Page 57 of The Soldier and the Cowboy

“Si,” he replied, nodding enthusiastically as he stared at the picture. “Senorita, are you playing football on Sunday?”

“Not this Sunday,” she said.

“Next time, can I be on your team?” he asked, his face eager.

“Absolutely,” she called. She ran back down the road, tossing him a wave over her shoulder.

Chapter 22

That night the local jail received six anonymous prisoner donations, dumped on the doorstep with a note that read, “Please take care of our boys. We can no longer care for them as they need to be cared for. The big one likes to be punched regularly. Sincerely, a loving mom.”

The atmosphere was festive on the drive back to the ranch. It was over, and things couldn’t have gone better. And then they arrived back at the house and saw Cal standing on the steps, arms crossed over his chest. The party atmosphere faded and died and they trooped silently from the trucks.

He regarded them with a glare a moment before speaking. “Ethan, Frog, Shimmer, Jones.” They had only met once at Maggie and Cam’s wedding. He hadn’t seemed to be paying attention to their names, but apparently he had taken note.

“Did anyone else just pee their pants a little?” Jones whispered, causing the others to snort a muffled laugh.

“There’s Maggie’s pie and cake and cookies left, if y’all would like to go in and have some.” His eyes narrowed on Cam. “I’ll deal with you later. You stay,” he added to Bailey.

Bailey remained where she was, at the base of the stairs. Everyone else filed silently into the house.

“I take it things went well,” he said.

“Yes. Rodriguez is…”

He pressed his hands to his ears and shook his head. “I don’t want to hear it.”

She ran lightly up the steps, stopping on the step above him to give her a better height advantage, and peeled his hands from his ears. “Incarcerated,” she said loudly enough to be heard.

He blinked at her. “Oh.”

“You thought I went there to kill him in cold blood?” she guessed.

“Yes.”

“I can’t say I didn’t think about it. But that wasn’t the purpose of the mission.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, are you?”

“I’m groggy,” he said.

“Oh, right. Sorry about that.”

“I’m mad at you,” he informed her.

“You should be,” she agreed.

“You drugged me, you defied my wishes, and even wearing camo and grease paint you’re incredibly hot.” He picked her up.

She secured her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist. “That makes you mad?”

“No, it makes me mad I’m trying to yell at you but the hotness factor keeps getting in the way.”

“How do you think I made it through boot camp?” she asked. “What can I do to help you be un-mad at me?”

“I’m going to have to ponder on it a bit. In the meantime, I guess you’ll have to kiss me,” he said and kissed her.

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