The Cowboy's Valentine Bride. Patricia Johns
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A Time to Heal
Brody Mason needs a nurse. As soon as he can walk again, he’ll leave Hope, Montana, and go straight back to the army. But Kaitlyn Harpe? That’s adding insult to injury. Not just because she’s a daily reminder that Brody’s fiancée, Kate’s sister, married his best friend while he was fighting in Afghanistan. But because Kaitlyn had kept the truth from him.
The Kaitlyn he knew before he deployed would never have perpetuated a lie like that. But this new person—the confident, beautiful woman with hidden depths in her eyes—is nothing like the shy, serious girl he knew. This Kaitlyn troubles him. Because Brody is starting to wonder if he proposed to the wrong sister…
“Don’t say that you don’t matter, because if you’d died over there—”
She was saying too much, and she bit back the words. What was she going to do, confess that she’d been in love with him for the two years he’d been dating her sister? It didn’t matter. He’d made his choice.
“Hey…” His voice was a low rumble, and he put a finger under her chin and tipped her face up so he could look into her eyes. His gaze moved slowly over her face. “You saying you missed me?”
A smile flickered at one side of his mouth. She was saying a whole lot more than that—at least she had been before she’d wisely shut up. Brody ran his thumb along her jaw, the movement slow and deliberate.
She didn’t answer him. He was joking around, wasn’t he?
The Cowboy’s Valentine Bride
Patricia Johns
PATRICIA JOHNS has her honors BA in English literature. She lives in Alberta, Canada, with her husband and son, where she writes full-time. Her first Mills & Boon novel came out in 2013, and you can find her books in the Love Inspired, Western Romance and Heartwarming lines.
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To my husband and our little boy—
the two sweetest Valentines in the world.
Contents
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Extract
Brody Mason’s leg throbbed. The last of his morphine had worn off, and no matter what position he adopted in front of the crackling fireplace in his childhood home, the pain was constant.
He’d been honorably discharged from the army and given a medal for bravery—presented to him in the crisp hospital bed where he’d spent the last couple of months—but he’d never felt less deserving. While people at home called every returning soldier a hero, he saw a difference: real heroes got their buddies out alive, and Brody hadn’t managed to do that. Now he was home in the tiny town of Hope, Montana, and while his family doted on him, no one really understood. His fellow soldiers hadn’t survived the explosion that tore up his leg in early December; he was supposed to have their backs. And that hurt worse than the shrapnel.
The hospital stay had been a haze of pain meds, and every week the doctor assured him he’d be able to leave soon, but then something would hold up his recovery. Brody had missed his sister’s wedding because of an infection in his leg, and he’d been forced to watch her nuptials via webcam, which was just as well, considering that he solidly disapproved of her choice in groom. Once he recovered from the leg infection, there was a bronchial infection triggered by all the dust he’d breathed for the last year in Afghanistan, which put off his second surgery to remove the last of the shrapnel. When the surgery was complete, the nurses stopped hovering quite so much—a good sign.
Then one day in late January, a week after his last surgery, the doctor had deemed him sufficiently recovered and signed his discharge papers. Just like that. No muss, no fuss, no grandeur. His parents picked him up from the hospital and drove him home. Which left him here, sitting in front of the fireplace, trying to find a comfortable position for his aching leg.
The back door to the ranch house opened and shut, and there was the soft murmur of voices. He couldn’t make out who the nurse was...not that it mattered. He shifted again, closing his eyes against the wave of pain. Brody heard a noise behind him, and he reluctantly turned.
Kaitlyn Harpe stood at the door to the sitting room, her arms crossed over her chest. Her auburn hair hung in loose