And he was an idiot.
“I thought we were just having fun,” he lied. “It was a stupid bet. I figured you’d sober up and have the marriage annulled.” So I left you sleeping, saving myself from watching you realize that you were legally bound to a combat-addicted nutcase. Because I couldn’t stand to watch that newborn love drain from your eyes, not then, and not three or ten or seventy days later when you finally realized what you’d done.
“A marriage prompted by a roulette spin is still a marriage.”
Carl snorted at his elbow, drawing Tara’s hostile stare.
“You laughing at my legally sworn union, GI Joe? You think it’s funny that your good-for-nothing friend up and left me in the marital bed? So help me, I’ll wipe that smug smile off your face if you so much as—”
“Whoa, calm down.” Chance took a step toward his erstwhile bride, nodding at Carl to proceed without him. His fellow NCO shot him a look that promised he’d be watching from inside, then pushed through the door of the bar.
“Calm down,” Tara echoed mockingly. Her arms were crossed so tightly he feared for the blood supply to her fingers. “Reunited with his wife after ten months and what does he say? Calm down, like I’m some overexcited filly.”
Chance frowned, sweeping his gaze from her feet to her face and back again, trying to collect his thoughts and put the facts in a row. Tara was here. She’d clearly worked hard to find him. And she was pissed. Why?
“Are you pregnant?”
“Not unless you’re in the habit of poking holes in your own condoms.”
“How do I know you aren’t?”
Dark eyes narrowed. “Jesus, I hope they don’t put you in charge of counting how many bullets are left. What did I just say? Ten months. If you’d knocked me up back in December I’d be rocking the proof to sleep by now.”
“What took you so long, then?”
“Beg pardon?”
“Like you said, ten months since our wedding. Fort Preston’s only a couple hours’ drive from Kansas City. Why’d you wait almost a year?”
“I didn’t think my car would manage the drive to Afghanistan.”
“I’ve been back for six months.”
Her jaw slackened, offering the barest flash of soft tongue, moist pink mouth. His groin twitched unhelpfully.
“What?”
“You heard me. I got back in April.”
“The hell you did. You said it was a nine-month deployment.”
“And in December I was on R&R, halfway through.”
Her shocked silence gave his mind the space it needed to produce a new, deeply cynical thought. It was his turn to cross his arms over his chest.
“I know why you’re here. You think you’re going to collect my combat pay while I’m gone.”
She blinked. “Combat pay?”
“You read it in the paper,” he accused, confidence bolstered by landing on what he was sure could be the only explanation for this high-spirited woman to go to all this trouble to find his sorry ass. “You saw the obituary for Alpha Company’s medic, knew the 13th Infantry would need someone from another company to replace him mid-tour and you figured I’d raise my hand. Well, I’ve got news for you, girl, I’ve still got a month left before I deploy so if you were hoping to catch me off-guard at the last minute, you failed.”
A Fourth of July parade’s worth of emotions marched across Tara’s face. Surprise, bewilderment, contemplation, annoyance, then back to tight fury. She reached him in five scurrying strides and got in three hard swats on his arm before he managed to pivot out of range.
“What the hell kind of a fool volunteers to go back to the warzone he just left?” she demanded, homegrown Arkansas accent thicker than ever. “Have you got a death wish? Or are you that crazy that six months of peace and prosperity has already given you an itchy trigger finger?”
“Pretty much,” he replied honestly.
“Lord, give me strength,” Tara muttered, swiping her palm over her eyes. When she met his eyes again hers were hard with resolve. “It’s not ideal, but a month is better than a week. We’ll make it work.”
“Make what work?”
“This marriage, Chance. Maybe you’re in the habit of swearing wedding vows you have no intention to keep, but I’m not. I don’t want your combat pay or your car or whatever other raggedy-ass belongings you consider assets. I came here to give this relationship a shot, and I’m not leaving until I’m convinced one way or the other.”
On impulse Chance opened his mouth to protest, then closed it without a word.
Tara Lambert had roared back into his life unannounced, unanticipated, full of demands and accusations, riding a motive about as plausible as a dragon. He had four weeks to go before shipping back out to the sandbox and she wanted to spend them getting to know each other, trying to transform their wild wedding weekend into an actual, real-life marriage. Impossible. Ridiculous. The dumbest thing he’d heard in a long time, and a career in the military meant he heard a lot of dumb shit.
But he didn’t hate the idea. In fact he was mildly flattered that she’d worked so hard to reconnect with him, and was willing to give up so much to see if their two-night stand could be something more.
And she looked so good. Even scowling and rigid, she was the prettiest woman ever to give him the time of day.
Nothing about you has changed since you left her in that hotel, his conscience reminded him sternly. You’re still a violence-hungry freak who can only sit still when he’s sighting in a gun. You’ll never stop leaving her. She’ll say goodbye at civilian airports, in hangars full of soldiers, at the side of your flag-draped coffin. You’ll destroy her, and if you reckon you won’t you’re an even bigger fool than she thinks.
Chance set his back teeth. He deserved this. He left her in that hotel room like a coward—now he had to face the consequences. Now she’d come back to remind him exactly what he was missing, exactly what he couldn’t hold on to. Then it would be her turn to leave.
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “All right, then. I’ll lean inside to tell Carl I’m leaving, then you can show me where you’re parked.”
Her eyes widened with hope. Inwardly he cringed.
