The Soldier's Twin Surprise

Instead, he chose the sand. She appreciated the humble move. She hated it when men tried to push boundaries. And the fact that Bullet seemed a bit shy and cordial was a bit of a turn-on.

Who was she kidding? It was more than a little alluring.

She took a long, refreshing drink. It had taken her a while to get used to the taste of beer, but after some time in the Army, she’d come to enjoy it after a hard day in the field.

“Tell me something,” she said. “Honestly. Is Poncho really a cop?”

“Yep. In fact, he was just promoted to detective.”

“I suppose he looks more like an authority figure in his uniform.”

Bullet laughed. “I don’t blame you for being surprised. Poncho used to be the rowdy one who led me and Duck astray, but once he turned twenty-one, he shocked the entire town, if not the high school, by joining the Wexler Police Department.”

“And Duck?” she asked. “Is he in law enforcement, too?”

“No, he’d rather be a lawbreaker.”

“Seriously?”

Bullet chuckled. “Maybe back in our high school days, but not so much anymore. Actually, he’s a rodeo cowboy. And a good one.”

She tended to be skeptical by nature, especially of men she’d just met, but Duck had a soft Texas twang and a lanky, muscular build. Of course, looks could be deceiving. Yet something in Bullet’s eyes suggested he wasn’t giving her a line of bull.

“What about you?” she asked, more curious about Bullet than the others.

He didn’t answer right away, then offered her a charming smile that dimpled his lightly bristled cheeks and made him appear both rugged and boyish at the same time. “Let’s just say that I can outride, out rope and outshoot both of them.”

That surprised her, although she wasn’t sure why it would. And he’d admitted that he was a better cowboy than the others, which just might be true. At least he hadn’t bragged about the number of silver belt buckles he’d won in the rodeo.

Erica had pretty much outgrown the type of guys she’d known as a teenager back in Jeffersville. Nevertheless, she found Bullet far more attractive than she should.

“How long will you be in Hawaii?” Bullet asked. Erica wasn’t about to reveal too many personal details with a guy she’d just met, no matter how hunky he was or how trustworthy she thought he might be. But then again, she didn’t see any reason not to be somewhat honest. If she kept the story simple, he wouldn’t have enough information about her to find her again—if he turned out to be a jerk. He didn’t need to know that she was stationed in Honolulu for the time being.

“Actually,” she said, “I just flew in from Houston.” It was the truth, of course. And it supported her comment about having two days left of her vacation. But she’d actually just returned from bereavement leave.

Several weeks ago, she’d gotten an early-morning call from the Texas hospital where her parents had been taken after the accident. Her father had suffered a massive coronary while driving home from church. The car had crashed through a guardrail and rolled down an embankment. He was pronounced dead on arrival, and her mom died from her injuries a few hours later.

Erica sucked in a deep breath and slowly blew it out. It had been a long month, a sad and lonely one. She’d gone to Texas to bury the parents who’d adopted her.

But the worst was past. She had two days left of her leave before she had to report to duty at Schofield Barracks, so she’d rented the bungalow through Airbnb, where she hoped the warm sun, the soft tropical breeze and the sound of waves lapping on the sand would provide a healing balm.

She and Bullet sat there awhile, both caught up in their own thoughts. Or so it seemed.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

She could have told him anything at that point—Jennifer, Heather, Alexis. She’d heard that it was a game some women played. They’d create fake careers and backgrounds, too. But Erica wouldn’t go that far. Instead, since he and his friends referred to each other with nicknames, she’d offer him one, too. The one her twin sister had given her years ago. “My name is Rickie.”

He nodded, as if making a mental note, then took a chug of beer. Since he hadn’t offered up his real name, she didn’t ask. What was the point? She didn’t expect to see him after she checked out and returned to base.

It was weird, though. She hadn’t been called Rickie since the night Lainie had gone to the hospital for the surgery that failed. At the memory, at the thought of the final words they’d shared with each other, a pang of grief shot through her, reminding her that she’d lost her entire family. Two of them, in fact. Not many people could claim to be orphaned twice, but this time around, at twenty-five, it was a lot easier than when she and Lainie had been eight.

Under the circumstances, she probably should keep to herself tonight so she could dwell on her emotions and come up with a good game plan to face the future. Wasn’t that why she’d come to North Shore this weekend?

For someone determined to keep to herself, she couldn’t explain why she’d let herself be enticed by the hunky, football-playing tourists. Maybe it was some sort of coping mechanism preventing her from dealing with her own issues, her own sadness.

If she could distract herself with the antics of a trio of strangers reliving their glory days on the beach, then she wouldn’t be forced to think about her recent loss.

But she’d much rather laugh than cry. And these guys were playful and entertaining. Intriguing and handsome. Especially Bullet. Besides, she didn’t have to tell him that she was in the Army and actually lived nearby.

Why get so personal when, after Sunday morning, she’d never see him again?

Chapter Two (#u239a90b3-03ce-5c69-97b5-53212f266b5c)

By the time the sun went down, and a couple of automatic porch lights from the nearby beach house kicked on, Clay’s buddies had moved closer to the blonde and the redhead. But Clay was right where he wanted to be, sitting on the sand and enjoying a second cold beer with Rickie. Things seemed to have clicked between them, which was a little surprising.

He hadn’t planned to hook up with any women this week, but he also hadn’t expected Rickie to be so easy to talk to. She was a little on the quiet side, but she was bright. And her laugh, which he’d only heard a time or two, had a mesmerizing lilt.

Hey. The night was still young...

Of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t being realistic. She’d be returning to her life in Texas soon, and after he drove his buddies to the airport Sunday morning, he’d head back to Wheeler Army Airfield. Still, that left them thirty-six hours. More or less.

“Are you ready for another beer?” he asked.

She looked at her nearly empty bottle. “No, I think I’ll switch to soda—if you have any left.”

Clay got up, headed for the ice chest and retrieved two cans—one cola and a lemon-lime. Then he took a moment to walk to the grassy area near their beach house, where Duck had set up the small grill about fifteen minutes earlier. The coals were coming along okay.

He glanced over at his buddies. Duck, who’d just said something to make the redhead laugh, glanced up and caught Clay’s eye. Clay nodded at the grill, gave him the thumbs-up sign and returned to Rickie.

He offered her both cans. “Take your pick.”

She chose the cola. “Thanks.”

“We’ll be putting those dogs on the grill soon,” he said. “Are you getting hungry?”

“A little.” She scanned the beach, her gaze landing on the others, who’d moved over to the grassy area, near the grill and within the perimeter of light coming from the porch. “You know, even though I said I’d join you guys tonight, I’m not really in the mood for a party.”

Neither was Clay. In fact, he’d rather sit here all evening, enjoying what little time he and Rickie had left. “Why don’t I bring over a couple of hot dogs for us once they’re cooked?”

“That’d be nice. Thanks.” She made a little hole in the sand, one big enough to hold the bottom of her can. Once she set it down, she turned to him and blessed him with a pretty smile. “So what was it like growing up in Wexler?”

“I doubt it was much different from your neck of the woods. I lived on a ranch, though. So I had a lot of chores to do each day, plus a cow to milk and a couple of chickens to feed.”

“That’s cool. I never had any pets.”

Clay wouldn’t call an old milk cow or four harpy hens pets.

“Do you still live in Wexler?” she asked.