Marry Me, Marine

by Rogenna Brewer

“What’s a few weeks?”

  “In a few more months he won’t even remember he has a mother.”

  “He hasn’t forgotten you.” He’d kept his promise to her. “He’s a little confused right now, that’s all. Frankly, so am I.” Military schools were unaccompanied duty, meaning they didn’t pay for families to tag along.

  “It’s no longer your concern. I promised you a divorce when I got back and you’ll get it. Thank you for taking care of my son,” she said in clipped tones.

  But you’re no longer needed. He could hear it in her voice.

  “Where the hell is this coming from?” He backed her into her room. There was no good place to have this discussion, but the farther away from Ryder the better.

  “What?” She stumbled backward and jerked away from him when he reached out to steady her. He didn’t cross the threshold, just planted himself in the door.

  “All that anger directed at me.” He could feel his own temperature rising.

  “I’m not angry.”

  “You’re acting like it.”

  “Do you think this is easy for me? I know I’m making the selfish choice. Dragging him along for five months of extended stays in motel rooms. Just so we can spend evenings and weekends together.”

  She turned away. Resting her arms on the dresser, she buried her head in her hands.

  Hatch had done the math. She didn’t make enough to cover the expense of five months even in cheap weekly-rate motels and on-base day care. She had the money because she’d been saving almost half her paycheck for an entire year. She had no bills except for their shared phone plan.

  And he’d only tapped into their joint child care account for Ryder’s preschool, but those two days a week of interaction with other kids wasn’t much of an expense. And she hadn’t spent much of the rest of her pay while in Afghanistan.

  And wasn’t that the real reason right there?

  She’d just spent a whole year apart from her son.

  “I could come with you,” he suggested. “Help transition him.”

  She didn’t turn around. “What good would that do?”

  “Just a suggestion.”

  “You’d do that?”

  The gratitude in her eyes when she turned toward him was worth any price. Even his freedom? Where was that thought coming from?

  Maybe they shouldn’t be talking divorce right now. At least while she was in the service. He almost voiced the thought, but didn’t.

  “I appreciate the offer,” she said. “But it’s not necessary. And for what it’s worth, I’m not mad at you. I’m jealous.”

  “Jealous?” The word and all its connotations took him aback. He’d heard from someone who saw fit to tell him his wife was hanging around with Keith Calhoun. Probably someone who thought Hatch should kick the young pup’s ass. But he was cool with that. He wasn’t jealous.

  She should be seeing guys her own age.

  What did she have to be jealous about?

  “What’s your first memory, Hatch? In it are you four, maybe five years old? A child’s brain doesn’t develop the capacity for long-term memory until well after thirty-six months. So unless I’ve traumatized my son—dropping him off here or taking away his first puppy—time spent with you is going to be one of his first memories. Yeah, I’m jealous.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SOMEONE KNOCKED AT HIS bedroom door. Hatch stayed seated and seriously thought about ignoring that knock. Chances were it wasn’t his aunt. Or any of their guests who’d gone home hours ago.

  Ryder didn’t bother knocking. And Angela had no business knocking on his door after midnight.

  Especially not when things were running hot and cold between them. One minute she was angry, the next apologetic. And the next jealous.

  And really, it was all just adrenaline with nowhere to go. She’d been in a war zone for a year. While he’d been here watching her kid. If anyone had a right to be jealous it was him. He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  Damn headache. He couldn’t even blame it on the booze. He hadn’t had enough to get him drunk, let alone hungover.

  He knew the drill. Angela probably just wanted to say goodbye. He’d never been any good at goodbye. He usually broke up with his girlfriends weeks before deployments.

  To avoid those.

  Besides which, what else was there left for them to say to each other?

  Nice knowing you? Have a good life?

  With a weary sigh he let the other shoe drop and padded across the carpet in his socks. Shirt unbuttoned, belt unbuckled, he was still decent. He had on a T-shirt beneath his dress shirt and his pants were still up around his waist.

  But if she’d slipped into something sexy, well, all bets were off. He wasn’t going to be responsible for what happened next. He opened the door to find Angela halfway across the hall to her room.

  Looking very sexy in pajamas.

  “Was there something you needed?” he asked. He kept his voice low. The house was dark and quiet, but Ryder was just down the hall.

  Angela turned, and her smile seemed as uncertain as her stance. “Nothing.” The huskiness didn’t quite sound like her. “I just wanted to—”

  Biting down on her bottom lip, she sought his approval with her eyes.

  “Go back to bed,” he said, none too kindly.

  Her naked lips compressed to a fine line. “I just wanted to say goodbye and thank you. You’ll be filing for divorce once I’m gone?”

  “That was our deal.” He kept his expression benign.

  “I guess we won’t be seeing each other again. Until then, I mean.”

  “I’m sure our divorce can be handled through an attorney.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. Thank you, again. For everything.” She stepped in to kiss his cheek and he grabbed her, holding her back. His overreaction surprised them both, and they stared at each other.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked, still holding her at arm’s length.

  “No.”

  Not physically, maybe. But he had hurt her.

  He could see it in her eyes.

  “This is as far as we go,” he said, relaxing his grip. But he didn’t release her. And he honestly didn’t remember later which one of them stepped in next. One minute he was staring into those soulful green eyes and the next his mouth was on hers.

  Her kiss was soft. Sweet.

  She gave away her whole heart in that kiss.

  Gratitude.

  There was a special place in hell for men like him. Who took what was offered without conscience. He tried to remember what it was like to be in his twenties. To fall in and out of love so easily.

  She didn’t love him. Even after all this time, she didn’t know the first thing about him. She was grateful to him, that was all.

  But he’d tasted that longing before. Saw it in her eyes as he pulled back. The desire to love and be loved.

  That elusive promise of something more.

  “Go!” He cleared the harshness from his voice. “You should go.”

  ANGELA KNEW HE WAS RIGHT. She should go. He’d given her plenty of opportunity.

  But she’d come here for something. She couldn’t remember what because she’d never been kissed like that before. “I don’t want to,” she murmured against his mouth.

  Didn’t want to go? Didn’t want to save her kisses?

  Didn’t want to be sliding her arms around his neck and pulling his head back down for more.

  She ran her fingers through his short hair.

  He’d married her. Cared for Ryder. And asked for nothing in return. She didn’t have the words to tell him how much that meant to her.

  And to be honest, she was more than a little curious since she’d married him. Had taken the image of him in nothing but a towel all the way to Afghanistan.

  She didn’t know the significance of his tattoos, just that she wanted to trace those sleeves of ink from his collarbone down both arms.

  First with her fingertips, and then with her
lips.

  She pushed his dress shirt off his shoulders. Ripped at his T-shirt with impatience.

  He stopped her wandering exploration and brought her mouth back to his. The stubble on his chin felt rough against her smooth skin.

  Her cheek. Her neck. And lower.

  Her heart raced as he traced the strap of her pj’s and branded her shoulder. His hands slid up her waist to her ribcage, taking her top along with them.

  He stopped his trail of kisses long enough to lift the tank top over her head. His good eye glazed over as he tossed the top aside and looked down at her breasts with pure masculine appreciation. And then they were chest to chest, kissing again.

  She felt the cool metal of her dog tags.

  And the tickle of hair on his chest. Not enough to hide the definition. But enough to tease her fingertips as she reached for his waistband.

  He moved her backward toward the bed.

  The only boy she’d been with had been her age at the time, seventeen, with an underdeveloped and hairless chest. The only other thing she remembered about that night was how drunk they’d both been. And how much he’d hurt her both during sex and weeks afterward when she’d told him she was pregnant.

  Thank God she wasn’t that young and stupid anymore. She’d turned twenty-two in May, the week before Ryder’s birthday.

  But Hatch liked to draw attention to their age difference. He’d turned thirty-two in April. So she teased him about it now as she curled her palm around his erection. “Show me what you’ve got, old man,” she whispered in his ear.

  Thirty-two wasn’t old. Thirty-two was, oh, my God, experienced. And not shy about standing over her while taking off his pants. Thirty-two didn’t rush her as his knee hit the mattress by her hip. He scooted her up toward the pillow and slipped her pajama pants off at the same time.

  Thirty-two was all smooth moves.

  She didn’t tense up until she felt his other knee between her thighs. Holding himself over her, he reached into the nightstand for a condom.

  “I’m on the Pill,” she volunteered. She had been since shortly after Ryder was born.

  “That’s good to know, but a naive thing to say. You should always insist the guy wear a condom.”

  “More dating advice?” she teased. What a strange thing for a man to say to his wife, as they were about to make love for the first time. But he set the condom aside. “What happened to wearing a condom?”

  “A husband should have some privileges.” His voice was a husky rasp of desire.

  Propping himself up on his elbow, he took his duties as a husband very seriously. There wasn’t an inch of her body that he didn’t explore. Or an inch of his body that she didn’t come to know intimately. By the time he entered her, she was more than ready for him.

  She bit down on his shoulder so as not to embarrass herself with screaming. She’d never experienced anything like it before, let alone felt the need to tell the world about it.

  All she wanted at this moment was to lie here and languish in the afterglow.

  Stretched out on top of him, Angela watched as he kept trying to drift off to sleep. She knew she should let him. But she wasn’t ready to take that walk of shame back to her room.

  Where she’d realize allowing herself to feel anything at all for the man she’d married was a mistake. Big mistake. Since their marriage agreement included a preordained divorce. She stroked the scar on his brow, memorizing all the lines of his face.

  He lifted his hand, but didn’t try all that hard to stop her when she pushed that black leather patch off his handsome face. “If I have to be naked, you should be, too,” she told him.

  “I’m not going to argue with a woman who has her knee pressed up against my groin.”

  She compared his good eye to the other.

  This close she could tell the one was made of glass. For one thing, the pupil didn’t dilate and his real eye had adjusted for the dim lighting. And reflected his desire.

  “Am I looking at you funny?” he finally asked, when she didn’t look away.

  “I don’t know. Are you?” She laid her head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. Hard to believe she’d come here just to talk and now she was lying naked on top of him. Harder to believe that she could feel this satisfied and still want more. Want him.

  He stroked her thighs. Her bottom. Her neck.

  Leaving delicious trails of longing.

  She wanted him again so much it hurt.

  Her own heart skipped a few beats as she acknowledged that it wasn’t just his body she wanted. She wanted this connection. This feeling.

  She wanted it to be real. Even though she feared it wasn’t.

  She was leaving tomorrow. “Will you miss me?”

  When he didn’t answer, she lifted her head and propped her chin with her hands flat against his chest, prepared to wait him out. Because she wanted to hear him say he wanted her, too. She knew he wanted her, too.

  He took his time stroking her hair. “What is it you want?”

  “Hatch.” Her breath caught on his name.

  He pressed his fingers to her swollen lips. “Shh, besides that,” he murmured. “I know that’s what you think you feel. But it’s not.” He spoke with the same tenderness he’d spoken with all night, but his words left her cold. “I made you feel good. You made me feel good. Let’s leave it at that.”

  His hand at the small of her back felt warm against her cooling skin. Warmer when he cupped her bottom. And downright hot when he dipped between her legs.

  Heaven help her, she wanted him to keep on touching her like that. Which just proved his point. That he could make her body feel good.

  Oh, so good. She moaned from somewhere deep inside. And without hearing the words she longed to hear.

  He was right. She was being naive.

  Nobody fell in love after one night of passion.

  And damn him, didn’t he make her come again, and this time with just the talents he had at his fingertips.

  She bit her bottom lip. Do not cry in front of him. All this sex had been her idea to begin with. But she wanted to burst from everything she was holding inside. She had nowhere to go with what she was feeling.

  His hand slid up her spine to her nape.

  He pulled her head down for a kiss and rolled over on top of her. “All you have to do is ask.”

  “I don’t know what it is I want.”

  “Yes, you do.” He stared down at her. “And just so we’re both clear, you didn’t have to sleep with me to get it. Why don’t we put off the divorce indefinitely? At least until you’re out of the service.”

  “I need you.” She reached up to touch the scar that cut through his eyebrow. He probably hated that. And the way his lid drooped more than the other. She thought it looked sexy.

  She reached up and kissed him then. But this time was different. This time he took without giving back.

  She wished she could say she didn’t come as he pumped into her. But he was right. There was love and then there was lust. He found his release and she rode it all the way to the end.

  “JUST STOPPED BY to see how you were doing,” Stew said as he entered the big equipment barn. His voice echoed in the mostly empty steel structure. “Haven’t seen much of you lately.”

  Hatch rolled out from underneath the Caddy and wiped the oil stains from his hands.

  Maddie had given Angela her old Honda CRV to drive to Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, eight weeks ago. The Marines did their military police training with the army. And their dog handler training at Lackland Air Force base in San Antonio, Texas.

  “Doing all right.” He sat up and scrubbed Blue behind the collar. Content just to be near him, the puppy settled back on his haunches and then lay down.

  Hatch made sure the dog got a good workout in their twice-daily training sessions. But by far the pup’s favorite pastime was chore time, when he followed Hatch out into the field to check on the herd.

  Ryder would be disappointed to
learn these loyal breeds tended to have only one master.

  “Quiet around here,” Stew commented.

  He meant without the boys running around.

  “About time I had some peace and quiet.” Hatch tossed the rag aside and pushed himself to his feet.

  “Have you heard from her?”

  Not as often as he’d like. He didn’t like to dwell on her leaving. She may have been his for a night, but she’d never been his to keep. “They’re doing fine.”

  “Did she ever say why the switch to MP? I mean, nobody gets guaranteed dog handler school.”

  “She’s part of a new program to train an all-Afghani-female militia. From what I understand she was pulled into it, not voluntarily. The Marines were training a local group when Afghani women started showing up demanding to be armed and trained. The Marines sent them away.”

  Hatch closed the hood of the Cadillac and leaned against the car. “The insurgents found out about this group of women. Kidnapped the eight-year-old son of one of them and killed him. The next day double the number of women showed up demanding to be trained, including the mother carrying her dead son.”

  Stew shifted uncomfortably. “I can’t imagine.”

  “The MPs on duty didn’t know what the hell to do, either. They sent someone back to base to grab the first two available female Marines, which happened to be Angela and another mechanic.”

  Hard to believe he was talking about the same scared girl with the broken-down Caddy.

  “Anyway, I guess they liked the way she handled herself, and offered her the chance to be part of this military training of Afghani females.”

  Pride and fear waged within him whenever Hatch thought about her in this new position.

  “So did you get all settled in at the new place?” he asked. He had helped the Stewarts move into their new home the weekend after Angela and Ryder left.

  “I’m not tripping over boxes anymore, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Good. Because I’ve been to the bank and there’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Five years later