Make Mine a Ranger (Special Ops: Homefront Book 4) (10 page)

Opening the bedroom door, she was greeted
by an exuberant hug from Abby. “Come on, come on!” she said, taking Bess by the
hand and dragging her down the stairs. “Mac and cheese,” she shouted as she
raced out the door to Tyler’s car, with the same enthusiasm as she might have
if Bess had just told her they were headed to Disneyworld.

Maybe Bess should really cook Abby more
“kid food” than she did. Roasted vegetable ratatouille and beef bourguignon might
be a hit with Tyler in this house, but perhaps her daughter should have the
chance to experience mac and cheese from time to time.

Bess and Tyler were quiet on the ride
over, the air already filled with Abby’s excited chatter which ranged in topics
from mac and cheese to fairies to unicorns. For a child who took longer than
most to finally say her first word a while back, Abby was definitely making up
for lost time.

Edith was standing at the doorway waiting
for them when they arrived, greeting them both with hugs before taking Abby’s
hand. “Ready for a slumber party?” Edith asked.

“Slumber party!” Abby responded with
glee.

“Oh, no,” Bess said quickly. “We’ll just
pick her up after dinner.”

Edith gave a dismissive wave. “Oh, that
makes no sense. I have everything she’ll need.”

“Slumber party! Slumber party!” Abby
chanted exuberantly.

Tyler’s eyes were as wide as Bess’s.
“It’s no trouble to pick her up. Thanks, though.”

“Noooo…” Abby moaned.

Edith shook her head. “It’s so much
easier on me if you just pick her up in the morning. That way I can go to sleep
at the same time Abby does.”

“Please, Mama,” Abby begged.

Bess felt her palms sweating. “Uh, okay. I
guess. You’re sure you have everything you’ll need?” Bess asked over the
delighted squeals from her daughter.

“Dear, she sleeps here all the time during
her naps. It’s no different.” She ushered Abby into her home. “Now you two go
have a nice evening,” she said, giving a brush of her hand in the air as if to
shoo them on their way.

Bess sat back down in the car, watching
the smile of the woman waving to them from the doorway. When Tyler turned his
head to look behind him as he pulled out, Bess could have sworn Edith sent her a
wink.

She was doing this on purpose, Bess was suddenly
ready to wager. The only question was whether she had come up with the plan on
her own, or had received a call from Lacey or Maeve.

“She’s sure good to have around,” Tyler
said, a hint of awkwardness in his tone.

“Yeah, she’s a godsend.” She swallowed—hard—wondering
how the hell it would feel sleeping in the same house with Tyler without a
three-year-old chaperone.

***

Horizons on the Chesapeake was just
outside downtown Annapolis, where the South River opened into the Bay. The
massive structure used to be a boatyard that was nearly washed away when
Hurricane Isabel hit the region over a decade ago. The decrepit building remained
overlooked until about a year ago when it was bought, gutted, and restored to
its former glory, housing a restaurant that opened to rave reviews.

Inside was a magnificent view of the
Chesapeake from its dining room, and a smattering of antique furnishings that preserved
Annapolis’s maritime culture.

The entire region was buzzing about it,
it seemed to Tyler, from all the articles that he had found on the web about it.
Apparently, Annapolis was a town that relished its history and when a lost
relic like an old boatyard was restored, it was sufficient cause to celebrate.

It was, as Tyler had predicted,
completely packed.

“Looks like there’s a wait,” Bess noted.
“Why don’t we just go to a pub or something? There’s always a seat at
O’Toole’s.”

No, Tyler thought. O’Tooles was a place
he’d go with Bess as a friend.

He’d given himself this one night to figure
out if there was something between them or not. With a decent guy like Connor
waiting in the wings, it wouldn’t be fair to string Bess along. And he sure as
hell was more comfortable with the idea of Connor in Bess and Abby’s life than
some of the other gym rats that were probably scoping out Bess.

“I made a reservation,” he said, lightly
touching Bess’s back as he guided her forward, and gave his name to the
hostess. She led them to a table for two set alongside a floor-to-ceiling
window. The table was candlelit, with a flame flickering inside a hand-blown
glass votive holder. White tablecloths set the tone for a more formal
environment than the Annapolis norm, yet the rustic antiques scattered
throughout the dining room seemed to lend a balance to the room, making it more
comfortable and less stark than it might have been.

Tyler quickly pulled Bess’s chair out for
her as she sat—something, he’d admit, he generally forgot to do with
women. He wasn’t exactly raised in a highbrow kind of world in his little
hometown in upstate New York. But a guy can pick up a few gentlemanly tricks
after being stationed in Savannah, a city that oozes southern charm.

“How did you manage a reservation here on
such short notice?” Bess asked.

“I read on the
Post
website that
the guy who restored this place was former Special Ops. While you were upstairs
changing, I thought I’d take my chances and give him a call—tell him I’m
a Ranger and see if he’d take pity on me.” He looked out the window at the
view. “Guess it worked. This view is phenomenal.”

The hostess handed them their menus. Certainly
not the plastic-covered kind that they would have encountered at O’Toole’s. In
fact, the top of the menu was personalized with their names. “Welcome, Bess and
Tyler,” it read on the thick paper stock set inside a cloth-covered folder.

Impressive. He’d never seen that before,
which might say something about the kind of places where he usually hung out.
And it was definitely not the kind of place he would have expected to be opened
up by a former Green Beret and his wife.

As Bess stared down at her menu, Tyler
drank in her image. She was beautiful—seriously gorgeous—in the
candlelight. The light reflected on her red curls, just bright enough that
Tyler could still make out the adorable freckles that were scattered from her
cheeks to her ears.

“So,” Tyler began, feeling fifty shades
of awkward ogling a woman he had thought of for so long as sort of a
sister-like, off-limits friend, and mother of a child he adored.

There was nothing motherly or sisterly
about the way that dress fit her, hugging her breasts so tight, yet without
looking like she was putting it all on display. How could something be so sexy
and modest at the same time? It made his mind wander to that morning when he
had seen her, soaking wet in a white t-shirt.

Damn
. They hadn’t even ordered drinks yet and he was already
sporting a quarter-chub.

“Do you want a bottle of wine?” he
finally asked.

“A glass will be more than enough for
me.”

He’d never admit it, but he was grateful
to hear that. He hated wine, much preferring a beer straight out of the bottle.
Glancing around, he hoped this wasn’t the kind of place that poured beer into a
glass. Spotting a beer bottle sitting lone on a nearby table, he heaved a sigh
of relief. Of course. This was Annapolis. Beer in a glass was sacrilege here.

“All right,” he said, reading the menu. “How
about some appetizers to start?”

“No. I really don’t need an appetizer.”

He could tell she was holding back.

“I know you don’t
need
. But do you
want
?” He smiled. “Besides, I’m ordering some. It’s not exactly the kind
of place I go to often, so I’m living it up. How about calamari? And these
lobster and shrimp rolls sound good.” He glanced up at her from his menu. “But
you’re the chef. You’d know what to order better than me.”

Bess bit her lip, and gazed down at the
menu. “Well, I’ve never seen parmesan encrusted snapper listed as an appetizer
before. I’d love to taste that.”

“Perfect,” Tyler responded. “I definitely
brought the right person here. I’ll enjoy it a lot more with you than anyone
else.”

The look she sent him was questioning,
and he could imagine why. Just don’t ask, he wanted to tell her.
I have no
clue what I’m doing right now.

A man in a tailored suit came to their
table, rather than the waitress Tyler was expecting.

“1
^st
Ranger Battalion?” the
man asked.

Tyler nodded.

“Twelve years in 7
^th
Group.”
The man extended his hand.

Tyler grinned, happy for the distraction
from Bess in that dress, and shook his hand. “Tyler Griffon. You must be Major
Kincaid, Sir.”

“I’m just Lewis now,” the man laughed.

“Good to meet you, Sir,” Tyler replied,
still feeling the urge to address him properly. Rangers were more formal, and
Tyler still wore their cultural trappings, even though he might be living in a
Navy town for the moment. “This is Bess Foster,” he said, giving a nod to Bess,
uncertain how exactly to define her. Fortunately there was no need.

“Ms. Foster,” he said, greeting her.

“Bess, please,” she smiled at him.

“Thanks so much for squeezing us in
tonight,” Tyler said. “This has to be the best table in the place.”

“Anything for fellow Special Ops. Are you
still out of Savannah?”

“No, they sent me to the 704
^th
MI Brigade to work on some issues we’re facing.”

“I’ll bet. We’re facing plenty, aren’t
we? How long are you here for?”

“A year at most. Depends on how things
evolve. You know the deal.”

Lewis nodded. “I remember it well. Don’t
make plans too far in the future.”

“Do you miss being in the action?”

“Not a damn bit. Pardon my language,
Ma’am,” he directed to Bess. “My wife is pregnant with our second child right
now. That’s all the action I can take.”

“Congratulations,” Bess exclaimed. “How
old is your first child?”

“She’s three in December. My wife wanted
kids exactly three years apart, and it looks like she’s going to get exactly
what she wants.”

“My daughter’s three, too,” Bess said. “Is
she in preschool yet?”

“No, we’ll probably start that next
year.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his iPhone. “Now you’re gonna
have to indulge me. I’m a pretty proud dad.” He pulled up a few photos and
handed the phone over to Bess.

“Oh, she’s adorable. She has your eyes. I’m
a bad mom. I don’t have any pictures on me.”

“I do,” Tyler volunteered, pulling out
his phone. “This one’s my favorite. Abby at her last birthday. Check out the
frosting on her face.”

Lewis laughed. “So, obviously she loves
chocolate.”

“Actually, I’m thinking she would have
preferred vanilla, seeing as the frosting ended up
on
her rather than
in
her.” Tyler took back his phone. “So, a restaurant? How’d you end up doing
that?”

“Actually, my idea was to fix this place
up and just sell it. I used to work on houses when I was in between missions. Restoring
them. Kind of a hobby of mine. But then when this place started looking good, I
teamed up with a couple partners and opened the restaurant.”

They talked a while longer, and Lewis
said he’d send over a couple extra appetizers he wanted Bess’s opinion on after
Tyler had volunteered her culinary expertise.

“And if you ever decide you want to work regularly
in a kitchen, I’d love to see what you can do. Just give me a call,” he said,
handing her a card.

“Thanks so much, Lewis. I really appreciate
that.” Her face was practically glowing as he walked away.

Tyler grinned. “See? I said you were destined
to be working in that industry. Apparently, I’m right.”

Self-consciously, Bess glanced down at
the table. “Oh, he just offered because you talked me up so much. I’m really
not as good as you say I am.”

Tyler shook his head. “You always
underestimate yourself. I’m telling you, if you opened a restaurant, people
would flock to it. The stuff you whip up is so—I don’t know—inventive.”

“Inventive. I like that. Thanks.”

“I’m serious. Those baked goods you’re
always sending in with me to work? You’ve already got a fan base at Meade from
it. And your dinners?” Tyler shook his head. “It’s no wonder I’m coming home
earlier from work than I ever have in my life.” Though looking at Bess now in
the candlelight, Tyler caught himself wondering if it was just the food he’d
been rushing home to all this time.

Bess smirked. “Anyone can cook with a
little practice.”

“You’re underselling yourself again. I’ve
seen you work in the kitchen and I never see you open a cookbook.”

“Oh, I do sometimes. But I guess even
then I do kind of like to put my own spin on things.”

“If you opened up a little place outside of
Hunter Army Airfield down south, you’d be making three meals a day for every Ranger
in the Battalion.”