First to Fight Box Set: Books 1-5

by Nicole Blanchard

  “Well,” he says as he reaches down to tug off his shoe to show her his foot, “First, I need to know if you’ve ever been to the doctor.”

  Leanne sucks in a surprised breath, and her eyes are about as wide as golf balls as she tentatively touches his foot. “Yes. I have. I have!”

  “Well, my leg was very, very sick, and I had to go to the doctor to make it all better.”

  “Did he give you medicine? I hate medicine.”

  “I did get a lot of medicine, but only because I needed it. If I didn’t have it, I would have hurt real bad.”

  “Because of your leg?”

  “That’s right. It was so sick, I couldn’t use it anymore, so the doctor gave me this one to help me walk.”

  Leanne peers down at her hand stroking his metal ankle, her expression solemn. When she speaks, her voice is small and sad. “I’m sorry your leg hurt real bad.”

  Then she leans down and presses her lips to his ankle. I hear Scott’s sound of surprise and find him, eyes shining and staring at her with a look of utter disbelief. Leanne straightens, and Scott pulls her into his lap for a long hug. Completely forgotten, I back away under the pretense of giving them a moment.

  I need to get myself back together.

  I make a beeline for the bathroom where I can get a handle on my emotions in solitude. With a sigh of relief, I push open the door and find my grandpa sitting on the toilet seat with a coffee mug full of eggnog.

  I push my fingers through my hair and tug a little to push back the irritation before I lean against the doorjamb and pin him with a look. “Hiding from Grandma?”

  “That woman doesn’t understand a man needs personal space.”

  Smothering a smile, I take the mug from him and down its contents in one gulp. “Probably because you don’t understand the concept of moderation.”

  He grumbles but gets to his feet anyway. “Can’t a man just have some peace and quiet?”

  “Absolutely.” I wrap an arm around his shoulders and lead him to his bedroom. “Why don’t you lie down for a little while, and I’ll have Mom bring you some hot chocolate as soon as it’s ready.”

  I take the blanket draped across the foot of the bed and spread it out over him. “You rest, okay?”

  “Okay, Faith.” He reaches a hand up and cups my cheek. “I’m glad you came.”

  Guilt rolls in and my shoulders slump as I think about how adamant I’d been to stay away for the holidays. I lean into his hand and close my eyes. “I’m glad I came, too.”

  “I’m just going to close my eyes for a bit, but don’t tell your granny.”

  I brush his snowy hair back from his forehead. “I won’t, I promise.”

  He curls up against the pillow, and his eyes flutter shut. Within seconds, he’s asleep and snoring softly, giving me a second to collect myself.

  It’s painfully obvious that I have been hiding from Scott because of my own hurt feelings, and it’s foolish. He’s not a bad man. He did nothing wrong.

  It’s hopeless. A year has passed, and I haven’t forgotten him. Couldn’t if I tried.

  I go to the bathroom of grandpa’s room and splash some water on my face. When I feel like I’m in control of my emotions, I peer out into the hallway and find it empty.

  Sounds of laughter and conversation drift from the kitchen. Mom and everyone else must still be cleaning up after dinner. I start toward it to help them out, but a voice from the living room has me changing direction.

  “Momma Momma can’t you see,

  What the Corps has done to me?

  Put me in a barber’s chair,

  snip, snap and I had no hair.”

  I turn toward it and take a step closer, wanting to hear more of whatever Scott is singing softly to Leanne. At first, I think it’s a Christmas carol, which would make sense, but the words aren’t like anything I’ve ever heard before.

  “Put a Ka-Bar in my hand,

  Taught me how to kill a man.

  Put me in a combat zone,

  Made me think a lot about home.”

  I cover my mouth with a hand to stifle the laughter. It must be a military thing. My dad used to hum the Corps’ cadences, too. Mom had a fit because they aren’t kid-friendly—but they always made me smile.

  “I thought about my mom one night,

  Then a loud bang, and I saw a light.

  Then Saint Peter said to me,

  your new place of duty is to guard me.”

  Around the corner, I find Scott standing next to the soft light from the Christmas tree. Leanne is curled in his arms against his chest, her eyes drifting closed as he sings in her ear. Her little first is curled next to her face, and Scott is staring down at her slumbering form, his attention solely on her.

  “So if I die in a combat zone,

  Box me up and ship me home.

  Pin my medals upon my chest,

  Tell my momma I did my best.”

  The man can sing, and it’s just one more hammer swing to the place deep inside me I’d been protecting ever since we first kissed. I find I can’t look away.

  “Make sure they bury me deep,

  And lay crossed rifles at my feet.

  Tell Susie not to cry,

  Cause the Marine Corps way is to do or die.”

  Leanne’s mom, Sylvia, enters the room, her head swiveling from side to side until her eyes land on Scott. She opens her mouth to speak, but she closes it again when she hears Scott singing. Her expression softens, and she waits, eyes shining, as Leanne’s body settles into sleep.

  As the cadence comes to an end, Scott strokes a thumb over Leanne’s cheek and looks up, spotting her mom.

  “Guess she was ready for a nap,” she says.

  Scott crosses to her, and they carefully transfer Leanne to her mother’s arms. “You have a sweet girl here.”

  Sylvia smiles. “Thank you, I might just keep her. Do you have any kids?”

  His smile falters, but Sylvia’s still staring at her sleeping daughter so she doesn’t notice. “No, I haven’t had the pleasure.”

  She looks up. “You’ll be a good dad. You’ve clearly got a way with them. Leanne doesn’t normally respond so well to people who aren’t her parents.”

  I can’t be sure because of the dim lighting, but I think he blushes. The last of my resistance fades away. Sylvia totes a still-sleeping Leanne out of the living room, and before I can come back to my senses, Scott looks up.

  Scott

  Haloed by the light coming in from the hallway, Faith pauses at the entrance, her expression rapt, but otherwise unreadable.

  Shit.

  My insides are raw and aching after a conversation with a kid one-fourth of my size, and the last thing I want to do is throw down with Faith some more. If she brushes me off again, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.

  Leanne’s mom disappears in the other direction, and I follow her, needing space, but Faith stops me with a soft, “Wait,” and my body responds to her request automatically. I don’t turn back to look at her, because if I do, I won’t be able to keep my hands off her.

  Feet planted, voice stiff, I say, “I’m just gonna go see if your mom needs help with anything else.”

  Music hums on low from somewhere else in the house. The fire in the fireplace crackles with warmth. Suddenly, the only thoughts in my mind are of the short time we spent together and the things I would have done differently.

  “So you’ve been trying to talk to me all night, and the first time I want to actually have a conversation, you’re running away?”

  This time, I do turn toward her. My fingers twitch by my sides, itching to reach out and pull her closer. “You’ve made it clear enough you don’t wanna talk.”

  “I—” She clears her throat. “I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting.”

  I hold up a hand. “You have nothing to apologize for. I was kind of a dick last year, which is what I’ve been trying to tell you all night.”

  “You weren’t a dick.�
�� I give her a pointed look, and she rocks on her heels, a sweet little smile teasing at her lips. “Okay, maybe a little, but I don’t blame you for backing off.”

  The music coming from the kitchen swells, and I think back to my conversation with Leanne, about telling her of my leg and her sweet, uninhibited reaction. Like Faith, she accepted me without prejudice, without pity or judgment.

  It pains me to admit I expected to see that same pity in Faith’s eyes when she saw my leg for the first time. I wonder how many other people I’ve judged before ever letting them draw their own conclusions. The one glance I took at her after I rolled up my pant leg was curiosity and maybe concern, but she didn’t pull away or stare in horror like I feared she would. I almost laugh at my own stupidity and cowardice. I can face grown men determined to kill me, but the threat of showing weakness to a woman had me running in the opposite direction.

  Not anymore.

  I take a step toward her and wrap her hand in mine. Has her skin always been so soft? I marvel at how petite her fingers are in comparison. How her pale skin contrasts with my sun-browned fingers. Words failing me, I tug her closer and her smile fades, her eyes inquisitive. For a long pause, I study our hands, running my fingers up the center of her palm until I hear her breath catch.

  “What are you doing?”

  Her voice breaks the spell, and I relinquish her hand in favor of more interesting areas of study. I grip her waist and pull her into my arms, pleased to find her breathing uneven. She’s so surprised it doesn’t even occur to her to pull away.

  “Shh,” I say softly, my lips finding the shell of her ear. “Trying to listen.”

  Her head tilts, and then her body melts against mine as she recognizes the Christmas music. The tinny notes can be heard over the din in the next room and a throaty voice croons. My free hand goes around her waist, and her hand moves to lie flat over my heart. Seconds pass and she relaxes against me in increments as I slowly shuffle in small circles to the music. I focus my mind half on something else to keep from pulling a dip-shit move like leaning in to see if her hair still smells the same or if she’d let me pull her even closer.

  “I almost called you a thousand times,” she says, looking down at our feet.

  My fingers tighten around hers, and I curse myself again for being such an insecure prick. “I would have answered.”

  “You think so?”

  I let out a breath. “Look, I was in a bad place. I think that’s pretty self-evident. I was pissed off at the world. I’d lost my parents. My future. Everything I’d ever wanted or dreamed of for myself . . . was just gone. Don’t get me wrong, I’d do it again for my country and the men I served with, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t kill a part of me when I got hurt.”

  “Believe it or not, I do understand.”

  I pull back to look at her, and she meets my eyes without hesitation. “Yeah, I think you might.”

  “Which I would have told you last year before you basically pushed me out the door.”

  I laugh. “You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

  She sends me a sultry smile. “Let’s just say I wished for Santa to give you something a little worse than coal in your stocking this year.”

  “I probably deserve that.”

  Our bodies brush, so I only half hear her response. “You definitely do.”

  “I wouldn’t have been good for you if we’d got together then.”

  “No?”

  “Unless you wanted a night of meaningless sex and a brush off for breakfast.”

  A flush paints her cheeks. “Not sure what it says about me, but in case you didn’t realize at the time, I wasn’t saying no to sex with you, Scott.”

  The mere mention of sex brings up all the erotic configurations I’d like to have her in. Then I look at her face, and everything I was going to say gets tangled. I wet my lips to speak, even then, I stammer like a man who's never had a woman in his arms. “I-I don’t know what to say to that.”

  She giggles. “I like seeing you speechless.”

  Her laughter makes me smile and washes away all the apprehension that I’ve been dealing with about seeing her again. “I’m sure you do. Take it in, cause it won’t happen often.”

  Her arms shift until they wrap around my neck, the movement causing our bodies to brush. Her scent surrounds me, and I breathe it in, pleased to find it’s still the same as it was a year before. The room around us, already dim from the soft lighting, grows even darker as our surroundings fade into nothing.

  “Oh, it won’t?” she asks, breaking me free from the lurid fantasies that resurface.

  “What?”

  “I like to think I’ll have plenty of opportunities to shut you up.”

  “Is that a fact?”

  She’s giggling as my lips close over hers, and I’m smiling for what feels like the first time in forever. I inhale once through my nose, which only serves to enthrall me more securely under her spell. It’s only a moment of hesitation, but she’s on to me, I think. She’s found my weak spot, and she’s not going to let me gather myself back together to go on the offensive.

  No.

  She presses closer to me, slanting her lips across mine and deepening the kiss.

  The music fades as the sound of blood vacating my brain for areas south fills my ears. I thought I remembered what it was like to kiss her, really kiss her. I didn’t remember shit.

  Somehow my hands knot themselves at the waist of her sweater. At least a part of me, even on a subconscious level, knows to ground myself in some fashion. I had it completely wrong. I shouldn’t have worried about how she’d react to my injuries. I shouldn’t have given her the chance to walk away. I should have taken her to bed and never let her go. My fingers twist, rumpling her sweater and making her moan against my lips as the memory of her walking the short distance back to her parents’ house resurfaces. God, I’m such a fucking idiot.

  I break from her to murmur the words against her lips, but she smiles and nips at my mouth. “This is the part where you shut up,” she says before pulling me back down.

  Figuring she has a good point, I use my grip on her sweater to pull her closer and twine my arms around her waist. Any sense of finesse has gone out of the window. The only thing left is basic need. To have her skin under my hands, her taste on my tongue, the sound of her whimpers in my ear.

  Once I’m sure she’s not going to escape, I regain my footing, I remember all the things that drove her crazy the last time we kissed, and I exploit them with a ruthlessness I didn’t know I possessed. Having tasted the possibility of life without the spark of light she radiates, I realize I’m hard-pressed to let it escape again.

  “Ah-hem.”

  I almost lift my head, but she bites down on my bottom lip, causing me to growl into her mouth. I attack her lips with renewed vigor, my hands tangle in her hair, and I go all out with lips and tongue and teeth. I want her to be as crazed and as wild with need as I am.

  “Ah-hem.”

  She pulls away first, her body going taut against me. After a brief pause so my brain can catch up, I glance over and find her mother standing in the doorway that leads to the kitchen. Behind her, I can see the bobbing faces of the rest of Faith’s family. Her father, uncle, brother and sister. Even Leanne’s mom. They’re all staring at us with huge grins.

  Faith

  “Hi, mom,” I say, extremely conscious of my stinging and swollen lips as I turn to face her. “Um, the tree’s finished.”

  She studies the two of us, and her lips twitch. “I can see that.”

  “Did you need something?”

  Scott puts more room between us, and I reach for him without a second thought, finding his hands and pulling him closer. He squeezes mine and whispers, “I’m not going anywhere,” in my ear just loud enough for me to hear him. Reassured, my shoulders relax.

  “The kids want to open presents now. I came in here to see if the two of you . . .” She pauses and gives us a significant look. �
��If the two of you were quite finished yet.”

  Scott makes a strangled sound behind me, and I fight the urge to laugh. “Yes, we uh—we’re done.” Inspiration strikes, and the words trip over themselves to get out. “Actually, Scott and I are going to head to his house to get some of his decorations. I thought it’d be a good idea to include some of his family’s ornaments on the tree, too.”

  At my words his hands constrict over my own, and his breath hitches in my ear.

  “What a wonderful idea!” my mom exclaims. “You two run along.” She turns to find the rest of my family standing behind her. “What are you all staring at? It’s time for presents!”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Scott says from behind me and tugs on my hand.

  With a last glance at my family, that’s now filing into the living room to descend on the presents, I follow Scott out onto the porch.

  “I am so sorry about that. My family can be crazy, if you haven’t already noticed.”

  “You don’t have to apologize.” He helps me over a bit of icy road as we cross to his house. “Your family may be crazy, but they’re yours. I think they’re great.”

  “Well, they love you, that’s for sure.”

  He grins back at me as he opens his door. “That’s because I’m so lovable.”

  “Bullshit!” comes a masculine shout from the direction of his living room.

  Scott winces. “I forgot to tell you, I’ve got company.”

  “You do?”

  Curious, I peer around the corner, but I don’t see anyone. Then a head appears on the other side of the couch. I give a small squeak of surprise and the man grins.

  Scott places a hand on my hip and gestures with the other. “Faith, this is Ford. Ford, meet Faith.”

  “Well, hello beautiful,” he says as he gets to his feet.

  “Hi,” I say shyly. “It’s so nice to meet one of Scott’s friends. Do you volunteer with him?”

  Ford leans a hip on the couch. “Nah, I worked with him in the Marines. We were stationed together in Afghanistan.”