A Soldier Saved--A Clean Romance Read online

  He’s rebuilding his life...

  Could she be his happy ending?

  Returning veteran Jason Ward hopes a creative writing class will jump-start his life’s second act. Falling for his instructor is a major plot twist! Professor Angela Simmons is trying to move on after divorce, just like her soon-to-be-remarried ex. Though she’s drawn to Jason, his scars run too deep to let anyone get close. With a little poetry and a lot of courage…could this be the new chapter they deserve?

  “Hey, Angela.”

  She didn’t answer, but she did slow and stop to wait for whatever was coming next.

  Jason continued. “If you’re ever ready for me to call you, don’t forget, you’ll need to give me your number. And if you want to send me that picture of us, I’d love to have it.”

  She turned to stare over her shoulder. The desire to verbally hit him with something fun or flirty was on her face, along with a bit of extra pink, but she faced forward and walked away without satisfying either of them.

  Still, the day had turned out to be a whole lot more fun than he’d expected.

  The ache in his chest was familiar. It had been a long time since he’d hated watching a woman walk away, but that was where he was.

  On his bench, like an old-timer, but fighting a junior high school type of crush.

  Dear Reader,

  My hero in A Solder Saved is a wounded vet named Jason Ward. He signs up for a college creative writing class to prove a point. I once did the same, but in my case it was because I loved to write. No one warned me that strangers would read and respond to my iffy poetry! Aloud! While I was still in the room! Of course, my hero aces his class. I did not, but I got some memories that make me laugh (even now) and I still love storytelling.

  And writing mothers and daughters like Angela and Greer is a joy. My mother was a poet and my best friend no matter how many miles there were between us. She’s on every page of this one. I hope you enjoy the story.

  Cheryl

  A Soldier Saved

  USA TODAY Bestselling Author

  Cheryl Harper

  Cheryl Harper discovered her love for books and words as a little girl, thanks to a mother who made countless library trips, and an introduction to Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House stories. Whether stories she reads are set in the prairie, the American West, Regency England or Earth a hundred years in the future, Cheryl enjoys strong characters who make her laugh. Now Cheryl spends her days searching for the right words while she stares out the window and her dog, Jack, snoozes beside her. And she considers herself very lucky to do so.

  For more information about Cheryl’s books, visit her online at cherylharperbooks.com or follow her on Twitter, @cherylharperbks.

  Books by Cheryl Harper

  Harlequin Heartwarming

  Otter Lake Ranger Station

  Her Unexpected Hero

  Her Heart’s Bargain

  Saving the Single Dad

  Smoky Mountain Sweethearts

  Visit the Author Profile page

  at Harlequin.com for more titles.

  To old friends who are also family, thank you for listening when I talk endlessly about writing and understanding when I Do Not Want To Talk About Writing. Thank you for answering when I call.

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  EXCERPT FROM ENCHANTED BY THE RODEO QUEEN BY MELINDA CURTIS

  CHAPTER ONE

  “HEY, PROF, HEADS UP!” At the shouted warning, Dr. Angela Simmons hurried toward the steps in front of Sawgrass University’s administration building. She brushed a bead of sweat off her forehead as she watched a group of rambunctious kids trot to their next target. The eternal game that raged in the center of campus, no matter how many students had already left for the summer, was similar to golf, but Frisbees hurled at a high rate of speed replaced dimpled golf balls.

  Benches, lampposts, the hydrant near the corner of campus...those were the targets, and pedestrians were the hazards. At some point, the university would have to put in a dedicated course, but the lack of official equipment didn’t slow down the game.

  Freshman boys were enthusiastic about it. And loud.

  Even at the end of May, when the heat should encourage more indoor games.

  This sidewalk, the shadiest spot on campus, was always littered with kids in flip-flops, and the Monday before the first summer term started was no exception.

  Since she’d fallen in deep, deep love with her job and the kids who came through her classes, Angela was happy there were plenty of students milling around the building that housed both the registrar and the campus bookstore.

  Did she sometimes wish for a helmet for her own protection as she crossed from her parking spot to her office? Yes. But this building, the wide, tree-lined walkway leading up to it, and her beautiful office inside had convinced her Sawgrass University could be home.

  “Play on, gentlemen,” she called as she trotted up the low, flat steps leading to the building that was all angles and glass. Instead of brick and ivy and academic architecture, Sawgrass University’s planners had gone all in on the mid-twentieth-century concepts of how the future would be built.

  It had taken some adjustment, but Angela had learned to appreciate the clean lines. The overwhelming white surfaces and the glint of sunshine blazing across the glass in the early afternoon could still stop her in her tracks.

  Angela covered her eyes as she took the last steps and watched an older woman swing open the door and make the “hurry up” motion to the guy following slowly behind her. He did not walk faster.

  “It’s good advice to hurry,” Angela said. “You never know when a stray Frisbee is aimed straight at whatever you’re standing next to.” She turned to encourage the man and stopped at his ferocious glare. It lasted only a second before all expression bleached from his face. Deep lines around his lips suggested pain or fatigue.

  “Right. Sorry.” He motioned to the older woman ahead of him and then waited patiently for Angela to follow her. Uncertain as to what she’d done to earn the hostile look, Angela hurried through the door and paused as the woman held out her hand.

  “I was wondering...” Her voice was overly cheerful, but she turned a distinctly cold shoulder to the man stepping through the door behind them. When he braced an arm on the wall, Angela wondered if she should offer him a seat. “Could you give us directions to the registrar’s office? My son needs to register for classes for the summer term. This stifling heat and that trek across campus have worn me out.”

  Angela would have bet all her money that the son was the one struggling. But she was happy to help. She pointed down the hallway and then noticed the scowl was back. Since he was pushing forty, she was certain she understood the source of some of the anger.

  Her own daughter was sixteen and she’d insist her parents never follow her to school if she could get away with it. Since someone had to pay Greer’s tuition, her ex still managed to tag along.

  Even through th
e door that had closed behind them, Angela heard muffled shouts. The guys throwing the Frisbee had done something worth celebrating. It didn’t take much.

  “That’s what I meant about hurrying. Disc golf gets pretty cutthroat around here. You don’t want to be a casualty of a Frisbee to the head.” Angela expected agreement or some kind of acknowledgment, but the woman gave her son a worried frown. He carefully straightened but did not speak.

  “Directions?” his mother reminded them all, her eyebrows raised. “He needs to sign up before the office closes for the day.” Did she regret asking for directions or the entire Sawgrass visit? Since her son had edged back toward the door and appeared ready to forget the whole thing, Mom needed to keep things moving.

  Angela had been through snippy rants delivered by her own daughter, usually after embarrassing her at school, so she was sympathetic. The woman’s son was struggling after the walk. He needed to sit down somewhere soon.

  “Sure. You’ll follow this hallway. About halfway down, another hall turns off to the right. Go all the way to the end. It’s not too far. Someone there will help you get your classes set up.” Angela shifted the strap of her briefcase on her shoulder. Should she offer to call someone to help them? “Welcome to Sawgrass. I hope you’ll love it here.”

  The woman waved a hand. “Tell that to him. He’s convinced I’m torturing him. All I want him to do is take some accounting classes, do something safe for a while, you know?”

  Safe? Her word choice stood out. Angela wasn’t sure where all the tension between the two of them was coming from, but this guy? He was no accountant. His clothes were all right. Pressed khakis and a button-down were solid accounting wear, but his expression, the careful stare, even his too-long hair added up to rugged or even rough. Not safe. He agreed. The grimace was a big hint.

  “Accounting is a good area. You passed the building all the business classes are in when you parked.” Angela tipped her head to the side. “But part of the fun of the summer term is experimenting. Try something other than accounting. These are short, quick classes. If you’re a freshman, it’s awfully hard to know exactly what you want when you walk in the door.”

  She’d tried to tell Greer to keep her options open. It was impossible to know what would make her happy for the rest of her life at her age. This guy might have a better suggestion. Angela bent toward him. “Mothers don’t know everything, even if we try to pretend we do.”

  He blinked slowly at her and then rubbed his forehead, as if the whole conversation was giving him a headache. “Thank you. Tell that to her.” The words were polite. His tone was grim, but the corner of his mouth turned up.

  Angela soaked in the air-conditioning as she watched them walk away. The woman was fluttering around her son while he made a slow, measured pace down the hall. Before Angela turned to climb the stairs to her office, he called, “If I decide to take your advice, what’s the easiest class Sawgrass offers in the summer?”

  Angela gripped the railing, one sneaker on the first step. “Hard to say. It depends on your interests and what you enjoy, but I’ve heard that an A is almost guaranteed in the Intro to Creative Writing class. And no matter what you do in the future, the ability to write well will serve you in the long run.”

  That was the sentence her own college advisor had delivered when Angela was a freshman. It had been good advice. The fact that she loved teaching creative writing above all else was a bonus.

  If he chose her class, she might have one annoyed student on her hands.

  He studied her for a second. “Writing?” He glanced at the papers rolled up into a tube in his right hand.

  She dipped her head and then started up the stairs. The school administration took up the top floors of the building, but she’d garnered a plush office on the second floor.

  When she reached the landing, her phone rang.

  Pleased to have a moment to regain her breath after the climb, Angela dug her phone out of her briefcase.

  “Hey, baby, give me a minute to unlock my office door. I’m almost there.” Angela squeezed the cell phone between her ear and her shoulder. More people were on this floor, since the professors and teaching assistants, as well as admin people, were preparing for the summer semesters. It was a beautiful day to be almost anywhere else than inside, but it was hard to complain.

  “Hello?” her daughter yelled through the phone, so Angela quickly stepped into her office. “Are you still there, Mom?”

  Sixteen was a trying age.

  For everyone involved.

  Angela dropped her bag on her desk and gripped the phone firmly. “Yes, Greer. Sorry, baby. It took me a minute longer to get to my office. A bunch of my colleagues are here, prepping for their classes and there was a bigger group for registration than I expected. So I had to dodge a few people in the hallway.” And one handsome, grumpy guy. What was his story?

  Opening the blinds was always Angela’s first move. By virtue of her minor fame as a published poet and the university’s desire to keep her happy, she had one of the prettiest views on campus. A small lake glimmered behind the ring of buildings that made up the main campus.

  “Did you get my text?” Greer demanded. “You need to check out Dad’s latest post. I mean now. Do it now.”

  “You were going to send a picture of your chemistry final grade. The test you were so nervous about? That’s what I asked to see.” Angela sat down and opened up her laptop. “I haven’t had time to check your text yet. Why am I getting the feeling it’s about something bigger than whether you made an A or a B? Whatever it is, we’ll handle it.” The emotion in her daughter’s voice caught Angela’s attention.

  “Go to his page. You need to see the photos.” Greer huffed out a breath. “I’m going to wait.”

  Angela navigated quickly to Rodney’s page, determined to be upbeat and cheerful no matter what was waiting. The two of them hadn’t been on easy speaking terms since he’d informed her of his last-minute long-weekend trip to Europe and his plan for their daughter to remain in Nashville. Alone.

  Bringing Greer to Miami during the last weeks of school hadn’t been an option. Greer had finals and parties and summer plans.

  After the divorce, this was exactly what Angela had been afraid would happen, but she’d let Greer choose Nashville and her school and her friends over making the move to Miami with her. Accepting the offer at Sawgrass University had been difficult.

  The only thing harder would have been staying at the same college where her ex-husband was the department chair.

  “Okay, okay, okay, I’m there. On the page. Let me find your father’s posts.” Angela scrolled down quickly, certain she was going to find some extravagant purchase or a tale of woe that he’d split from Kate, the real estate lawyer he’d been dating for six months or so. He’d taken to being single again like the proverbial duck to water, dating soon after the divorce and often. Kate had lasted longer than most. Then the Eiffel Tower rolled past.

  Paris. A weekend in Paris. That had been his plan.

  And when she found the couple posed in front of the Eiffel Tower, the ring carefully displayed by their entangled fingers, her breath caught in her throat.

  “They’re engaged.” Greer’s quiet voice was the reminder Angela needed that she had to say something.

  But what was there to say?

  If she’d been pegged in the forehead by a flying Frisbee, she would be less stunned.

  To buy herself a minute to catch up, Angela cleared her throat. “Well, that’s great.” Her flat tone couldn’t be fooling anyone, so she tried again. “An engagement and a once-in-a-lifetime trip. That’s awesome. Are you mad they didn’t include you?”

  Angela wondered how bad the arrow to her heart would have hurt if Greer had been swept up into the extravagant event. At least she had company standing here on the outside. As it was, the bitter question about why Rodney had
never taken her farther than Atlanta was better off ignored. He would have, if Angela had made all the plans, packed his suitcases and buckled his seat belt on the plane. The last part might be an exaggeration. “If they’d waited a month or so, you could have gone with them.”

  “A month? Not even. A week, Mom,” Greer grumbled, a disappointed little girl seeping around the edges of weary maturity. “Did he choose the last weekend I couldn’t go with them so I couldn’t go with them?”

  Angela slumped back in her chair. If they’d waited a week, she would have agreed to a European jaunt because Greer would have been so excited Angela would have had no other choice. The fact that Rodney had moved ahead without his daughter... There was something there, but Angela couldn’t put her finger on it.

  It was too spontaneous. Nothing like him.

  “You can be disappointed and happy for them at the same time,” Angela said as she scrolled.

  “I am disappointed,” Greer admitted, “but dragging a teenager along would seriously hamper the grand gesture, so I guess I’ll let that go.” Her daughter’s heavy sigh cut across the distance, and Angela had no trouble picturing her familiar grimace of teenage angst. “But there’s more you should know.”

  Angela inhaled slowly, her mind spinning as she evaluated possibilities and eliminated them. One wouldn’t stay quiet.

  It was the only answer that made sense of the hurried timing.

  “She’s pregnant.” Angela rolled her pen across the desk as she absorbed that blow.

  “Yeah,” Greer said and then waited. “As soon as they got home, Dad told me. I haven’t seen Kate since they left. I’m guessing that’s because no one is sure how well I’m going to handle the news. They’re moving her stuff in here this weekend.”

  Moving her stuff into the house Angela had shared with Rodney.

  The same place Greer had and always would call home.

  Angela braced her elbows on her desk and covered her eyes with one hand. In the short, world-changing conversation, her first worry had been for herself, but her daughter was going to be the one with the biggest challenge to face.