"He's a low and vile creature.” Ginger’s voice was almost a hiss. "Why didn’t you call me? You know you could've stayed with me. You always have a place with me."
No. Honey didn’t know that. After she’d chosen to stay with her father, Honey had assumed battle lines had been drawn. Only Ginger kept coming back to check on her. Just as their mom had always called to check in on her even if Honey declined to take the calls to stay in her father’s good graces.
Ginger squeezed Honey’s hand. Honey squeezed her sister right back. When Ginger’s hold loosened, Honey had to fight her arms to unlock.
"You're the soldier who rescued my sister?" Ginger asked, turning her attention to Mark.
Mark offered his hand. “Private Mark Ortega."
“Only a Private?” Ginger took Mark's hand. “I’m sure Sugar Daddy loved that."
"Ginger," said Honey in a warning tone.
"Don't worry," said Ginger. "I didn't inherit the snobbery gene in my family. And it looks like you're helping to disabuse my sister of the trait. So, I approve."
Chapter Seventeen
He liked the sister. Ginger would've fit in in the military with her no-nonsense attitude and quick wit. The sisters spent the night together in Honey’s room. He heard them chatting late into the night. They slept in for breakfast and were now in the Great Hall for lunch. Couples outnumbered the two remaining single men. So, of course, the brides of the Purple Heart Ranch sat Mark next to Honey and Chase across from Ginger.
“You misunderstand me, Sergeant Chase,” said Ginger. “I think a recruitment center is a great idea for the community. I just feel that a college education should be the first push for our young people.”
“Not every kid is meant for college,” said Chase.
“That line of thinking short changes our youth. They need to be told they are smart enough for post-secondary education.”
“You misunderstand me, Ms. Dumasse. It takes a great deal of intelligence to make it in the military.”
“I wasn’t attacking these young men’s intelligence—”
“Young men and young women, Ms. Dumasse. We also have programs for those past their prime years. Today’s militia is neither sexist or ageist.”
Ginger Dumasse narrowed her gaze at the man known as the Terminator. Both spoke with cool detachment. The passion for their causes could only be seen in the spark of their gazes.
“I went to college,” said Chase. “It was a waste of money that most of these kids don’t have. Being in the military is a life of service. It will give these kids a purpose and a paycheck.”
“So does a higher education,” Ginger insisted. “I serve, as well. I’m a warrior for this nation here on the home front. I just do it without a gun.”
“Problem with guns, Ms. Dumasse?”
“No, Sergeant Chase. I have perfect aim. I just know the pen is mightier than the rifle.”
“Should we separate them?” asked Honey.
“Not a chance,” said Maggie, who sat on the other side of Honey. “I hear wedding bells.”
"Sorry," Mark said into Honey’s ear. "You know how this place is."
He leaned into Honey and bumped her shoulder. He wanted to rest an arm at the back of her chair. Or better yet, around her shoulders.
But he was feeling self-conscious today. He’d almost kissed her last night. That hadn’t been a part of their plan. But it was totally on his agenda now.
"Yeah," Honey said, her cheeks blazing. "I'm sorry. I know you're not that guy."
"Not what guy?" Mark leaned back so he could peer down into her face.
"You know,” she said without any added clarification.
"No. I don't."
“Well, you’re not the marrying type.”
When had he said that? “Yes. Yes, I am.”
“You are?”
“I want to get married.”
“It’s just, you said eventually.”
“Yeah, eventually.”
The silence in the hall caught Mark’s attention. The debate between Chase and Ginger had gone mute. Many eyes were on them. Grins spread across smug faces.
“Someday,” Mark said into the pregnant silence. “But not to get a ranch house. Even though I do love this place. I need to be in good financial standing before I take on a wife and family. It’s the responsible thing to do.”
Honey nodded, not meeting his gaze.
Those half dozen eyes around the table narrowed on him in disappointment. Wait? Was he missing something? Did she want a marriage of convenience? Well, that was a dumb question. She was angling for one with the debutante ball. Would she settle for him and the small cottage on this ranch?
But on what income? Even now, his extra pennies went to his family. He meant what he’d said about taking care of her so long as she was in need. He wouldn’t leave her behind. His body was buzzing with the thought of providing for her.
No, actually that was his cell phone.
"Excuse me. It's my mom." Mark rose from his place beside Honey and went outside to take the call. “Hola, Mami. What's wrong?"
His mother was a no-nonsense kind of woman. She didn't believe in small talk. She was far too busy for that. Once a week she called to check on his health. But those were Sunday night calls. Today was Thursday. He knew if she was calling any other day, it was about money.
"We have an emergency," said his mother, confirming his assumption.
Mark pinched the bridge between his nose as he listened to his mother relay the injury her brother had sustained while helping out a neighbor. He wouldn’t be able to work for at least a month, maybe two. That was crucial income his family would be missing.
“You said you were getting that new position with the recruitment center,” said his mother. “Will you be able to give a little more this month?"
"Of course," Mark said. "I'll figure it out. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”
He didn't have the money. He had no idea where it would come from. But that never mattered before. Even if he picked up a part-time job, he would get it in time. What was he going to do?
Chapter Eighteen
"Oh, Honey." Ginger breathed the words as she stepped into Honey’s bedroom.
"You hate it.” Honey looked at herself in the mirror. The dress that was meant to be her Cinderella transformation suddenly looked like she was smudged with soot.
Why did she let her sister help her? She knew Ginger hated all the society stuff. Honey remembered Ginger's come out ball. She'd been in a foul mood, but she looked beautiful in a dress that was much like Honey had had designed.
Their mother had already passed away by that time. Ginger was in her last year of college. She’d agreed to go to appease their father. But as Ginger stood in front of the mirror in her old bedroom, looking at herself in the mirror, she’d backed out.
Their father had nearly burst a blood vessel with how much he yelled about how his daughter’s move affected him. It was always about him.
"You look beautiful.” Ginger came and rested her hands on Honey’s shoulders.
"You really think so?" said Honey. Her smile wobbled higher and wider until it killed her face.
"I wish Mom could see this."
Honey’s smile faltered, shrinking in on itself. It began to fade into blandness.
"Oh, honey bunny, no. Don't go there. You don't have to shut down and put your show face on anytime her name is brought up."
"She's not here. She left.”
Honey turned from the mirror. Because she no longer wanted to look at her face, which was so like her mother’s? Or because she didn’t want her sister to see the turmoil in her gaze? She wasn’t sure which. Probably both.
“She didn’t leave you, Honey. She ran from him. Our father is not a nice guy."
"Then why do you keep coming back?" Honey rounded on her sister, no longer caring about what she saw.
Ginger raised her shoulders in a helpless gesture. “He’s still my dad. I keep hoping the
re's a kernel of good somewhere in him. But after this, after turning you out, I've lost all faith in him. Family doesn't do that."
Mark had said that to her. Now her sister, who’d never truly left, said it. But Honey had done that. She’d turned her back on her mother in fear of poverty.
"You were young, Honey,” Ginger said as though she could read her mind. “We both were. We shouldn't have been forced to make that choice.”
“I’m sorry, Ginger. You kept coming back for me. You and mom. But I was so intent on pleasing him. I understand why she ran now. I nearly buckled trying to live on his trophy pedestal. Luckily, my shoe got caught.”
In the reflection of the mirror, Mrs. Patel’s heart shaped necklace rested against her heart. The shoes that had brought her and Mark together were polished and again on her feet. They were her good luck charm. Honey giggled, tasting the salt of her own tears.
"You’re going to mess up your makeup.” Ginger sat Honey down at the small vanity. "I'll fix it."
Ginger set about doing just that. Honey closed her eyes and gave herself over to her sister’s care. She had every confidence Ginger would make her pretty. But not as a trophy. As herself.
"So … you and the soldier?” said Ginger. “He's very Officer and a Gentleman. I heard he swept you off your feet at the Bachelors' Brunch. And now you're living with him."
"It's not like that."
"No? What's it like? I see the way he looks at you."
Honey’s eyes slammed open, and she nearly caught an eyeball full of mascara. "How does he look at me?"
Ginger grinned. "The same way you look at him: with interest."
Honey closed her eyes, but she no longer bothered hiding. “He's handsome. He's kind. But he's not marriage material. He doesn't have a job or his own place."
“Isn't he opening a recruiting center? And this home is a pretty nice place. From what I understand about this ranch, it could all be yours with a simple I do.”
Ginger said it with a smile. So, Honey knew she wasn’t serious. Or at least she didn’t think her sister was serious.
“I couldn’t,” said Honey. But her refusal was light-hearted. Was she actually considering a marriage of convenience to Mark?
She’d always known her life would come down to that? But she believed she’d marry a man in her social class. She’d always assumed she’d have a loveless arrangement. But every time she thought of Mark, her heart fluttered, her cheeks heated, her breath caught.
Mark had means of his own. It had only been a couple of days, but Honey felt warm and cozy in the little cabin. She could take care of it on her own, no need for servants. Or maybe two days a week for a cleaning service.
"I'm not saying you two need to get married. How about just dating?"
Dating Mark? Honey already knew she liked living with him, dancing with him, sharing meals with him. They’d almost kissed, and she knew for certain she would like that.
A knock sounded at the front door. Then it opened without their acknowledgment.
“Honey?” called Mark. “You decent?”
"It's him," said Honey.
Ginger brushed one last layer of color on Honey’s cheeks. “You're ready."
They opened the door. Mark stood in his uniform, filling it out as no other man could. He grinned wide and then his mouth went slack when he saw her.
"I'm sorry," he said. “You just took my breath away."
Whatever color Ginger had put on Honey’s cheeks was likely getting washed out by the heat that resulted from that compliment.
Mark offered Honey his arm, and they headed out for what she’d always thought would be the most important night of her life. Only now she realized it had nothing to do with the ball.
Chapter Nineteen
He was a walking cliché.
There were butterflies in his stomach. Birds flying around his head. His heart beat fast and hard like a gong pumping out of his chest. He was every cartoon character’s technicolor manifestation of a man falling hard.
"Where's your truck?" asked Honey.
They walked down the porch steps towards a dark sedan. Since all the soldiers here drove some version of a Ford or Chevy with a flatbed in the back.
"We couldn't show up to the ball in that. Besides, I wouldn’t want to get your dress dirty. This is a rental."
He’d taken his grandfather’s watch off as well and left it on his bedside table. He wasn’t taking any chances tonight. It had to be perfect for her.
"Can you afford this?" The moment the words were out of her mouth, she grimaced. "I mean, I don't want you to go through any trouble for me."
Money was tight, but he wouldn't skimp on this night. He would show her the night of her life if it bankrupted him. Which this one-day rental had come close to doing.
"Woman, you are nothing but trouble."
He opened the car’s door for her. Her body brushed his, and that spark between them ignited into a full-blown fire. Honey gasped, looking up at him with those doe eyes.
Mark resisted the urge to pull her to him and taste her lips. Though he had the right to. They were pretending to be dating. If the occasion called for it tonight, he'd certainly be willing to play that part.
But what about tomorrow?
He’d have to leave this place soon. With his brother laid up and the recruitment center on hold, he had to go back home and lend a hand to his family. Even though he knew his duty, he didn’t want to leave Honey behind.
But he couldn’t take her with him. Not to his family’s two-bedroom apartment that currently housed four people. Mark would be sleeping on the couch when he went home. Where would he put Honey? In his dad’s recliner?
No. Honey deserved better. Not because she came from wealth. Because she had a big heart. But the people in her world hadn’t bothered to look past her designer labels to see it.
Mark did. So did her sister. So did the people on the ranch.
Maybe he could work out something with Banks where she could stay in Mark’s cabin for the remaining time he had? Maybe she could go with her sister?
He wasn’t sure what to do? Already, the pressure to help his family overwhelmed him. But the need to provide for her was right on the same level.
"You good?" she asked, parroting the expression the soldiers often used.
He smiled down at the beautiful creature who had been entrusted into his care. She wore a gown of the finest silk. Her jewels were likely worth every penny his family had ever earned in their lifetime—times two.
“Yeah, I’m good,” he assured her. And it was true. “I’m great. I've got the easiest job in the world tonight; making you look good."
That's all he would focus on and not that he'd have to leave and go back home to help his family.
He would enjoy tonight with her. He would present her to the world. He would get her back into the graces of high society, the place she wanted to be. That way, at least he'd know she'd be financially taken care of.
He could never afford to care for a woman like Honey. His heart beat a stubborn rhythm of revolt. Mark ignored it and got behind the wheel.
Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to what could only be described as a castle. Mark handed Honey out of the car amidst a parade of limousines. He wrapped her hand in the crook of his arm, tossing the keys to the valet who looked suspect at his rental.
Entering the ballroom, Mark had another shock. It was even grander than he'd imagined. Silver and gold were everywhere. Ladies dressed in white moved like graceful dancers on a stage, though they were only walking around the room.
"Miss Honey Dumasse and Private Mark Oregon.”
Mark shrugged off the mispronunciation of his name. This was about Honey and not him.
All eyes turned to gape as they came down the grand staircase. Mark clenched his elbow so tightly he felt Honey wriggle her fingers in his hold. People’s gazes slid past him like he was invisible. He always would be invisible to these people. Their gazes focused on her, wher
e they belonged.
"Oh, Honey. We were sure you wouldn’t show."
A raven-haired beauty appeared at their side. On second thought, Mark decided to detract the description of beautiful from her. There was something dark and cold in the woman’s eyes.
“Hello, Quinn.” Honey smiled. Not the bland smile from when he’d first met her. Not the open one she’d adopted only a couple days at the ranch either. Honey’s gaze was on Mark as she beamed brightly. "Why wouldn't I? I have been waiting for this day my whole life."
"After, you know …” Quinn slid her gaze to Mark.
“Have you met my escort? Private Ortega."
"Only a private?” Quinn, who was barely five feet tall, managed to look down her nose at Mark. “Are you advancing soon?"
"I'm retired,” said Mark.
"Oh,” sneered Quinn.
"Mark is going to serve the community by opening a recruitment center. Already he works with the youth, teaching them about opportunities in the military.”
Mark didn't correct Honey. Not in front of her nemesis. They could discuss his departure after the night was over. Besides, he liked the pride in her voice.
"Have you met my escort, Lieutenant Bryant?” The toy soldier who’d stood by during Honey’s fall from grace appeared at Quinn’s side. “He outranks you, Private Ortega. Don’t you have to salute?"
"No, he doesn't," said Lt. Bryant. The man offered Mark his hand. Then he turned to Honey. "I'm glad you're doing well, Ms. Dumasse. I inquired about you with your father. I’m glad to see you’re in good health.”
The man’s glance slid over Honey before turning back to his date. It was clear to Mark that the lieutenant was interested in the woman on Mark’s arm and not his own. His heart thudded to a stop when he realized Honey could still have that engagement.
“Thank you both for your concern,” said Honey.
She gave Mark’s arm a tug to lead them away. Mark stalled for a moment. Wasn’t this what she wanted? This was her way back in.
Lt. Bryant’s gaze was an open door back into her world. But instead, Honey clung to Mark’s arm. Like a puppy on a string, Mark did her bidding.
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