Chapter 13 #2
He slid her one of those I see you right through your baloney smiles.
“When we got engaged, she kept saying she couldn’t wait to see the world.
But when it came down to the wire, she didn’t want to go.
Likes being close to her family, doesn’t like being alone, and military life isn’t good for that. ”
“You miss her?”
He kept his gaze straight ahead as though the forest might give him the right answer. “I miss what I thought we had,” he finally said. “But I miss the idea of her more than I miss the reality of her.”
She had to stifle a snort. “Oh, sugar, been there.”
“You get married so you could keep moving?”
“Probably some of it,” she conceded.
“Still want to move?”
“No.”
“Give it another year.”
She understood his theory—wanderlust happened—but in the past year or so, especially with Ron following her here to Georgia, she’d begun to understand she hadn’t liked moving for the change in scenery or the challenge or even because she got bored.
She’d liked moving for the chance at a fresh start. To try to be someone else for a while.
“I don’t want to start over anymore,” she said. “I am who I am, and I’m about done looking for a place I fit better. I fit how I fit. And there’s not a place in the world that’s gonna bend to fit me any better than I can fit myself.”
He grinned at her. “You’re one of a kind, Dr. Boudreaux.”
“And I’m sure the world’s grateful.”
Thirty minutes later, Lance had agreed that it was safe to shoot the potato gun. They hiked back to where they’d left the equipment, and Kaci handed him her pink pride and joy. “Stuff one of those potatoes into the top of the barrel, but don’t push it all the way down yet. You got a knife?”
He pulled a four-inch folding pocketknife from his back pocket.
“Once you get the potato in up top, we’re gonna cut a slit for the ring,” she explained. “Then you can finish loading it and fire it off.”
“You’re going to let me fire your potato gun.”
She dug a foot into the sandy ground. “I have this little problem with aim…”
He snorted. “No way.”
“Hush up. It’s not because I’m a girl. If my daddy hadn’t left us too soon, he would’ve had me out at the firing range every Saturday afternoon.
But my momma kept stuffing me in dresses and making me do all those dang beauty pageants.
I snuck out and had my fun where I could, but you ain’t met the woman. She could’ve been a drill sergeant.”
He was still grinning as he inspected the potato gun. “You want, I can take you out to the shooting range sometime. Teach you a few tricks.”
“Don’t you go teasing me like that. You ever shot a spud gun before?”
His wide grin answered the mating call in her pure redneck heart. “Never one like this.”
“You’re in for a treat.”
“For once, I just might agree with you.”
The woman was nuts, but Lance liked her craziness more with every passing day.
Did he honestly need to shoot off his wedding set to get over Allison?
Hell no. And his own momma would probably have a heart attack at the idea.
But when he twisted a potato into the barrel and dug out a channel in the spud to shove in what should’ve been his wedding ring, he felt an anticipation stronger than the anticipation he’d had in the weeks leading up to his wedding.
Might be some appreciation growing for being here in Georgia too.
Not enough to stay—he still wanted to see the world—but enough to make it tolerable for the next year and a half until he could hopefully get an early assignment anywhere else.
“Shove that ring in there good,” she said. “Don’t want it to come out on launch. But not too deep—don’t want the potato to explode either.”
“Yes, Dr. Boudreaux.”
She humphed. “Or maybe you do want the potato to explode.”
He sucked in another grin. Too easy to get her goat.
Once he had the potato loaded with his ring, he took the broomstick handle from her and shoved the spud all the way down the barrel.
“Put the strap over your shoulder and aim it from your hip,” she said. “You put that puppy to your shoulder, you’ll land on your ass and probably have to see a doctor about your rotator cuff.”
“Lesson learned the hard way?”
“By a man who didn’t listen to me.”
He tucked in another grin. “He deserved it, then.”
“Dang right. This here’s the fuel control. Watch the pressure gauge when you’re filling it—that’s good right there.” Her arm brushed his, and the contact sent warm shivers over his skin. She eyed him, then stepped back. “Let her rip whenever you’re ready.”
He glanced down the way at the canopy of green over the lively creek.
Patches of orange and yellow were finally peeking through after a long, lingering summer that had lasted most of October.
If he’d been married now, he’d probably be headed home to a discussion of what had gone on at the Officers’ Spouses Club meeting, which vegetables had been on sale at Winn-Dixie, and if the chicken was too dry.
He’d probably be tired and half-bored, but attentive because that was what husbands were supposed to be.
And he wouldn’t have ever met Kaci Boudreaux.
The brilliant beauty queen who made redneck sexy as hell.
He hit the switch to fire the igniter. On the third try, it lit.
A swift shoomp sent reverberations up his arms. The potato sailed over the leafy canopy, a spud rocket racing toward infinity.
Kaci whooped. “Beautiful shot!”
He lost sight of it beyond the trees. The thing had to have gone four or five hundred yards.
Lighthearted peace took up residence in his chest.
“Feel better?” she asked with a broad grin that lit her blue eyes and put a shade of pink in her round cheeks.
Damn. She was right.
He did feel better.
“Hate to tell you, but I think you’re wrong,” he said.
One hand went to her hip, and that stubborn pout took up residence on her lips. “I don’t mind being wrong when I’m wrong, but—”
“This isn’t a potato gun. It’s a freaking cannon.”
She blinked. “Hush on up and reload. I got midterm reports to work on and I miss my cat.”
Yeah, that was totally worth risking getting a potato chucked at his head. He set the spud launcher on the ground and went back for a second potato.
No hesitation, he loaded it up and carved a notch to shove in Allison’s diamond ring. “You do this after your divorce?”
She laughed. “And more, sugar. And more.”
“How long ago did you leave him?”
“Little over two years.” She settled onto the creek bank, no obvious worries over getting her jeans dirty or mud under her fingernails. “And he left me.”
“He—”
“Yes, yes, he left me. And I can admit it.”
He shoved the diamond-laden potato down the barrel. “Must’ve been some damn good revenge you got.”
“By the time I moved here, it wasn’t about revenge. It was about settling where I belonged and taking care of me and Miss Higgs.” She grinned. “But now you can say you know someone legally banned from using a blowtorch in Colorado.”
As if he needed another warning about getting on her bad side.
But the funny thing was, he wasn’t worried about Kaci and revenge.
He was more worried about why he couldn’t stay away. “Think I can hit that tree with this one?”
“I sure as heck couldn’t.” She tucked her legs up to her chest. “And I never would’ve admitted that to Ol’ Grandpappy.”
He did a double take.
Was she talking about—
She grinned wide. “Not too much fuel there or you’ll have French fries.”
He switched off the fuel valve and checked the pressure gauge. Higher, but not dangerously so. “Does your ex-husband know you call him Ol’ Grandpappy?”
“He knows I think he’s an old geezer.”
“And he still gets jealous over you being with other men.”
“The man has issues.”
He didn’t bother holding in a laugh.
“And I’m one to talk,” she said cheerfully. “Go on, plant that diamond in that tree up there.”
He slid the strap over his head and pointed the cannon toward a towering pine fifty yards down the way. Firing from the hip made it hard to know for sure if he was lined up, but it felt right.
He hit the igniter three times.
The force of a giant THWOMP from the end of the barrel pushed him back a step. There was a crack, and the top of the straggly pine shook.
A primal surge of satisfaction flowed through his veins.
Kaci jumped up beside him. “Uh-oh.”
“Uh-oh?”
He glanced down at the potato gun.
Still pink, still in one piece.
She pointed. “You done took off the top of that tree.”
As they watched, the top fifteen feet or so of the pine wobbled, then slowly toppled, crashing end over end into the forest below with a rustling, muted crash.
“Who’d you say owns this land?”
“It’s the backside of a national forest,” she whispered.
He scooped up a third potato and shoved it into the barrel. “So I should hurry?”
“Might not be a bad idea.”
It took less than thirty seconds for him to shove Allison’s wedding band into the potato and finish loading the gun.
And the satisfaction that came from shooting it far, far over the trees wasn’t something he could’ve gotten from flying a plane, drinking with his buddies, or even getting laid.
It was a farewell. A farewell, and a true welcome to Georgia.
And he felt lighter than he’d ever thought he could be here.
They packed up the potato gun and hustled back to Kaci’s Jeep.
“So,” she said once they were safely back on the road, “you have dinner plans?”
He let his hand slide down her thigh and squeezed the firm muscle. “Hope so.”
She flashed that impish grin his way, complete with a promise of what she wanted to do to him once they were off the road, and for that moment—and several hours afterward—all was right in his world.