Page 7 of Major Love

I pick up my bag and give the truck a little pat on the roof.

“Don’t worry, buddy. You’ll be in safe hands.”

Or, at least, what Casey doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

Now I just need to find his car keys.

I lift the hem of my dress as I walk up the porch steps, the sharp brown points of my cowgirl boots just visible in my peripheral vision. Then when I reach the top, I slip my hand into my jacket pocket, pulling out the key to Casey’s cabin as I glance at the love-seat beside the front door.

Whether or not Casey and Haven are currently in their off-again period, there isn’t a freaking chance that I’m going anywhere near that love-seat.

I tentatively nudge the love-seat away from me with the toe of my cowgirl boot and then, with one gentle motion, I push open the front door.

I lean one shoulder against the jamb, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips, and I give the inside a brief once-over.

“Oh Casey,” I whisper to myself, “you really are my brother, aren’t you?”

The interior of the bungalow is stunning varnished wood, and the open-plan entrance is furnished in rich browns and deep navies. There’s a fireplace set on the left side and a deep coffee-brown couch right in front of it, and there are a couple of framed photos of Casey and Haven on the mantle.

I smile at that. He’s such a softie.

I glance toward the right to check out the kitchen, and then I note the three doors in the back – the master bedroom, the bathroom, and then finally, the guest room.

I also note through the back porch window that there’s a huge tarp covering half of the grass, so God knows what Case was up to back there before he left for deployment a couple of months ago.

I swipe the blonde curls from out of my face and toss my carry-on in the direction of the kitchen, only keeping my lightweight MacBook tucked safely beneath my arm.

Do not go and look under that tarp, Sunday. We’re facing one problem at a time.

I set my MacBook on the coffee table, and shrug out of my furry jacket as I open the video call app, pulling off my cowgirl boots one at a time while shooting wary glances at the tarp behind the back porch.

What the heck could be going on under there?

I pick up my trusty boots and set them beside Casey’s front door, swiping the mail from his welcome mat as I wait for him to call me.

I glance casually through the envelopes until I find the one that I was looking for, breathing out a quiet exhale as I mull over what Casey has got himself into.

Because, when it comes down to it, the reasons why I’m about to hide out in Casey’s cabin for the winter are twofold.

Aside from the chaos that just happened to my life in Nashville? The real reason why I’m in Phoenix Falls is hidden inside this envelope.

I mean, Casey had to have known that I would have found out about it.

As the former CEO and manager of the most-loved bar in Nashville, more than half of my job was keeping on top of our accounts.

Which is probably why Casey entrusted me withhisaccounts, and as soon as I saw his last statement I knew that something had to be done.

Child support and bills alone have never madethatbig of a dent in his savings before.

One thing at a time, I remind myself gently, feeling warmth spread through my chest as the familiar sound buzzes from my laptop.

I smile and quickly pad back over to Casey’s cosy couch, tucking my legs beneath my butt as I lean forward and answer the call.

It takes a moment for the line to connect and then Casey Wells is looking back at me.

“Hey, soldier,” I say softly, smiling as his surly face glances up at me from the screen.

He shifts quietly on his seat, his broad shoulders blocking out the background behind him, and he tries to get comfortable after a painfully long day on base.

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