The Mountain Man’s Midnight Date (Courage County Holidays #4)

Chapter 1

Ford

There are three things a real man never does:

He never makes his mama cry.

He never betrays his brothers-in-arms.

He never grabs his curvy little assistant and kisses her until she’s breathless.

Of them all, I’ve only ever been tempted to do the third, and that’s because of my assistant. She’s out-of-this-world beautiful with a sassy mouth that keeps me on my toes.

When the day’s flashbacks finally fade into nightmares that wreck my sleep and force me from bed in a cold sweat, it’s her voice I want to hear. But it’s the middle of the night, so I reach for the answering machine in my living room.

With the quick press of a few buttons, the messages start. I’ve hoarded all of them since she started working for me six months ago.

Nothing in her voicemails is explicit or even all that interesting. But there’s something about the sound of her breathy voice that soothes the jagged, broken pieces of my soul.

I play them, listening as she tells me that the security plan needs to be reviewed or her gentle reminder that the latest contract is due to be signed in less than a week.

As she talks, I start my grueling workout routine. I need a way to burn off this energy. I’m not supposed to see her for a few more days, not until after Christmas.

For a moment, I wonder what it would be like to spend the holidays with her.

Would she snuggle up next to me on my sofa, sipping coffee and lighting me up with that adorable giggle she has?

When the nightmares are bad, would she let me crush her against my chest and hold her until I remember that I’m not in a war zone anymore?

“Stupid fucker,” I chastise myself out loud. She wouldn’t want to be with me. I’m too old, too grizzled for a sweet thing like her.

As it is, driving up to my cabin to deliver paperwork every week is probably her least favorite activity. I bet she dreads doing it. The thought puts a knot in my chest, and I pause my workout long enough to rub the sore area.

I’d stopped feeling anything at all. Then six months ago, she showed up when I told my buddy I needed an assistant to handle the business side of my security consulting.

She was bright-eyed and beautiful and so eager to help.

I couldn’t say no. Didn’t realize how much she’d come to haunt my thoughts.

My phone rings, and I snatch it from the cradle. I don’t have a cellphone. I gave up on technology when I was medically discharged from the service and moved to my cabin.

I grunt out a greeting, already knowing it’s my brother. Hunter is a writer. He writes something called romantic suspense. I don’t know much about the genre, but I usually give him advice on fight scenes and talk to him about the weapons his hero would be likely to use.

“I’ve written myself into a corner. The hero is on the run from ninja assassins, and he’s just seduced the heroine. They’re getting hot and heavy when the front door is blown off the hinges, and they’re both taken hostage.”

“I’m not sure that stopping to fuck while running from–what was it again?” I search my tired brain, trying to remember what Hunter said his characters were running from.

The names change with every book, but I swear he only writes the same three basic plots. He says it’s intentional and part of the appeal of the romance genre is the formula.

Never mind how often I point out that if it were a real-life mission, his heroes would have already been shot in the back of the head. Guess that part isn’t romantic, and that’s why I’m not the writer in the family.

“Ninja assassins,” he answers as though that’s a perfectly valid career path and not at all something he probably made up on the spot. Why does he always have these plot problems at three in the morning?

“Yeah, I just don’t see the hero stopping to fuck her if they’re on the run from ninja assassins,” I answer. I’ve been on dozens of combat missions in my life and never once was I thinking about sex while on them.

“Not even if she’s super hot and looks kind of like that cute little assistant of yours? What’s her name again?”

I growl as something primal and possessive rises up in me. She’s not for another man to appreciate or even look at. “Joy is not your damn concern. You keep your eyes to your fuckin’ self.”

He chuckles. The bastard actually chuckles, and that’s when I realize I’ve been had. He’s been after me to talk to Joy for months now. Joy Jolly, with her cute name and sunshine personality.

“I thought you needed my help with a question about his Glock,” I gripe before I launch into a description of the weapon. We spend the next hour talking about weapons and entry points before there’s finally a beep. My heart nearly stops in my chest. She doesn’t normally call me this early.

“I’ve got a call waiting. Gotta go,” I tell him and barely give him time to tell me goodbye. I’ve had thirty-five years to talk to his ass, and he’s not pretty like Joy is.

“You lied to me.” Those are the first words from her, delivered in a sultry voice that has my hand twitching to reach for my cock. Nope, not going to do that.

“I’ve never lied to you.” My chest puffs up as I say the words. A man doesn’t lie to his woman, and in my mind, Joy is definitely mine. If only she’d accept a scarred, grumpy mountain man like me.

“You had a call on the other line,” she answers easily, her breathy voice teasing. “And you told me you didn’t have any friends.”

“I don’t have friends,” I answer. I don’t confess that I lost them. The investigation into the failed mission hailed me as a hero, but what kind of man lives while his unit dies?

“So, it was a girl then,” she says. Is it my imagination or does she sound jealous? That has to be my wishful thinking. Too much time spent alone in this cabin with only the wind for company.

“It was my brother, the brilliant writer who has won countless awards.” His career makes people smile. He should be proud of the work he does. I was proud of the work I did once.

“You have a brother?” she repeats, disbelief evident in her tone.

“Don’t be getting any ideas,” I growl.

She giggles then. It’s a soft, sweet sound. “I just can’t imagine two of you, all scowling and grumpy like that. Your mama must have had her hands full.”

I think fondly of Emma May, my adoptive mother, the one who took me in when I was a teenager with nowhere to go.

After she discovered I had two brothers, she worked tirelessly to unite us, and finally, the three triplets were whole again. She changed our lives. She gave us family, not that you would know that from how little I interact with everyone now.

I’m quiet for so long, lost in thought, that Joy clears her throat. “Sorry, boss. Didn’t mean to get sidetracked. I have an update on the Henderson mansion.”

I listen as she launches into the details about the Henderson mansion. They’re an eccentric billionaire family that my old buddy is guarding. I help with logistical support, but I do so from my cabin, reviewing plans for the next home they’re building, and pointing out potential security problems.

When she finishes her update, I hear the distinct sound of a car door slamming.

“Where are you?” I bark, like I’m her jealous boyfriend and not her boss. She doesn’t know that I’d give my right arm for that role.

“I’m at the hospital,” she answers cheerfully.

My heart falls to the floor. “Are you sick? Are you injured? Fuck, which hospital are you at?”

I’m already racing toward my front door, grabbing my keys and shoving them in my pocket. Don’t care where she is or how crazy it makes me sound. A boss has a right to check on his employee if she’s in the hospital.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she tells me. “I’m here for a charity event. You know, there’s this big, fancy thing coming up called Christmas. Those of us who are in the land of the living, we celebrate it every year. Some of us even exchange gifts.”

The tension bleeds from my body with her words as I realize that she’s not hurt.

“So, it’s a Christmas celebration?” I ask, already wondering what she’s going to wear to it. Would it be creepy for me to ask? Probably, I decide.

“Yeah, it’s some big party my mom is putting together. I have to deliver like eighty bajillion packages so everything can be set up on time.”

I already know that her family runs a holiday company. I’m not exactly sure why Joy doesn’t work for them. I’ve never asked. You don’t question a miracle, and if ever I got a miracle, it was Joy showing up to become my assistant.

“Should have taken the elevator,” she mutters so quietly that I think she must have been talking to herself. If I were there, I would carry all the packages. She’d never have to lift a finger if I were around.

“Oh, hi, Bobby.” Her voice changes, going brighter as she greets another man.

I have the sudden urge to drive to the hospital again. I want to get a look at this Bobby. I want to choke him and threaten him to treat Joy like the treasure she is. If he doesn’t, I’ll snap his legs off and use them to gouge out his eyes. “Who the fuck is Bobby?”

“Hang on one second. Yeah, I can talk,” she tells him. “Just give me five minutes to put these gifts down.”

“Ugh, I have to go,” she answers, her lowered voice the only indication that she’s talking to me and not him.

“Who the fuck is Bobby?” I repeat the question. Fuckin’ hate hospitals, but I’d drive all night to get to her, to snatch her away from Bobby and keep her right by my side where she’s meant to be.

“He’s my sister’s boyfriend. Well, her ex-boyfriend. It’s complicated,” she answers as if that clears up everything. Nothing is clear as the edges of my vision start to go red. I’m going to find this motherfucker and destroy him.

“And what does he want with you?” My snarl doesn’t even sound human, but I can’t help it. Someone is near her, and I’m going out of my fucking mind.

“Probably just to ask me when she’s going to arrive at the party. Why, are you jealous?”

Deep breath in and hold for the count of four. Stupid breathing exercise that barely keeps me from losing my mind. Still, it calms me enough that my voice comes out even. “Just making sure that my employee is safe at all times.”

“I’m perfectly fine. Listen, I’ll see you after the holidays, and we can catch up on the Henderson security plan then. Try to enjoy your time off,” she tells me.

As she hangs up, I stare at my phone long after and listen to the dial tone. There’s not a chance in hell that I’ll be enjoying this time without her. Not knowing that fucking Bobby is around.