves rolled up over sinewy forearms. She recalled the exquisitely defined contours of his chest, the smooth flex of muscle as she’d examined his shoulder, the fanned spread of dark hair that practically begged her fingers to follow its narrowing path down his stomach.
    Grady was huge, and he was strong, and he was practically a complete stranger. And he wanted her to get in his car to drive a mile out into the empty countryside in the dark. With no cell signal. Alone.
    She’d be crazy to agree—and yet her instinct urged her to do exactly that.
    She must not have concealed her inner debate as well as she hoped, because he nodded toward the two men at the table. “I could ask Chance to join us, if you want. He could use a few lessons in automotive repair.”
    Although Chance’s expression was hopeful, she shook her head. Her gut told her she could trust Grady—and her floozy heart wanted to get him alone, even if only for a few chaste, tire-changing minutes.
    Laurel followed him out to an old, weather-beaten Ford pickup in the parking lot. She held the filmy material of her dress out of the way as he slammed her door shut before heading around the front to the driver’s side. The area at her feet was strewn with maps, photocopied papers and ballpoint pens, there was a paint-splattered army ball cap shoved into the cup holder amid a handful of gas station receipts, and a half-empty bottle of root beer had rolled down to where the windscreen met the dashboard.
    There was something so old-fashioned and boyish about his choice of beverage that she couldn’t stop her smile as he climbed into the cab next to her. “Who still drinks root beer?”
    “Thirsty people. Now where’s your car?”
    She pointed the way out of the parking lot, and in less than five minutes he was flipping on the truck’s hazard lights and pulling in behind her disabled vehicle.
    “Nice ride,” he remarked. Laurel’s ears were wide open for a note of chiding that she couldn’t take care of her