His Girl Next Door: The Army Ranger's Return / New York's Finest Rebel / The Girl from Honeysuckle Farm

“He’s here,” she whispered. “He’s early.”

“You’ll be fine, okay? Put down the phone, close your eyes for a few seconds, then go to the door. Okay? Just say ‘okay.’”

“Okay.” Jessica thought her head might fall off she was nodding so hard.

She placed the phone down without saying goodbye.

He was here. Ryan was actually here.

Waiting outside her front door.

How could she know this man almost as intimately as she knew her best friend, yet be terrified of meeting him?

She looked at the letter on the table, reached for it, then tucked it into her jeans pocket. She didn’t need to open it to know what it said. She remembered every word he’d ever written to her.

Jessica squared her shoulders and shook her head to push away the fear. Ryan was here, waiting for her, and she had to be brave. It felt like she was about to meet a lover she was so nervous, but it made her feel queasy even thinking that way. One of her closest friends was standing at the door, and for some reason she was paralyzed with fear.

Bella had gotten her all wound up in knots, and for what? She wasn’t interested in meeting a man in that way, especially not now. And she didn’t want Ryan to be anything more to her, no matter what he looked like. What she needed in her life were good friends, and he had proven that he was there for her when she needed someone.

Another knock made her jump.

This was it. There was nowhere she could go but forward, down the hall.

Unless she escaped out the back window …

A flash of brown streaked past her and she groaned. Hercules. She’d put him out the back with a bone and hoped he’d stay there, but he must have squeezed through the doggie door when he’d heard the knock.

At least he’d be a good distraction.

Ryan wondered if it were possible for fingers to sweat. His were curled around the paper-wrapped stems of a bunch of white roses, clenching and unclenching as he tried to figure out what to do with them. Out in front seemed too contrived, behind his back looked ridiculous and hanging at his sides just seemed more ridiculous, like he was trying too hard. Why flowers? Why had he felt the need to complicate things by bringing flowers?

He was going insane. He’d survived the trauma and heartache of years serving his country, and now a stupid bunch of flowers was tying him in tight coils. He was a United States Army Ranger. Practised, strong and unflappable. He’d never have made the special ops unit with nerves like this.

Clearly he was losing his touch.

Perhaps he should throw them into the garden? He looked over his shoulder, beyond the porch, then listened as the door clicked and a small dog started barking.

He was out of time. Ryan slowly, cautiously turned back toward the house. He wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, walk back down the steps and start all over. Without the flowers dangling awkwardly from one hand, and instead standing at ease on the doorstep in front of her.

Ryan spun around as the door swished open.

“Jessica.”

He exhaled the word as if he’d been waiting a lifetime to say it. In a way he had.

Ryan was pleased he’d never asked her for a photograph. It couldn’t have done justice to the reality of her features. Hair the color of rain-drizzled sand was tucked behind her ears, eyes the shade of the richest dark chocolate peeked out beneath dark lashes. She smiled like she was greeting her first date—nervously, expectantly, unsurely.

Worried. Just like he was.

After so many months of writing one another, meeting in person was kind of surreal.

He went to move and something tiny hit him in the knees and almost made him fall. By the time he looked down a small dog was doing laps around his feet, before disappearing back into the house with as much speed as he’d arrived with.

Ryan laughed then looked back to the woman waiting to meet him.

“Jessica.” When he said it this time it made him smile naturally, rather than feeling like a word-stuck teenager. “It’s so good to finally meet you.”

She grinned as he walked toward her, then opened her arms to him.

“Ryan.”

Even the way she said his name did something to his insides, but he pushed past it. He was a soldier. He was trained to deal with difficult situations.

“I’m really glad you made it, Ryan.”

He let the flowers drop to the porch as he opened his own arms to hold her. Jessica stepped into his embrace as if she’d been made to fit there, firm against his chest, arms tight around him. She hugged him like someone who cared about him.

Like he hadn’t been hugged in a long time.

It had been years since his wife had died. Years since he’d felt the genuine embrace of a woman, one that wasn’t out of pity, but out of something deeper, warmer.

Ryan inhaled the scent of her—the tease of perfume that reminded him of coconuts on a beach. The soft caress of her hair that fell against his neck as she tucked into him.

It felt good. No … even better than good. It felt great.

He cleared his throat and stepped back, not wanting to make her uncomfortable by keeping hold of her too long. Jessica leapt back from him like a bear from a nest of hornets, her face alternating between happy and concerned.

“I …”

“We …”

They both laughed.

“You first,” he said.

Jessica grinned at him and rocked back and forth, arms crossed over her chest.

“I don’t remember what I was going to say!”

Ryan shook his head and laughed. Laughed like he thought he’d forgotten how to, cheeks aching as he watched her do the same.

He bent to collect the fallen flowers.

“These are for you.”

She blushed. When had he last seen a grown woman blush? It made a goofy smile play across his lips.

“Me?”