A Soldier's Promise [The Armstrong Brothers of Cedar Creek 3] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) Read online

  The door to her room was unlocked and he walked right in. Not saying a word, he picked her up, carried her to the bathroom, and placed her in the tub, underwear and all. He started some fresh warm water and found some bath salts, adding the whole bottle. Once the tub was full, he grabbed the rag and stared washing her back. She just sat there with her arms wrapped around her knees and quietly sobbed.

  Mason found a large cup and poured the warm water over her head. Once the majority of the tomatoes were off her, he handed her the shampoo.

  “You know, it isn’t so bad anymore, the smell that is. It’s fading,” he said, trying assuring her.

  “I reek.” She sobbed into her hands. “What about Andrew? What am I going to do?”

  “Look, if it’s all right with you, I’ll call my brother back. He and his wife have a big ranch with horses and cattle. They also have two kids. Andrew can stay with them while you figure things out and get this place livable again,” Mason offered.

  “I can’t do that. Andrew won’t be able to stay with some stranger.”

  “Are you kidding me? What boy wouldn’t like staying on a real cattle ranch, with real cowboys and all the horses he could ride?”

  “You don’t understand. Andrew is autistic. He doesn’t like change.”

  “So, and I can be a bastard. We all have our quirks. You should meet the rest of my family. Compared to them, Andrew is the sanest one of the bunch.” Mason smiled.

  “I just don’t know. What if he has a meltdown and I’m not there? He can be a handful sometimes.”

  “Show me a kid who ain’t and I’ll sell you beachfront property in the desert,” Mason joked. Looking at her red-rimmed eyes, he felt his heart break. Something about this woman was pulling hard at his gut. “So, can I make the call?”

  “If Andrew is okay with it, I guess I can handle it.”

  “Andrew!” Mason bellowed loudly, standing in the doorway.

  The sounds of running feet barreling down through the debris of the house had Annabelle smiling. “I call him and he quietly walks, you call him and it’s like a herd of elephants.”

  “Boys will be boys.” Mason grinned.

  “Yes, sir.” The kid in question stopped right before running into him.

  “Hey, you wanna go stay the night at a real live cowboy ranch?”

  “Really!”

  “Yep, all ya gotta do is tell your ma that’s what you want.”

  “Can I?” he asked, bright-eyed and eager.

  “Yes. But you will do as you’re told, understand?”

  “Okay!” he shouted. “I’ll go get my things. Yahoo!” he yelled, jumping and running toward his room.

  “It’s yeehaw!” Mason corrected, and instantly the yahoos turned to yeehaws, making him chuckle. “Well, now that that is settled. You wash your hair and I’ll go get you something to wear.”

  * * * *

  Once again she did as she was told.

  Annabelle didn’t have the energy to fight reality anymore. She figured if she just did what she was told, he would leave soon, taking Andrew with him to his brother’s. He returned minutes later with a bathrobe for her and helped her out of the tub. Once she was in the robe, he picked her up, and instead of carrying her to bed, he walked out the front door and put her in her truck.

  “What are you doing?” she asked through her sobs.

  “You can’t stay here. You can stay at my place.” And with that he shut the door before she could reply. She watched as Andrew climbed in with his overnight bag and quickly fastened his seatbelt. He did not say a single word the whole trip, and neither did she.

  After dropping Andrew off with Rachael and Michael Armstrong, she slumped in the front seat and silently wept. Everything she had planned had gone to hell with that damn skunk. Her beautiful little home looked like a war zone. What money she had managed to save was going to have to go to home repairs, and that was not including the cleaning bill and whatever she had to replace. The bills kept piling up, and just when she thought she was ahead, the ceiling fell and she was back at square one. She was exhausted. Tired of fighting a losing battle, she gave into her own self-pity and let it consume her.

  * * * *

  Mason could not believe that any woman could cry this much. She just would not stop. Stepping on the gas, he figured the quicker he got her to his place, the sooner she would shut up.

  Boy, was he wrong.

  The moment he walked in with her, her sobs picked up. Rolling his eyes, he could not take it any longer. He put her on her feet right there in the middle of his living room, walked into the kitchen, and grabbed a beer. Drinking half of it in one swig, he returned to find her standing in the very spot he placed her.

  Son of a bitch. What’s it gonna take for her to shut the hell up?

  “Beer?” he asked, trying to get her attention off today’s catastrophe.

  She sobbed quietly, shaking her head.

  Fuck!

  “Buttercup, you have to stop doing that,” he said rather harshly.

  She looked at him and her sobs increased.

  “If you don’t stop, I…I… Just stop!” he said, turning away from her. This was getting out of hand. No woman can cry this much. Mason did not know what to do. How in the hell do you shut them up? Reaching for his phone, he headed back to the kitchen and called his brother.

  “Hello!” the laughing voice shouted.

  “Mitchell. How in the hell do you stop a woman from crying?”

  “Hey, Skunk Boy, how’s the tomato bath working?” Mitchell laughed.

  “How in the hell? Mikie has a big mouth.” He seethed, plotting his revenge. “How do you stop a woman from crying?” Mason asked.

  “What?”

  Mason did not think it was possible for his brother’s laughter to get louder, but it did.

  “You heard me, and stop laughing,” he ordered.

  “Whatcha do to her?” Mitchell asked.

  “Why do you automatically assume I did something?”

  “Because you’re an Armstrong.” His brother snickered.

  “Well, I didn’t do anything. How do you stop them? She won’t quit!”

  “Do what I do. Kiss ’em.”

  “Hell no! Think of something else. What do you do when Bridget cries?”

  “She doesn’t. I keep her happy.” Mitchell laughed, insinuating just how he kept his wife happy.

  “You know something, asshole, you’re living proof that evolution can go in reverse!” He shouted, hanging up on his brother’s laughter. Dialing Mark, he waited. After several rings, Mason snapped his phone shut. Getting rather annoyed at his family and the crying woman in his living room, Mason felt like running from his own home, screaming in retreat.

  It was not that she was a loud crier. She was not, and thank God for that. Those women drove him nuts. Nevertheless, Annabelle just stood there and quietly sobbed. He could barely hear her, but it was not her whimpers that got to him. It was her eyes, her beautiful brown eyes that shimmered with tears. He had never met anyone like her. She was quiet and reserved.

  In the short time since he met her, he knew she did not like being the center of attention, nor did she like being confronted by a brute, which even he could admit he was being. But watching her just stand there was more than he could take.

  She looked dejected and lost, like the weight of the world had just crumbled down around her as she silently wept for its loss.

  It was too much.

  Mason turned around and tried to get her sight out of his mind. However, everything he thought of vanished as her soft face came rushing forward. Turning back around, she still had not moved. When a gentle sob escaped her rosy lips, he lost it.

  Enough already!

  Mason charged back into the living room, and in one swift movement, he took her in his arms and kissed her.

  * * * *

  Annabelle had been kissed before, but never like this. Shocked and a little scared of the big man holding her, she did not kno
w what to think. His lips were soft and warm. His strong arms held her tightly to him as he tasted her. He took his time, and she marveled at how he nibbled his way across her lips, tasting every inch of her. He was gentle with her, not like before when he was demanding and harsh. The man before her now was different—almost caring.

  She had had one hell of a day, and now this just put the icing on the cake.

  She gave up.

  Surrendered.

  She did not care anymore. She just allowed herself to melt into him, as she relinquished what control she had left in her life and forgot about everything. The feeling of being safe and secure as he held her was unlike anything she had ever felt. For so long she only had Andrew to kiss and hug, but that was a mother’s prerogative. After her husband left, her world had refocused, and narrowed. She never had the time to be a woman. Yet, here in his strong arms, he made her feel special.

  God, he tastes good.

  Raising her hand slowly to his waist, she did not think of what she was doing. She knew if she did, her logical brain would override her spontaneous side, and she would put a stop to this. Not wanting to sever the feeling, she wrapped her arms around this man and gave in to him. She kissed him back.

  Mason could feel her giving up. Whatever wall she had built around her had fallen. Her sobs became less and less as he delved into her moist mouth. She may be a piece of work, but damn could this woman kiss. Her soft, plump lips were full and inviting. The tenderness of her touch was electrifying as he could feel her soft hands moving up toward his back. His hands started caressing her back, pushing her body closer to his.

  He was entranced with this ball of fury. She was wild and unyielding. He liked that she stood up to him. Very few people did when he got mad, but she did and she did not back down. She was courageous and could give just as well as she could take.

  She was lost in the moment, as his hands trailed fire down her body. It had been a long time since a man had touched her the way he was at this very moment. Her body grew hungry, craved more, and as if she could not help herself, she started to unbutton his shirt. She had to touch him, wanted to touch him. A driving need fueled her further.

  It had been so long since he had held a beautiful woman in his arms, and for a woman that got on every nerve in his body, she had lit a fire within him that he could not control. What was just going to be a simple kiss to shut her up had now turned into pure animal lust. Just when he thought about actually going through with this, reason interrupted. Mason slowly started to back away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

  Annabelle stood there with her perfectly manicured nails and slender fingers to her mouth. Her lips were swollen and ached for more. Staring at the large man before her, she wondered if he was just as shocked as she was. She really did not know what to make of that display, but one thing was damn sure, there was some deep longing in that intense kiss. “May I have a glass of water?” she whispered.

  Mason quickly jumped and swiftly removed himself from her presence. His hands were shaking as he grabbed a glass and filled it. Walking back into the living room, he found her sitting on the couch, waiting. He quickly placed the glass in front of her, turned, and left the room.

  Annabelle looked around her. She was in a virtual stranger’s house, with barely any clothes on, with a man who apparently could not get out of her presence quickly enough. Thinking back to the kiss, she knew it meant nothing to him. He was just trying to shut her up. Annabelle had to get her life back in order, because if all this drama continued, she would be better off back in New York, where she belonged. She was trying to make it work—God knows she was trying—but the cards seemed to be stacked against her.

  All she ever wanted was a quiet place where she could relax and raise her son. She wanted the peace and tranquility of a country life without the demands of the city. Yet when it was before her, all she seemed to do was make a bigger mess of things. It would have been so simple to listen to him when he had suggested to close the doors and windows, but the house was stifling, and she had ignored him, doing as she pleased. Now her little country home was in ruins, and she wasn’t so sure she was ever going to get that smell out.

  Her whole life, she had done what was required of her to survive. Her life may have not been all moonlight and roses, but she managed to muddle through. She never expected to live in an actual house, coming from the city. That was just a pipe dream. Moreover, as a hard-working mother with a special-needs child, she had learned rather quickly to lower her expectations. However, never in her wildest dreams did she think she would be doing it all by herself. She had watched her mother kill herself, working several jobs and neglecting her health to provide for her. Annabelle refused to allow that to happen to Andrew. If something happened to her, there was no one to care for her son. She had no other choice but to succeed. She just had to.

  Now she was out in the middle of nowhere, and she was learning that life was just not that simple. She would have to work and do for herself if she wanted anything.

  Looking around, she was in unfamiliar territory. How was she going to get out of this situation with her dignity and still be able to look the man in the eye? She needed him to help her fix the house, yet he apparently wanted nothing to do with her. Hell, he probably thought she was the biggest pain in the ass he had ever met.

  Annabelle kicked herself for not even realizing that the skunk was not a cat. She knew nothing of the animals in this area or how to talk to these people, let alone how to get something done without ordering it. She was going to have to rethink everything. That is, if she still wanted to stay, which at this moment she really did not know.

  Mason walked back into the living room, and found her still sitting on the couch with the same expression upon her face. He wanted to just walk over there and hold the woman, but he figured it was the last thing she wanted. He was never good with the emotional quiet types. He generally left those to his brothers, but since none of them were around, he was going to have to figure something out.

  As he moved close, the stench of the skunk still apparent, Mason, tried everything he could not to acknowledge that she desperately needed another bath. As he sat on the coffee table before her, he waited until she looked at him. Sitting there, he noticed that her hands were shaking, and he reached for them, covering her hands in his.

  She was cold.

  The warmth of his hands engulfed her. She looked up from her moment of uncertainty, into his deep blue eyes, and found herself swimming in the ocean of them. So intense, his eyes were like pools of hunger and strength. She was speechless.

  “Are you ready for another bath?” Mason asked softly.

  Annabelle smiled. She almost felt like laughing. Since this whole ordeal began, he was the first person to actually ask her if she wanted to do something. She wanted to cry…again.

  Seeing the emotion flooding her eyes, Mason sat back and gave her a warning look. “You’re not going to cry again, are you?”

  Annabelle smiled and chuckled a little. “No.”

  “All right then. Come on, let’s get you settled in a hot bath. I don’t have much, but you’re welcome to whatever I have.”

  “Thanks,” she mumbled.

  “Don’t thank me yet. I’m a bachelor. I may not have any clean towels.”

  Annabelle couldn’t help herself. She giggled. Following him to the bathroom, she stood quietly as he showed her where all the items were that she would need. She smiled when he managed to find her a clean towel and returned with a pair of shorts and T-shirt for her to wear. Taking the clothing, she grinned when he said, “They’re probably going to be too big for ya, but at least they are clean and don’t smell like skunk.”

  She watched as he looked around as if trying to find something, and when the silence became too much, he turned and left, closing the door behind him.

  Turning the hot water on in the tub, Annabelle took off her robe and slipped into the warm heat. Leaning her head back against the wall, she clos
ed her eyes and tried to let everything go.

  Chapter Three

  Mason felt like he was suffocating. He knew it was all in his mind, and he was making more out of it than he should, but he had never had anyone stay with him. Private and a social recluse, Mason couldn’t stand sharing space with anyone since he had returned from his last mission. Quickly thinking of something else, he rummaged through his linen closet, trying to find the sheets that Rachael had bought for him last month.

  He needed to get the couch ready. He hoped she would be comfortable on the sofa. She sure was small enough to fit on it. Shit, maybe I should put her in my bed, he thought, then quickly dismissed the thought. Then where would I sleep?

  Grabbing a couple of blankets and an extra pillow, he threw them on the couch and stepped back. Looking quickly around his house, he couldn’t think of anything else she would need. Rubbing his hands against his jeans, he walked into the kitchen, grabbed another beer, and sat at his table to wait for her.

  He wondered how long she would be in the tub. Getting up he paced the kitchen floor, drinking his beer. He hoped she was okay in there. Maybe she needed something. Maybe he should go ask. She didn’t know where anything was. Shit, he should have just asked Rachael to let her stay with her. She was good with people. She knew how to make them feel comfortable. Why didn’t he just give her to Rachael?

  Mason knew he had limitations, and social anxiety was one of them. Since he had retired from the military, his anxiety in social settings had progressively gotten worse. He was fine with his family, but it was the other people, people he didn’t know, that made him nervous. Though he had just met the young woman and agreed to work on her home, he couldn’t find his footing with her. She made him feel things that were foreign to him. He didn’t understand it, and he sure as shit didn’t like it.

  In addition, what was up with that kiss? He wasn’t ready to think about that yet. He still couldn’t believe he had done that. He had probably scared the poor woman to death. He was never the smooth talker like Mitchell, or the pretty boy like Mark and Matthew. He was not smart like Michael, and he sure as hell couldn’t boil water without burning the house down. Nope, he was just a simple soldier who took orders and got the job done.