Marry Me, Marine

by Rogenna Brewer

  “Boyfriend?” he pressed as her thumbs moved across the screen.

  “Yeah, I have a boyfriend and a husband.”

  “In name only. You can have as many boyfriends as you want.”

  “It’s my new BFF, Mia,” Angela confessed, putting the phone away. “I have a kid. A seventy-seven-year-old grandmother. And until recently two jobs. When would I have time for a boyfriend?”

  “You’re going to want that divorce sooner than you think,” Hatch replied. “Just make sure he’s one of the good guys and has a couple years and a couple pay grades on you.”

  “Are you giving me dating advice?”

  Hatch hung the dish towel on the oven door. “Something else to keep in mind,” he said, moving to the refrigerator for a beer. “When a military man says he’s separated, he could be talking geography.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “And stay away from Special Ops.” He twisted the cap of his beer and gestured with the bottle.

  She choked back a laugh. “Aren’t you a Special Ops guy?”

  “Divorce rates are higher,” he noted as a matter of practicality. “Assuming you plan to do this only one more time.”

  “How is it you made it to thirty and never married?”

  “Marriage is no guarantee of anything,” he said.

  But he figured that someday she’d want the kind of commitment that was supposed to be part of the package. And as far as he was concerned, the sooner he got her off his hands the better. Because Jessie hadn’t been far from his thoughts today, he couldn’t help the protective surge he felt sending Angela out into the worldwide web of military men.

  Maddie stepped into the kitchen just then. “Should we have dessert in the dining room? Or is it cozier here in the kitchen?”

  “I couldn’t eat another bite,” Angela protested as Hatch’s aunt got out the serving plates for her famous peach pie. “Thank you for your hospitality, but I really need to get going.”

  “We can’t let you drive all that way tonight. Clay?” His aunt turned to him for backup. “Talk some sense into this girl.”

  BENEATH THE METALLIC-PINK hood of the Cadillac, Angela watched as Hatch switched out the water pump. Daylight faded to the west in pretty ribbons of orange and blue.

  “Back home they call that Bronco sky. For the Denver Broncos.” With the fading light came a drop in temperature, and she shoved her hands deeper into her vest pockets. “Do you follow football at all?”

  He glanced over his shoulder toward the sunset. “Means a cold snap is coming.”

  “Did you play in high school?” she persisted.

  “Didn’t have time for sports.” This time when he looked up, he peered over at her. “Feel free to wait in the truck.”

  He’d left his vehicle running, with the high beams shining on the car, doors open—and radio booming a mix of pop rock, hip-hop and contemporary country. His taste in music seemed as eclectic as his skills.

  “I’m fine.” She ignored the hint with a touch of guilt. He didn’t need her as a distraction. His fingers were probably numb from the cold. “Think we’ll get snow tonight? Bad enough to close the interstate?”

  In which case she really would be stuck in Wyoming. If she left no later than seven o’clock, she still had a chance to make it home tonight before Shirley missed her. Angela had been vague with her grandmother about this thing she had to do. She’d told her she’d be gone all day, and probably home late that night.

  Because she really didn’t want Shirley to stop her.

  “You really should consider staying in town tonight.”

  They’d had this discussion back at his aunt’s house, and both he and Maddie had valid points. But as tired as Angela was, she just wanted to get home. Kiss her son good-night, and fall into her own bed.

  She clamped her chattering teeth together while Hatch went back to work on the pump. The only real warm spot seemed to be right next to him. She stood as close as she dared, bouncing on her toes, twitching in time to Ke$ha. We R Who We R.

  He stopped tinkering. The socket wrench stilled in his hand. This time when he straightened to his full height, he set the tool aside with a heavy sigh and leaned against the Caddy.

  She stopped dancing. “What? I didn’t say a word.”

  He wiped his hands on the dirty rag she’d used to surrender with, and tossed it aside. “Oh, you were talking, all right.”

  He dropped the hood with a thunk and handed her the keys.

  “You’re done?” It had taken him all of twenty minutes to change out the water pump. Even with her as a distraction.

  “That should get you home. Car needs an overhaul,” he added, more to himself than to her. He put the old pump in the box, picked up his tools and carried them back to his truck. “You have Maddie’s number?” Returning, he opened her car door for her.

  Angela stepped forward. “I’ll be fine.” She drew him into an awkward hug that he didn’t seem to know how to return. “Thank you.”

  “It’s been an interesting few hours, Angela Adams.”

  She climbed behind the wheel, but couldn’t shut the door because he stood there with one arm across the top of the window and the other on the roof. “I’m going to follow you to the state line,” he said.

  “That’s crazy.” Cheyenne was, like, a ten-hour round trip for him.

  “No, crazy is letting you drive off in this piece of crap, down a lonely stretch of highway, and having the sheriff show up at my door tomorrow because you didn’t make it home.”

  “You really are a worst-case-scenario thinker, aren’t you?”

  ANGELA ARRIVED HOME well after midnight, with ten pounds of venison and Maddie’s Swedish meatball recipe. Once inside the small apartment, she headed straight to the kitchen and shoved the meat into the freezer.

  If only she could put her emotions in cold storage that easily. The drive home had been physically exhausting. The entire day had been emotionally draining. And it wasn’t over yet.

  “Angela Anne Adams!” Shirley got up from the couch, where she’d been dozing off in front of the TV. Angela came and went at odd hours for work, so there was only one reason for her grandmother to use that tone of voice with her. “Where have you been?”

  Ryder reached for her from his playpen.

  He was wide-awake, with red marks where his cheek had rested on the mattress. A light sleeper, like his mother, he was often up when she got home from work.

  “I had something to do.” She picked up her son and moved down the hall toward the bathroom.

  Shirley followed. “Your boss called about your last paycheck. I know you got fired.”

  Angela had been a desk clerk at night and worked in housekeeping during the day for a small resort, until she’d fallen asleep on the job during a double shift. “Can we not talk about this now? I’m really tired.”

  “That’s always your excuse.”

  “That’s because I’m always tired.” She was even too tired to find anything amusing about Shirley’s bright orange hair in those dated pink rollers. “Could we have a real Thanksgiving dinner this year?”

  “What’s the matter with Denny’s?”

  “I’ll cook,” Angela volunteered, looking down at her son, but speaking to her grandmother. She could put off becoming a vegan until after the holidays. Until tonight she hadn’t even realized she’d been depriving her son of that family tradition.

  “Is something wrong? You know you can tell me anything.”

  “Don’t worry.” She thought of those flashing headlights in her rearview mirror on the outskirts of Cheyenne, where Hatch had let her know she’d continue on her own. “Everything will be all right from here on out.”

  “Oh,” Shirley said, as if she’d forgotten to mention something. “A Marine recruiter called this afternoon. Said he was passing a message along from someone named Hatch.” She lifted an eyebrow, though the surprise was on Angela. “Tell your friend Hatch thank-you for letting me know you were safe with hi
m in Wyoming.”

  Angela turned beet-red. She said good-night to her grandmother, glad to have that out in the open.

  “You’re getting heavy.” She turned her attention to Ryder. Sat him on the closed toilet seat while she ran warm water over a clean washcloth.She wrung it out and he held up a grubby hand with a candy heart that said Be Mine.

  “Where did you find that?” She cringed. “The couch cushions?” That candy had to be left over from Valentine’s Day, or, more likely, an after Valentine’s Day clearance.

  “Nana,” he said.

  “Oh, Nana Shirley.” Who needed to be scolded. And then it would be Angela’s guilt trip, because she hadn’t been here. And because she relied too heavily on her grandmother for her son’s care. Some days she felt like the worst mother.

  “You eat.” He shoved it at her.

  “You know just how to fix my broken heart, don’t you?”

  His smile lit up her night.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Six Months Later

  HATCH DROPPED THE PENCIL to the legal pad. “Thought she was supposed to be here by now.” Never mind that he’d canceled his trip to Cairo, Egypt, so that he would be. He could have used the infusion of cash that job would have given him.

  He ran a hand through his short hair, still not used to having a military cut again. He’d hate to admit he’d cleaned himself up after he found out she was coming.

  “Your impatience is showing.”

  The kitchen timer went off and his aunt pushed herself up from the dining room table. She patted his shoulder as she went to take the cookies out of the oven.

  “It’s these damn numbers giving me a headache.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, then below his eye patch. The ranch had been on the market for six months now without a single offer. The thought of lowering the asking price again killed him.

  His aunt walked back in and set a plate of peanut butter cookies in front of him—his favorite. She’d been baking all morning in anticipation of their guests’ arrival.

  Guests, my ass.

  “Thanks.” He ignored the cookies and went back to his calculations, none of which made any sense at this point. He scratched out the bottom line and pushed the legal pad aside, along with the plate of cookies.

  Years of supplementing his mother’s income on a military paycheck had put him behind financially. Since his return to Two Forks Ranch less than a year ago, he’d already spent close to $30K in back taxes and cleaning up the property. Another $15,600 in property taxes would be due in October unless he came up with a price low enough to interest someone into taking the place off his hands.

  He didn’t need the money as much as he needed to sell the property. He got by on his monthly military pension. Any money he made from the sale of the ranch would be for retirement. So why was he wrestling with dropping the price?

  As if he had a reason for wanting to hold on to Two Forks.

  Maddie angled the pad toward her for a better look. “What’s this?”

  Along with the new listing price, he’d been working through another problem that didn’t quite add up. His grandpa Henry had always said it took twenty acres of Wyoming scrub for every two cows, although conventional wisdom put that number at more like ten. There just wasn’t enough acreage left. At least, not for the operation the ranch had once been.

  But if Hatch could make enough to pay the property taxes year after year, it might be worth holding out until the economy turned around. Which the economists were saying could take another eight or nine years. He just had to determine his break-even point. And maybe he could even turn a profit if he increased the herd to the hundred and twenty or so head the ranch could sustain.

  “Didn’t Grainger offer to sell you a dozen weaned calves? It’d be a start.”

  “Not sure I’m up to losing the place all over again.”

  “You were fifteen,” his aunt said. “Quit beating yourself up. The responsibility wasn’t yours to begin with.”

  “It’d be at least two years before I could turn a profit on a calf.” But what else was he going to do with his time?

  He’d been forced to retire from the military at thirty.

  “Call the real estate agent and take the property off the market,” Maddie said, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket and handing it to him. “At least while you’re thinking about it. You’ll sleep better.”

  Hatch punched in the agent’s number. There was another reason now was not a good time to sell, and they both knew it. Just last week he’d been adding those personal touches that would make the house a home.

  He was in the middle of his conversation with the agent when he spotted Angela through the lace panel over the window in the front door. He stood up to conclude his business.

  “I’ve got it.” His aunt opened the door before Angela even had the chance to knock. “Look at you, as pretty as ever,” Maddie was saying. “And this must be Ryder. What a big boy you are.”

  Maddie bent to fuss over the youngster, and Hatch caught Angela’s gaze over their heads. To her credit, she could still look him in the eye after appointing him her son’s guardian.

  “Ryder, this is Aunt Maddie,” she said in introduction. “And this is Mommy’s friend Hatch. You remember me telling you about him, don’t you?”

  The three-year-old nodded.

  Hatch and the red-haired boy stared at each other with nothing much to say. Little kid. Big responsibility.

  Maddie took matters in hand. “Your mom tells me peanut butter cookies are your favorite.” The boy nodded and she ushered him into the kitchen for a glass of milk and cookies.

  “Hatch.” Angela crossed her arms, acknowledging him with a wariness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.

  She’d grown up some in the past six months. For one thing, she wasn’t that skinny kid anymore. She’d put on a good ten pounds of lean muscle in boot camp. And the tilt of her chin was confident rather than defiant.

  He’d kept tabs on her through Calhoun. She’d enlisted in the Marine Corps as soon as she’d returned to her home state. Made it all the way through boot camp to earn her Eagle, Globe and Anchor as a Marine.

  He could see that in the way she carried herself.

  Even in that breezy top and cropped jeans.

  The last time he’d seen her he’d been filling up her car at the pump for her trip home. After boot camp she’d sent him a polite thank-you note with a check for a hundred dollars for “expenses incurred” the day he’d married her. That was one way of putting it.

  But no mention of when it would be convenient for them to get that divorce.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. Now there was a familiar refrain. “There was one else for me to ask.”

  And here she was, apologizing to him. Because the only reason she was here at all was to use him again.

  He should say something in the way of condolences at her grandmother’s passing. He’d had to hear about it through Maddie.

  Apparently, Angela and his aunt, and Mia, for that matter, were Facebook friends. Which was the only reason he had even secondhand information about her.

  “I’m expected back in three days. They gave me only ten days’ emergency leave, and the funeral arrangements and travel here took up most of that.”

  “Sorry to hear about your grandmother.” There. He’d forced those first words out. Things had to get easier after that.

  “Thank you for the flowers.”

  He inclined his head.

  He didn’t know anything about any flowers. That must have been Maddie’s doing. Though she’d probably mentioned it to him. Probably even charged the flowers to his account. But he was so shell-shocked after learning Angela had named him her boy’s guardian.

  He didn’t know what to think.

  “I have some papers for you to sign.” She reached down for her folder at the same time he did. Their hands touched and she pulled back.

  Well, she still had something soft about her even if she was n
ow a Marine. But he shouldn’t be grabbing for her papers no matter how anxious he was to see what she’d committed him to.

  “This can wait,” he said, retrieving the folder and handing it to her. He picked up her bag and the boy’s Elmo backpack. “I’ll take these up to your room.”

  HE’D STOLEN ALL THE AIR from her lungs, and she wasn’t able to breathe again until he left the room. One big deep breath and she was ready to join Maddie and Ryder in the kitchen.

  Seeing Hatch shouldn’t have been this hard. They’d parted on relatively good terms. Neither of them had tried to remain in contact. And she’d paid him back. But he’d checked up on her through her recruiter.

  They’d had an unspoken agreement to respect each other’s privacy. Everything would work out in the end with an amicable divorce. But it wasn’t as if she’d put having a husband completely from her mind until a couple days ago, when she’d needed him again.

  Though she knew that was how it must seem.

  “Is he really okay with this?” Angela stood in Maddie’s kitchen, nibbling on a cookie. Because of little ears, she stopped herself from saying Hatch looked pissed.

  But he did look pissed, good and pissed, to her. If not for that and the eye patch, she wouldn’t have even recognized him. His cobalt-blue eye still captured her attention, but with his shorter hair, his face had become the focal point. She’d had no idea that that firm jaw and those set lips even existed.

  Let alone that he was handsome.

  Maddie smoothed Ryder’s hair. “What choice does he have?”

  Exactly. Angela hadn’t given Hatch one.

  She had been all set to deploy to Afghanistan when her grandmother had died of an aneurism, leaving Angela devastated and without a guardian for Ryder.

  The military had not only expected her to pick up the pieces of her life in a matter of days, but they’d demanded it. She’d been sitting in the Judge Advocate General’s office, not knowing what to do about appointing a new guardian for Ryder, when the JAG officer presented her with the simple solution.