“Love you, too.” She waved her fingers at Jase. “Drive safe.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Fingers brushing across her cheek woke her. Bree yawned wide and turned her head to Jase.
Jase brushed a strand of hair off her shoulder. “We’re home, darlin’.” She nodded and unbuckled the seat belt, and Jase helped her out of the truck.
She hung her keys on the hook next to the kitchen door and kicked off her heels.
Jase stopped her from going farther into the house. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You’ve been quiet since you went to dance. Did something happen?”
Bree shrugged and averted her gaze. “Just tired.”
“I know how you act when you’re tired. This isn’t it.”
She sighed. “I saw you talking to Gran.”
His thumb rubbed across the top of her hand. “Okay. And?”
“I thought…” She shook her head. “It’s not important.”
He sat on the padded bench and pulled her between his legs. “You thought I was going to propose.”
She laid her hands on his shoulders, not meeting his eyes. Her face warmed. Her expectations were ridiculous. As much as she didn’t want him to propose at the party, she still felt dejected when he hadn’t. She couldn’t get the thought of marrying him out of her head. Brianna Larken had a nice ring to it. She may as well get a notebook and draw hearts with their initials inside them.
One of his hands ran up and down the outside of her thigh. “I was explaining a couple of things.”
Did she really want to know? “Like what?”
“That I’m not going to ask you to marry me.”
She gasped. Nope. She didn’t want to know. Her heart plummeted to her feet and she tried to step back. His fingers dug into the back of her legs.
“Let me go.” God, this hurt. Why was he even with her if they didn’t have a future?
“No. Listen to me, Bree.” One arm wrapped around her hips. She pushed at his broad shoulders, but failed to budge him. “I said I’m not going to ask you, not that I don’t want to marry you.”
She quit pushing. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t ever want you to doubt why I’m with you. When we get married, it’s going to be because you asked me.”
Her brain struggled to play catchup. “Oh.”
He raised his eyebrows, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Oh.”
She bit her lip and dropped her gaze. Well, this is embarrassing. Maybe she had overreacted a little.
“But I am telling you this.” She looked back into his hazel eyes. “We start talking kids, or you get pregnant, deal’s off. I’m dragging you to the closest alter I can find.”
“Oh.” Her breath left her in a rush at the image of a little baby Jase.
He stood and picked her up in one move. She tightened her grip on his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his hips. He nipped at her shoulder where it met her neck.
“Where are we going?”
He strode through the kitchen. “I’m putting you where I want you.”
There are so many people I want to thank, I’m having a hard time figuring out where to start.
To all the wonderful authors in RWA and WRW who have provided guidance, insight, encouragement, and shared their experiences. I would not have gotten nearly as far without your help.
To the Scribophile author community for providing feedback and critiques, but especially to Deidre and Kristina who (through no fault of their own) became my critique partners and stuck with me until the end. I promise I will catch up.
Kristy and Toni, thank you for being the first to read the whole book in it’s final version.
To my wonderful editor Denise (it’s purely a coincidence), who managed to turn around my manuscript while packing up her family and moving half-way across the country.
To my framily (friends and family) for your encouragement and support in everything I do, even when you’re not jumping for joy about some of the roads I take.
To the women who have cried with me and laughed with me; bled with me and healed with me; and always, no matter what, gave me a safe place to be me.
Tarina has spent the last 21 years in the Air Force trying to figure out what she wants to be when she grows up. Currently stationed in Washington DC, she will soon be packing up her twin heathens (i.e. 4-year-olds) and moving to the Middle East for a 2-year assignment. As a single mom, her favorite pastimes include repeating the word ‘no’, the phrase ‘I said no’, and napping. Oh, and writing in her “spare” time.
Having never lived in one place for more than four years, her roots aren’t deep, but the friendships she’s formed over the years are.
Verbal contact is not recommended before her first cup of coffee in the morning, but feel free to stalk her on Facebook, Author FB Page, Twitter, her website, or email her at [email protected]. Sign-up for her newsletter to be one of the first to see sneak peeks, excerpts, and find out how she’s coping in the hot, hot desert sun.
Look for Denise’s story, Locked Down Heart, in 2017.
Author’s Note
Writing this book has been such an exciting and, at times, cathartic journey. Bree and Denise are a mosaic of many, many of my friends and fellow women service members. They are the women I love and respect, and know I can rely on, no matter what.
The Cultural Support Teams grew out of the Female Engagement Teams when the Marines and Army, operating in Iraq and Afghanistan, realized there were certain things male service members couldn’t do, due to cultural issues. I’ve had the privilege of meeting and knowing several during my own deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan. If you’d like to learn more about them, Gayle Tzemach Lemmon’s article The Women of the Army Rangers’ Cultural Support Teams (2014) is a great read.
Veteran suicide is a very serious issue, one that has affected me as a friend, co-worker, supervisor, and Wingman. If you, or someone you know, is having thoughts of suicide, please reach out. Please get help.
Veteran Crisis Line: www.veteranscrisisline.net
Military One Source: www.veteranscrisisline.net
Stitched Up Heart (Combat Hearts Book 1) Page 27