A Soldier's Secret. RaeAnne Thayne
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“Um, yeah. It’s a military thing. Nicknames, you know?”
The explanation sounded lame, even to him, but she appeared to buy it without blinking. In fact, she gifted him with a particular sweet smile. “All right. Max it is. You may, of course, call me Anna.”
He absolutely was not going to let himself get lost in that smile, no matter his inclination, so he forced himself to continue with his subtle interrogation. “Are you from around here?”
She shook her head. “I grew up in a small town in the mountains of Utah.”
He raised an eyebrow, certain he hadn’t unearthed that little tidbit of information in his research. “Utah seems like a long way from here. What brought you to the Oregon coast?”
Her eyes took on that evasive film again. “Oh, you know. I was ready for a change. Wanted to stretch my wings a little. That sort of thing.”
He had become pretty good over the years at picking up when someone wasn’t being completely honest with him and his lie radar was suddenly blinking like crazy.
She was hiding something and he wanted to know what.
“Do you have family back in Utah still?”
The tension in her shoulders eased a little. “Two of my older brothers are still close to Moose Springs. That’s where we grew up. One’s the sheriff, actually. The other is a contractor, then I have one other brother who’s a research scientist in Costa Rica.”
“No sisters?”
“Just brothers. I’m the baby.”
“You were probably spoiled rotten, right?”
Her laugh was so infectious that even Conan looked up and grinned. “More like endlessly tormented. I was always excluded from their cool boy stuff like campouts and fishing trips. Being the only girl and the youngest Galvez was a double curse, one I’m still trying to figure out how to break.”
This, at least, was genuine. She glowed when she talked about her family—her eyes seemed brighter, her features more animated. She looked so delicious, it was all he could do not to reach across the table and kiss her right here over his aunt’s French toast.
Her next words quickly quashed the bloom of desire better than a cold Oregon downpour.
“What about you?” she asked. “Do you have family somewhere?”
How could he answer that without giving away his identity? He decided to stick to the bare facts and hope Abigail hadn’t talked about his particular twisted branch of the family tree.
“My father died when I was too young to remember him. My mother remarried several times so I’ve got a few stepbrothers and stepsisters scattered here and there but that’s it.”
He didn’t add that he didn’t even know some of their names since none of the marriages had lasted long.
“So where’s home?” she asked.
“Right now it’s two flights of stairs above you.”
She made a face. “What about before you moved upstairs?”
Brambleberry House was the place he had always considered home, even though he only spent a week or two here each year. Life with his mother had never been exactly stable as she moved from boyfriend to boyfriend, husband to husband. Before he had been sent to military school when he was thirteen, he had attended a dozen different schools.
Abigail had been the rock in his insecure existence. But he certainly couldn’t tell that to Anna Galvez. Instead, he shrugged.
“I’m career army, ma’am. I’m based out of Virginia but I’ve been in the Middle East for two tours of duty. I’ve been there the last four years. That feels as much home as anywhere else, I guess.”
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