Thankful Hearts

By Evelyn Aster

Desire surged throughout his body. He moved his hands up beneath her business jacket and along her back, untucking her blouse and itching to undo her bra, but he'd save that for later. Her hands slid up his chest and underneath his leather jacket. He was so into her body beneath his hands and her scent in his nose that he'd forgotten about his gun. Her fingers ran into the tip of the holster, and her whole body froze.

He released her lips and body and stepped back. Her eyes were wide, but he couldn't really read her expression. They stared at each other in silence, which seemed to make the situation worse. He felt guilty and inexplicably scared for her. She was up in the mountains with a total stranger who had a gun. He fumbled over his words, trying to ease her fears. “I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have brought it. I wasn't expecting--” he broke off his sentence realizing anything he said might be taken the wrong way.

She stared at him a long moment and then finished his sentence. “For me to throw myself at you?”

He expelled his breath and combed his fingers through his hair. This woman couldn't be for real. “I've got no complaints, but you're up here with a complete stranger who's carrying a gun he didn't tell you about. I appreciate that you're not screaming your head off.”

She rolled her lips together. The moonlight showed a vulnerability in her eyes, but her words were spoken with confidence. “I assume you're waiting to kill me until after we've had sex, but the sex will make you forget your evil plan.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evelyn Aster
• Release date: Nov 5, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310550614

Evelyn Aster

Evelyn Aster writes romance for grown-ass women. She loves heroines who make mistakes and have real problems just like her. Mostly, she lives, writes, drinks coffee and eats chocolate in Albuquerque, NM. She's managed to avoid being a meth dealer so far.

Book preview

1| Apple Pie Latte with a Shot of Toffee

Hudson wasn't exactly a coffee shop kinda guy. He drank coffee black without any froufrou shit in it like steamed milk or pure cane sugar. Staring at the Holiday Cafe from his motorcycle, he figured there was a fifty/fifty chance a simple cup of coffee wasn't on the menu. A scarecrow sticking out of a bale of hay greeted customers as they entered, and pumpkins lined the walkway. A cornucopia painted on the glass door had whipped cream laced with caramel spilling out of it.

Whatever. He was here to stalk, and stalking had to be akin to sniping: hide out where the prey goes and wait for fucking ever. At least the tables inside would be far better than any rock he'd hidden behind in Afghanistan.

He removed his helmet and hung it from the handlebar. As he walked up to the door he told himself to drop the stalker attitude. That was army; this was civilian. He wasn't being creepy—not really. He just didn't have anyplace better to go.

He opened the door, and the smell of the top five cups of coffee he'd ever had blended together and wafted up his nose. Damn, maybe the trip had been worth it just for this.

After taking a deep breath he approached the counter, where a young skinny woman in a pilgrim dress and bonnet said, What may I get thou?

He smiled and relaxed his shoulders by a millimeter. She had to be the one named Chloe. He'd been warned that she sometimes wore costumes. He started to order a cup of joe and then remembered what he'd sworn to try if he ever came here. He pulled out his phone and opened the notes he'd taken. Uh, I'd like an Apple Pie Latte with a shot of toffee syrup.

Chloe raised her eyebrows and stared at him. Really?

Yeah, is that weird? His pulse quickened, but years of training made it easy to stifle.

No, I just only have one other customer who orders it with the shot of toffee.

His face burned. He'd already given himself away. He'd checked his phone for the name of it and everything. Get a grip. She wasn't going to blow his head off. Might as well try to get info at this point. Is it Stacy?

Yeah! You know her?

Sort of. She told me if I was ever in town to try it. That sounded normal.

Good timing 'cause we just started making it again after Halloween.

Yeah, she kept a countdown to it in her messages to me. It was the same day I got discharged.

Oh, how cool. I'll make it perfect just for you.

He paid for the drink and sat down at a counter that ran perpendicular to the cash register counter. There were a couple of people sitting there with their laptops and phones plugged in. He set his phone on the counter so he wouldn't appear too out of place.

Taking in the rest of the cafe, he saw a gas fire burning in the fireplace at the back of the room. A couple cuddled on the couch next to it, making him clench his jaw and look away. The warmth made him want to take his leather jacket off, but he'd holstered his revolver under his arm. His motel was not a place to leave firearms, and this wasn't a place to flash one. He should've just left his gun at home, but he'd felt buck naked without one when they'd discharged him.

He noted how Chloe assessed him out of the corner of her eye. Maybe he'd hook up with her if things didn't work out with Stacy. Hmmm, maybe not. He got a weird vibe from her like she was appraising the goods rather than appreciating them.

The cafe had a tall ceiling and a loft on one side. Stacy could be up there. He checked the time on his phone and decided that 5:05 was a little too early to be here after work unless her bank was close by. He clicked on the Words with Friends app. Sweet. He had a message from her posted a couple of hours ago along with her word: turgid. His cock hardened as if the word was a suggestion. All her words did that to him these days. There was no doubt that he needed a good fucking. Her tiny icon made it hard to see what she really looked like other than an attractive businesswoman.

Chloe slid a whipped cream topped, caramel laced concoction in front of him, and he said, So have you seen Stacy here recently?

I usually see her on Fridays, but if it's a bad week, I'll see her today.

It was Thursday. He didn't want to wish a shit week on anyone, but he couldn't help but hope she'd show up. He hadn't had the balls to tell her he was coming to town. He clicked on her message. I didn't expect a play from you while you caught up with your girlfriend. I hope everything's okay.

He set the phone on the counter and took a sip of the latte, prepared for a sickeningly sweet experience. He paused and then drew more of the amazing liquid into his mouth. It was Grandma's apple pie with an edge. He set it on the counter and made a fist with his empty hand. This was supposed to have been the best Thanksgiving ever, after years of Army food in a desert where he might be shot before dinner was finished.

He dove down into the darkness of self-pity but jumped out when the door opened behind him.

Hey, Stacy! called Chloe.

He turned to see. Oh, fuck. He didn't even try to slow his pulse. She wasn't supermodel gorgeous or anything like that, but she was perfect. Her long brown hair fell in waves down to her shoulders. She had a heart-shaped face with ruby lips that didn't appear to have lipstick. She strutted to the counter with a sassy sway in her hips covered by a business skirt; she smiled, though her eyes appeared tired.

Rough week? asked Chloe.

It's November. She stated it as if it were a full explanation before continuing, Work was okay, but my sisters are in an uproar that I'm insisting on hosting Thanksgiving this year. Won't you please, please give me the recipe for the Holiday Cafe pecan pie?

Hudson was fascinated by seeing a woman in person he'd only exchanged texts with. He wished she would look his way, but he had no idea what he'd say.

Chloe held up her hands. I told you, I don't have the authority to do that. Just buy one. She didn't seem angry, just a little exasperated.

I can't buy anything. Grandma's coming. She reached into her purse and pulled out a business card. Give this to whoever can give me the recipe...I'm willing to pay.

Chloe took the card, tucked it into her skirt pocket and said, You have a visitor.

The muscles in Hudson’s neck tightened when he realized he was about to be introduced. She was even hotter than he'd allowed himself to imagine.

Oh, really? I wasn't planning on meeting anyone today.

Chloe nodded her head towards Hudson. He fumbled to stand up and meet Stacy's gaze. The shocked expression on her face brought all the stalker thoughts back. He should've told her he was coming. Hell, he should've asked before coming or just not come at all.

And then she smiled. Hudson?

He must've nodded because she embraced him. Just like that. Like they were actual friends and not just casual acquaintances from an Internet game. His hands wrapped around her waist, but he kept a space between them so she didn't feel how hard he was for her. She smelled like money with a hint of flowers. He pulled away and sat down before he gave into the urge to grip her against his body.

You should've told me you were coming! God, I can't believe it. Chloe, this is that soldier I was telling you about, my Words with Friends friend.

He was all sorts of happy and scared that she'd told someone about him.

Chloe said, I thought you might be that guy. Even before you told me your discharge date was the same as the release of the Apple Pie Latte, your haircut gave you away.

He grinned, still reeling from the warm welcome. I'm sure I'll be this way the rest of my life. I get twitchy if my hair gets below my ears.

Stacy put a hand over her mouth. But if you're here--

He knew his face reddened. He didn't want to talk about that. But there was probably no way around it.

Chloe asked, The usual, Stacy?

Oh, yeah. She lifted her purse and started to search through it, but Hudson put his hand over hers—soft and warm.

I'll get it, he said and pulled away his hand. He took out a ten spot from his wallet and slid it across the counter. Keep the change.

Thanks! said Chloe, snatching up the bill.

Stacy took a seat next to him. His pulse raced, letting him know he still lived and hadn't died and gone to the Heaven of Welcome Home Soldier. He should've come straight here to start. I'm sorry I didn't let you know. I wasn't exactly sure where I'd end up. I hit the road on my motorcycle, and then here I was.

I'm glad to finally meet you, but I know you were looking forward to seeing your girlfriend. I hope she didn't notice our game and get jealous. I mean, you were the one who started it, but it was all play.

I'm the one who started it? It was you. Cool, he could delay the story with a mock argument.

I used the word cock meaning rooster. You're the one who sent the first dirty word after that.

You don't send a soldier the word cock and expect him to think of rooster. You started it.

They grinned at each other, and she tilted her head down and gazed up at him through thick lashes. She was the perfect sort of woman to make him forget not just the broken relationship but the war. Chloe slid the latte to her and walked away. Stacy said, Would you like to sit on the couch by the fireplace? It's more comfortable.

He looked over to see that the cuddling couple had left. He nodded, thinking he'd prefer a couch at her place, but he was getting way ahead of himself. He should just be glad she hadn't run away. He followed her over to the couch, watching her ass more than where he was going. Maybe the breakup had been for the best if he wanted a new woman so soon. Or maybe Stacy was just that incredible. Or maybe it'd been too long since he'd fucked.

She sat in the corner of the couch by the fire, leaving him either the middle section close to her or the end section far from her. He decided to sit at the far edge of the middle section so he wouldn't crowd her, but they could talk comfortably. She set her latte on the coffee table, and he took another sip before setting his next to hers.

Do you like it? Or is it far too girly for a soldier?

Don't tell my platoon, but I think it's awesome. It's like my grandma's apple pie.

I know, right? My grandma always laced caramel across the crust. So good.

She should just bring it with her for Thanksgiving.

She was just about to take a sip of her latte, but she put it back down on the table and said, No, that was my other grandma who made the apple pie—the stereotypical grandma who baked pies and sewed quilts. She died a few years ago.

He automatically took her hand from her lap and held it. I'm sorry.

She seemed startled but then wrapped her fingers around his. Thanks. The grandma who's coming to Thanksgiving makes me feel like I never do anything right. But I just bought a home, and I want to show her I'm a competent adult and not a kid who breaks the dishes whenever I try to help with dinner.

I'm afraid I can't help much with recipes. I haven't cooked in nine years.

That's okay. I have all the Internet at my disposal if it comes to that. She paused but looked at their hands together instead of at him. He was moving way too fast, but it was a relief to give into something when he spent all day trying to keep sudden noises from taking him back to the war. He needed some relief.

She said, So since you're here and holding my hand, I have to know what happened. What are you expecting from me?

She caught him mid-sip. He set the mug down and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Why do you think I'm expecting something from you?

You drove all the way out here for a reason. I have no idea what you think of me based on the words we've exchanged. I still can't believe you're sitting next to me. I'm just trying to figure out if you think of me as a sure thing or a shoulder to cry on.

He should probably drop her hand and ease away, but he found himself holding her hand a little tighter. He leaned his elbow on the back of the couch and propped his face on his fist. She was unlike any woman he'd ever met. A real ‘put your cards on the table’ kind of person. Would it surprise you to know that I think of you as a possible friend? Going home was a disaster. You just gave me a warmer welcome than anyone in Austin. And, yeah, since you mentioned it, the possibility of getting laid had crossed my mind, but you were by no means a sure thing.

She seemed to size up the situation for a moment, leaned her elbow on the couch too and said, So what happened?

He took a deep breath in preparation. He knew on the scale of breakups that his was shitty, but the betrayal was worse than not being with Claire. Telling someone about it might make him feel differently. So I arrived at the airport after an ungodly long flight, ready to see Claire for the first time since forever. And there she was, with my brother Colton.

Stacy's eyes widened. I hope this isn't going where I think it is.

He pressed on, wanting to tell the story fast. She gave me the quickest hug ever, like a split second, and no kiss. Not even a peck on the cheek. My brother gave me a longer hug and went on and on about how he was so glad I'd made it through the war safely, like all the way to the baggage carousel. I kept trying to get Claire to talk to me or even make eye contact, but she wouldn't look at me. And then in the car Colton told me. They were getting married. Claire didn't even say one word. She let Colton do all the talking. He gave a big sigh. It was out. Done. He shivered as if still feeling the backdraft of Claire's coldness, but his heart had no warmth for her anymore.

Stacy tightened her grip on his hand. His blood surged for her, and he remembered all the messages she'd sent him for the past year. No way, they just dumped it on you like that?

I don't know how they could've done it better, but they sure as hell couldn't have done it worse.

So what did you do?

I had no idea what to do or say. I just sat there like an idiot. When we got to my parents’ house, I stayed for dinner, pretty much ignoring Colton and Claire, and then took off on my bike with my carry-on. When I ended up here, I figured even if you told me to get the hell away from you it'd at least be understandable.

To his surprise, she leaned in with her face only inches from his. I'm not going to do that. I'm afraid soldiers are a weak spot of mine. You spent all that time serving our country, so I'll have to buy you dinner at least.

He brushed a stray hair away from her eye and tucked it behind her ear. Kissing her now would be too fast given that they were pretty much strangers, but she didn't seem to be holding back.

And then her phone rang.

2| Welcome Interruption

Stacy pulled away from Hudson, relief mixing with annoyance at the phone ringing in her purse. She shouldn't be throwing herself at this crazy hot soldier. But it'd been a long day of her sisters calling with reason after reason why she shouldn't host Thanksgiving. She'd walked into the cafe mentally battered and was greeted by a man she'd come to think of as a friend. Hard to believe they'd never met in person before.

She loved everything from his crew cut blond hair to his slim frame. His arms felt strong around her like they could hold a woman tightly in the throes of passion. And he smelled like leather and musk—an intoxicating mix.

He'd appeared so hesitant, almost scared like she'd call the cops on him for showing up. But now his body seemed relaxed while his eyes seemed hungry for any sort of compassion she could offer. Her face burned as she fumbled for her phone, thinking of how ready she was to jump into bed with him. His messages on the game had often been funny and smart. There were a few about his job—mainly the tedium of waiting for a target, but sometimes how emotionally exhausting it was. Those tugged at her heart, and she found herself worrying when there were long gaps between his plays. She never knew if he was out of range or dead. As the months went by, she'd wished he didn't have a girlfriend to come home to.

Thank God he was very much alive. She needed to pull herself together. She wanted him to have a modicum of respect for her. Acting like a desperate contender on The Bachelor was no way to earn it.

She finally got her phone. Lorraine, as she'd expected. Sorry, she said to Hudson. It's my older sister's turn to yell at me. Before he replied, she clicked the phone on. Hey.

Kara said you're still being stubborn. You just moved; you still need new carpet and new paint. Just let us have Thanksgiving at the club, and Grandma can send the food back to the cook and let him deal with it.

She turned away from Hudson and tried to say in a low voice, Thanksgiving at the club is not Thanksgiving. I want it at my new house. It's important to me.

But you didn't know Grandma was coming when you invited everyone Monday. We don't care that you bought a dump, but she will.

Stacy wanted to throw the phone into the fireplace, but instead she gripped it harder against her ear. Just because my place isn't in Four Hills doesn't make it a dump. If you don't want to come to my house on Thanksgiving, fine. I'll make a turkey for myself and drink all the wine. She clicked the phone off and held her breath. What a stupid fight to be having in front of someone just home from war. The phone rang again, but she turned the ringer off and put it back into her purse.

She turned to Hudson, half expecting him to have left, but he sat with his brow pulled together in concern. She cleared her throat and said, Sorry about that. It must've sounded ridiculous.

He took her hand in his again. So sweet. She'd had a more stoic vision of him with wry humor tossed in here and there. He was much more sincere than she'd pictured. He said, Not ridiculous at all. I've been looking forward to Thanksgiving at home for months now. I don't know why, but it's my favorite holiday.

Stacy gaped. It's mine too. She didn't want the moment on the couch to end. It was like he already knew the paths to her heart without even trying.

Really? he asked. Seems like most people prefer Christmas. How come we don't?

Maybe because it's a family get together without the demands of finding the perfect present for everyone.

He tilted his head and thought for a minute. I think you're right. I hate Christmas shopping, but I love when the whole family gets together. His face fell in a frown, and he turned away from her, releasing her hand and leaning his back against the couch with his eyes closed.

Stacy sat still. The talk of family must've been too much for him, considering what his brother had done. The cafe had filled as the sun had set. The lighting cast a cozy glow to compliment the dusk outside, and the smell of designer coffee made the whole place feel comfortable and easy. Customers without tables stood staring at them, hoping they'd relinquish the couch to someone else. She took a slow sip of her latte and allowed the perfect liquid apple pie to ease down her throat.

After she set the drink back on the table she turned to Hudson and said, If Thanksgiving gets horrible, you're welcome to come back and share my wine and turkey. We can make a toast to annoying families.

He grinned and opened his eyes. Sounds great, but why is it then that we want so much to get everyone together?

Maybe it’s an attempt to recapture our childhood?

She hadn't noticed how much like the deep blue sea his eyes were until that moment. He stared at her with a thoughtful sorrow, taking her breath away. She had little idea what his war experience was other than he'd been a sniper. Her fascination and often horror with the war on terror kept her reading news article after news article, but it seemed she was the only one. It had to be hard for him in so many ways to come back home.

He said, I think you're right. There's nothing quite like the time before you realize maybe your mother drinks too much and your grandparents hate each other. Thanksgiving was a time when everyone faked it, at least in my family. I guess if I go home, I'll have to fake it too.

How long do you think you'll be in Albuquerque? Stacy didn't really want to know the answer. She'd prefer some indefinite time like she was on vacation and didn't care what day of the week it was. But she also didn't want to waste time being coy if he was leaving Sunday, not that she'd managed any sort of shyness yet. She was experiencing an epic drought between boyfriends, and she’d been flirting with Hudson over the Internet for most of the year.

I have no idea how long I'll be here, he said, giving her the perfect answer. He sat up and took a drink of his latte as she did the same.

When they'd set their cups back on the table she asked, So what do you think of Albuquerque?

A little too deserty like Afghanistan, but the mountains are awesome. I'll have to hike 'em while I'm here.

She knew he was talking about the Sandia Mountains that had loomed over her throughout her life like some