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PART ONE - PROLOGUE
IT ALL STARTED WITH A WEDDING
It was one of those rare evenings in Texas. Gunner had no clue what that meant, but he’d heard it a half dozen times. Maybe it was the weather. Autumn was good here, in his opinion. The air was cool, but not enough to demand a jacket. Stars shone overhead, brilliant even with the competing light of the blue moon that marked the date.
The last of the season’s fireflies danced in the air, almost as if keeping time with the music. Once more, Heritage Ranch was decorated for a celebration—the wedding of Russell Walker to Naomie Taylor and Riggs Walker to Georgie Williams.
Gunner stood to one side of Riggs, honored to stand as best man, although less than keen on the collar that chafed his neck. It took months for him to grow accustomed to wearing jeans, and he still preferred fatigues and a t-shirt. Lucky for him, the Walkers didn’t care what he wore for work or on his time off. But this wasn’t either of those times.
This was special. He never thought he’d be standing beside Riggs, listening, and watching as Riggs promised himself to a woman. Till death do them part. That was big. And Riggs did it.
Gunner didn’t blame him. Georgie was an amazing woman. She’d overcome things that would have broken most people, and through it all, she held onto her humanity and compassion. It took a strong person to achieve that.
She was devoted to Riggs and the baby, Robby, Riggs had saved and adopted. In fact, she was smiling as much at Robby as Riggs right now. Riggs held him on his lap, fending off little hands that tried to snag each bite Riggs attempted to eat.
They made a nice family, and to his surprise, it caused Gunner to wonder what it would be like to have that kind of life. He shoved the thought aside. It brought no benefit to give it roost in his mind. He reminded himself that he’d accepted his fate. He didn’t deserve to have a life like that.
He failed when it mattered the most, and it cost him everything. There was little left but duty and now work. Being a ranch hand was hard work, but he’d always welcomed physical challenges and liked the job. Riggs swore he was born to be a cowboy.
Gunner didn’t know if that was true, but gave it a hundred percent of his effort. In his mind it didn’t make sense to do a half-ass job. Which meant, he ended up with little time for anything else. Most nights he was asleep by nine, which sounded early until he was faced with getting up at four am.
Life on the ranch started early. Gunner learned the routine and didn’t fight it. He’d learned a lot about cows and bulls, horses and even chickens. He now knew how to rope and brand, castrate, and help birth a breech calf.
And he’d discovered the best barbecue he’d ever tasted. The Honky Tonk Bar and Grill was where everyone in the county gathered to eat, have a few beers, visit with friends, listen to music or dance.
To his surprise, Gun received a lot of attention from the single women at the Honky Tonk Bar and Grille whenhe frequented it on the weekends for a few beers with the guys and a plate of barbecue.
That was one he couldn’t figure out. He sure didn’t look like a movie star, but that didn’t seem to matter. Everyone in Cotton Creek was friendly, ready to meet or make a friend. It was a very unusual place. At least to him. But he was trying to fit in.
Cheers went up when the DJ presented the brides and their grooms to the assembly, and the party moved into full swing. Gunner hurriedly removed his tie and crammed it in the pocket of his jacket. He unbuttoned his shirt as he headed for the buffet. A few minutes later, armed with a plate of food and a beer, he sat at one of the tables, and watched the people on the dance floor as he ate.
“Mind if we sit with you, Gun?”
Gunner recognized the voice and looked behind him to see Grady Judd, a fellow SEAL who owned a nearby ranch, with his wife Charli. Gunner mentally applauded Grady. Charli was a hell of a woman. An ex special forces officer, she now wore the suit of a deputy for local law enforcement, and damn if she didn’t make that uniform look good.
Charli was as decent and personable as she was beautiful and bad ass. Gunner liked her the first time they met. Tonight, she wore a form fitting dark blue dress that clung to her like a second skin. He wondered how Grady felt about the number of men who looked at Charli with more than a little lust.
With them was another woman, one that made Gunner’s lust-o-meter ping. Every bit as fit as Charli, and pretty much the same size, she was one smoking hot brunette. Her hair was pulled back from her face ina braid that brushed the middle of her back. Eyes the color of a Caribbean Sea sat in a face that could only be described as exotic. She reminded him a bit of Naomie, and he wondered what blend of ethnicities had produced such beauty. This night was definitely looking up.
“Pull up a chair,” he responded. Her eyes locked and stayed with his as he rose to pull out a seat for her.
“Well damn, Gun, you got manners since I last saw you,” Grady quipped, breaking the eye lock, but not the interest.
“Hell, he doesn’t need them,” the hot brunette quipped, with her gaze on Gunner. “You’re Gunner Hale, and I’m Oakley Rising Wolf.”
“Yes, I am, and not sure how you know that. What do I call you?”
“That’s yet to be decided,” she said as she sat. She looked up at him as he moved to his chair. “It’s not every day a gal meets a real-life hero.”
“You’re not talking about me.” Gunner liked the attention and the way she looked at him, but wasn’t about to take credit if it wasn’t due.
“No?” She gave him a look that anyone in service would read simply as “liar” once you strip away the colorful expletives .
“You don’t hold the record of most doors kicked down by a SEAL in the last decade?”
Gunner cut a look at Grady before answering. Of course. Grady was a genuinely decent man, and one of honor. Not to mention a hell of a fun guy. He probably thought he was giving Gunner good press. Nevertheless, he wasn’t fond of people trying to fix him up with women, using the “bad ass SEAL” thing.
The Navy. That’s what he said when asked what branch of the military he belonged to. What he did in service to his country was between him, his Commander, the United States Navy, and whatever held the universe together. He didn’t need advertising. He was well aware of who he was. And what. It wasn’t a secret, after all. He was big.
