Adam
7 Brides for 7 Soldiers
Book 2
Roxanne St. Claire
Adam
7 Brides for 7 Soldiers
Copyright © 2017 South Street Publishing
ISBN print: 978-0-9970627-7-9
ISBN ebook: 978-0-9981093-9-8
This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. All rights to reproduction of this work are reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means except for brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews without prior written permission from the copyright owner. For permission or information on foreign, audio, or other rights, contact the author,
[email protected] Meet all seven sexy soldiers of Eagle’s Ridge, Washington in the 7 Brides for 7 Soldiers series!
1. RYDER by Barbara Freethy
2. ADAM by Roxanne St. Claire
3. ZANE by Christie Ridgway
4. WYATT by Lynn Raye Harris
5. JACK by Julia London
6. NOAH by Cristin Harber
7. FORD by Samantha Chase
For information:
[email protected] www.roxannestclaire.com
www.facebook.com/roxannestclaire
www.twitter.com/roxannestclaire
Newsletter sign-ups get a free book and tons of goodies: www.roxannestclaire.com/newsletter
Table of Contents
ADAM
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Excerpt from ZANE by Christie Ridgway
About the Author
Dedication
Sometimes neighbors are the people who live next door, and sometimes they are the friends you rely on through thick and thin. This book is dedicated to Cyndi Stowe and Chris Rodenhurst who not only helped hook up our generator so I could finish writing this book after a hurricane hit, they are also former U.S. Coast Guard officers who made sure I had my facts straight for a Coastie hero. Thank you for all the love, laughter, and wine we’ve shared as neighbors and friends.
Chapter One
Adam Tucker peered into the shadows of a drafty, dingy, far-from-finished former boathouse and huffed out a breath of pure frustration. He had three weeks, but he needed three months for this Herculean task.
Damn his brother and his wild ass and endless bets. And damn that last shot of Jack Daniel’s for making him take a Zane Tucker wager. After sharing thirty-two years on earth and nine months in the womb, Adam should know better than to bet his twin.
But finishing the transformation of a boathouse into a camp dorm had seemed like a no-lose proposition at Baldie’s last night. The hardest part of the construction work was done, and Adam already had interest from YMCAs and youth programs all over the Pacific Northwest to book adventure tours for kids later this summer. He could finish this remodel in three weeks, even if Zane used words like impossible and in over your head and furniture shopping.
Holy hell, he hated to shop for a pair of jeans, let alone everything he’d need to finish this project. Beds, chairs, dressers, sofas. And appliances. And…shit. He still had to install the cabinets and build stairs. And probably paint the entire place. Nah. A bunch of kids wouldn’t care if there was a little gunboat-metal-gray primer on the walls, right?
His gaze traveled up to the second-floor loft and the bank of windows that ran under the rafters on three of the walls. Windows that had been shuttered for years since his grandfather abandoned this place long before Adam was even born.
Kids wouldn’t care if it was dark, either. Hell, they were just going to sleep in here.
He had only three weeks until spring weather ushered hundreds of tourists into Eagle’s Ridge, and they’d descend upon A To Z Watersports to rent kayaks, paddleboards, and canoes, or take white water rafting trips down the Snake River. Adam and Zane would be slammed with business, even if they did hire another guide or two. There’d be no time for Adam’s “side” project.
Speaking of hiring, wasn’t someone supposed to be here for an interview? He checked his watch and noted the prospective employee was ten minutes late already. Good river guides were hard to find, so he wouldn’t hold it against her, but he’d have to cut the interview short now. Well, he’d just throw her into a raft so she could show him her stuff and he could get back to this job. There was still so much left to do to make this old building a place to rescue kids who needed it the most.
Still, he’d better see if the interviewee was in the rental office waiting for him. He crossed the wide wooden planks he’d refinished himself, appreciating the shine and almost-invisible nails, one of the many things he was proud of in this building.
When he’d come home to Eagle’s Ridge from his last Coast Guard station two years ago, he’d had the idea to turn this place into a living quarters for a youth camp right away, buying the deserted boathouse for a song from his grandpa Max.
The structure had been abandoned for years, situated on the far side of prime riverfront property Adam’s grandfather had claimed back in the forties when Eagle’s Ridge had first been founded. Grandpa built a big old house, which was now A To Z headquarters on the first floor and Adam’s apartment on the second, and erected the boathouse to rent out space to local canoers and kayakers. That business fizzled over the years, and the building slipped into disrepair, used for little more than storage.
But Adam was changing all that.
And if just one teenager got high on nature instead of drugs, then he would have had succeeded. At least, maybe he’d succeed in wiping out a little of the endless supply of guilt that he’d carried since the day he left Kodiak, Alaska. One failed rescue shouldn’t have wrecked him or his career, but it had.
Now, he knew what he had to do, and if his brother said it had to be finished in three weeks or wait six months?
Then he’d do it in three weeks, damn it.
He yanked open the heavy wooden door and walked smack into sunshine. And woman.
They both jolted backward at the unexpected contact.
“Oh, oh, sorry.” She blinked up at him, but his eyes were still adjusting to the sunlight. “Are you Adam Tucker?”
Then his eyes cleared so he could get a better look. A much better look. “You’re…” Gorgeous. “Here for the interview?”
Surprise widened ebony-dark eyes and sent long, black lashes up to perfectly arched brows. She wore makeup for an interview that she knew included a trip down the river? That was a first.
“Wow, you guys are quick around here,” she muttered.
Late and sarcastic, too? She better know her way around some rapids.
His hand still on the door, he closed it behind him, not willing to waste interview time answering questions about his pet project.
“We try.” But the only thing he was trying to do was not stare. Impossible. She was so…so…so not a watersports guide.
“River rats” had a look he’d come to know and expect. They all had sun-washed, freckled skin with that faint smell of th
e rapids clinging to wash-and-wear hair. The dudes were rugged and fearless, the chicks were natural and sunny. Female guides were built for watersports with strong upper bodies, flat chests, and muscular thighs from hundreds of hikes and miles of swimming.
This woman looked like the only swimming she did was poolside in a bikini. She smelled more like flowers than the river, and those tumbling layers of black hair had clearly been in the hands of a professional. If she’d seen the sun, it was from under a hat and a thick layer of SPF 50, because her skin looked like pure whipped cream. And her body wasn’t flat, muscular, or built for anything but…yeah, that.
Definitely built for that.
“You’re ready to interview?” he asked, knowing he had an edge of challenge in his voice, but honestly, he’d already made his decision. This babe was not seaworthy.
“Of course,” she said. “That’s why I stopped in at the front desk at…” She gave a vague gesture in the general direction of the business. “A To Z Watersports, is it?”
She couldn’t even bother to know the company name before showing up? Strike…five, hot stuff.
“That’s what we call it.” Let her figure out that A and Z referred to owners Adam and Zane Tucker.
“Well, I was asking about a job, and they sent me…” She glanced behind him at the former boathouse, those pretty brows drawn in an expression of confusion. “Here.”
“Same business,” he said. “Just a different department. I’m Adam Tucker.” He reached out a hand and noticed that she hesitated just a moment before shaking it. With red-painted nails, no less.
“I’m…” She cleared her throat and nodded once. “Jadyn McAllister.”
Even her name was too glam for a guide. “Jadyn,” he repeated, letting the pretty sound settle on his tongue.
“Like the stone, with an n. Jade-en.”
He realized that he still held her hand, which was soft and tender and…had never gripped an oar in its life. “Been out on the Snake River much?”
“No. I’m from Miami.”
“Miami?” He covered his laugh with a cough. “Like Miami, Florida?”
“That would be it.”
“They have watersports down there?”
“Water? In Miami? You do realize Florida is surrounded by water on three sides?”
Really, the last thing he needed to hire was a smartass who had to blow-dry her hair before taking out a rafting tour. “Miami just seems so different from here.”
“It is,” she agreed. “But I’m a fast study, a hard worker, and I’m looking for work. I was told you have a job that would be perfect for me.”
There was the most imperceptible note of desperation in her voice that twisted something in his gut. “Well, I need to hire someone and fast, but…”
He let his gaze drop over her, taking in the way a white sweater clung to her curves and accentuated that veil of gleaming hair the color of a midnight sky. A thin, cotton sweater with no jacket in forty-five degrees. That probably explained why she had both arms wrapped tightly, denying him a full look and making him think about giving her his down vest.
She wore jeans so tight he could see every line of her long, lean thighs, finished off by high-heeled black boots peeking out from under the denim.
Heels. Seriously. On a watersports guide?
“Are you sure you can do this?” he asked.
She just lifted a brow.
“No offense,” he said quickly, kicking himself for talking without thinking. Now she was going to throw some labor law at him for saying something politically incorrect or insulting in an interview. Zane was so much better at this than he was.
“None taken,” she assured him. “It’s just that you don’t even know my qualifications yet.”
“True. Résumé?” He held out his hand.
“Oh, I left it over there. The man behind the counter read it and sent me straight here, telling me I should just talk to you.”
The man behind the counter. Of course Zane would think it would be hilarious to send a beauty contestant over to distract Adam from winning the bet. “Let me guess. He looked just like me.”
She frowned. “He had darker hair, but…yeah.” She considered him for a moment, her gaze moving up and down his body just slowly enough to make him uncomfortable. “He was bigger.”
Bigger? He snorted. “Yeah? You should have seen him as a kid. Went from scrawny to brawny, and his idea of a joke is as massive as his chest, that’s for sure. Sorry, but you’re not what I’m looking for.”
Her jaw loosened. “Based on…what?”
On the obvious fact that she was no river rat. But, fine. He’d play the game. He held up his hands in surrender. “You’re right. I’m being an ass.”
“Ya think?” she mumbled, turning to hide the comment, but he caught it, loud and clear.
“Let’s just get going so I can see what you got.” He nodded toward her jeans and boots. “You bring your own gear and clothes?”
“My clothes are fine. My gear is between my ears. Why don’t you start by telling me what it is you’re looking for?”
“What I’m looking for is someone with enough experience to know you can’t wear high-heeled boots and skintight jeans,” he shot back.
She blinked at him. “What would you have me wear, Mr. Tucker?”
“How about a wet suit, booties, and a splash top that says you’re not afraid of getting good and soaked, if that is indeed even true?”
She stared at him for a second, then her eyes shuttered closed. “You know what? I don’t need a job that bad.” She backed away. “It was a stupid idea. And that other guy seemed really nice.”
As opposed to what Adam was being, but come on. He needed a river guide, not a runway model. “Because my brother’s trying to derail me and distract me,” he explained.
She frowned. “That’s not what he said, but honestly? I’d rather starve.” She pivoted and started across the lot, in the direction of Sentinel Bridge.
That’s right, princess. Go to the better side of town where you belong.
Every single step tortured him with a back view that was as fine as the front. He stared until she walked along the wide section of the bridge and hesitated at the door to No Man’s Land, the restaurant his dad owned. The whole time, Adam had one thought echoing in his brain: Zane really needed to die.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry to be late!”
Adam turned to see a woman powering toward him, a huge smile and a smattering of freckles over suntanned skin.
“I’m Holly Dillard, certified seaworthy kayak and rafting guide.” She held out a hand and shook Adam’s with a no-nonsense grip and a palm full of paddle calluses. “You probably don’t remember, but we met last summer on the Salmon River, where I’ve been a guide for thirteen years.”
He let go of her hand, still processing her introduction as he glanced down at the wet suit she had on under a loose water jacket. “You’re…the guide interview.”
“It’s been a dream to live in Eagle’s Ridge and work for A To Z Watersports. What do you say we take a kayak out and let me show you how I roll?” She flashed a warm smile that lit her whole face and made her eyes twinkle. All without a spec of makeup. Or sarcasm.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Let’s go get the boats.”
On the way to the dock and put-in, she chattered about the rapids rise and last month’s floods and when she worked a summer at the Columbia River Gorge and…Adam glanced over his shoulder.
If this was his guide interview, who the hell was that other woman?
“Pick a vessel,” he said, indicating a row of kayaks roped along the docks. “I’ll be right back. I need to talk to my brother for a second.”
He took the back door into A To Z Watersports, walking through the kitchen break room, where Gambler, Zane’s yellow lab, snoozed contentedly on his dog bed in the corner. That meant Zane was here for sure because that crazy ass dog went wherever his master went.
He strode ov
er ancient scuffed wood and inhaling the morning scents of coffee and doughnuts someone brought in. He passed the two offices that were once a bedroom and dining room, into the old-time parlor that now served as the business reception area. There, Zane was at the desk, finishing up a call.
“So?” His brother tapped the cell phone to disconnect and looked expectantly at him. “Do you owe me a beer or what?”
“A beer?” Adam stared at him, long used to the fact that his twin brother was a near-carbon copy, except Zane had dark brown hair and Adam’s was bleached light by the sun. Yes, Zane was bigger, thanks to his gym time, but they had the same jaw, only Adam’s was clenched right now. Same smile, not that Adam was wearing one at the moment. And the same eyes that straddled blue and green, depending on the color of the sky and their moods.
Right now, Adam’s mood was surprisingly foul.
“You think I’m so dumb I’m going to take Miss Miami Heat out on a kayak and lose my whole day of work? You really want to win this bet that bad, Bro?”
Zane’s dark brows drew together. “It’s just a bet, Adam. Anyway, it’s more fun if I give you an unfair advantage and still win.”
“How in the hell does she give me an unfair advantage? The only thing she gave me was a headache.” And an ache a little lower, but he’d jump naked into a freezing river before he admitted that to his brother.
Zane looked more perplexed, then glanced at the desk in front of him. Picking up a sheet of paper, he held it out for Adam. “I saw this résumé and thought she’d be exactly what you need.”