One Christmas: (BBW Military Romance) (One Soldier Series Book 3)

by Christin Lovell

  Studying her picture, I let my thoughts wander. Was I really saying what I thought I was saying?

  Feeling my brows crease, I honed my gaze on the woman in the photo.

  Crap. I really was.

  When I was sixteen, I asked my dad how he knew my mom was the one. At the time, I was in a relationship with a girl I thought I loved. I would never forget his answer. “She was the first woman I could see every detail of my forever with.”

  I could see it all with Jane. She would resist me at first, probably had been because she didn’t think I was serious; she probably believed I hadn’t thought it through long term. She probably had some frivolous fear that her getting more wrinkled and grey before me would be a turn off. Hell, she probably expected me to run at some point and do the same thing her ex did.

  But I wouldn’t. Deep down, I just knew she was different. The same instinct that guided me in the field was telling me that I wasn’t wrong, that I wasn’t imagining it.

  I could see us adopting a couple children, those same kids running to hug Haylee when she returned home. I could see her dad and mine drinking a beer on the back porch while they grilled some steaks for the family. I could see myself being a social worker in Atlanta, both of us working long hours every day for different goods and coming home to each other every night.

  I could see her lounging around the house in her black velour pants and a tank top and I could see myself enjoying the view of her assets in them. I could see myself marrying her and being happy.

  She made me smile. Every single one of her letters gave me a goofy grin for days, to the point where the guys nicknamed me Smiley. It was a ridiculous dub, but it fit the bill. No other woman had that affect on me, and I’d done my fair share of bed hopping.

  Jane had been the only one to stick around, and was the only one I wanted to stick around.

  Fuck it. I was going. The moment I got word we were going home, I was booking a flight to Atlanta, no matter the date. She could deflect and change the subject all she wanted in a letter, and I couldn’t do much about it. But in person, I could call her on her every attempt and hopefully bring her back into my corner.

  One way or another, I was going to prove that I wanted her, and I wouldn’t leave until she not only acknowledged it but also accepted it as the truth it was.

  Checking the clock, I sat up, put the photo back in its safe spot and headed to the tent in the center of our camp.

  I sat down a few seconds before Compton.

  “Fifty push-ups, Compton,” Major Hardass ordered. He’d been waiting, expectantly for us.

  The first year soldier sighed, but dropped down and began the grueling set.

  Together, the rest of us counted his dips. It took him a solid three minutes to get through the exercise; it was obvious he was struggling on the last ten. Compton wasn’t the most athletic soldier, but, then again, we had walked ten miles today with a good seventy-pounds on our backs that felt like double by the end of the day.

  “Took ya’ long enough.” Major Hardass glared at him. “Sit,” he barked.

  Compton immediately plummeted into a nearby chair.

  Whitton slapped Compton’s back. “You survived,” he pretended to cheer for the newbie.

  Major Hardass cleared his throat. “Are you done, or would you like fifty as well so you can celebrate in your tighty whities later?”

  A few snickers ensued.

  The Major stared deadpan at us, not a glint of amusement in sight. “Now, more than before, I’m happy to tell you lot of fools that you’re going home. You’ll be flying out to Germany on December 21st.” Without missing a beat, he continued. “Before you turn into a bunch of dancing hippies and lose the half a brain you have left, all of you have paperwork. Do not, under any circumstances, leave without filling it out, or I will personally show up on your doorstep.”

  I straightened in my chair. This was the news I’d been waiting for.

  “Finally.” Joe pinched my shoulder, a big grin splitting his face. “Jenny is going to shit herself. She was just telling me that she’ll be ovulating on Christmas.”

  I shook my head. “Only you would celebrate going home because your wife is ready to lay an egg.”

  “Fuck, yeah. That’s guaranteed pussy, man; no ‘I’m tired’ excuse.” He grunted. “I can’t fucking wait to hit that.” He squeezed my shoulder rhythmically for a moment. “So, what about you? You gonna hit up that hot number that’s been writing you?”

  “Jane?” I quirked a brow.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “The curvy cougar.”

  Meeting his gaze, I bit back a smirk. “Yeah, I am. I’m gonna go for it.”

  “That’s what I’m talkin’ about. Get it, Smiley.” He wagged his brows and jutted his chin, a nod of approval to my decision.

  I was going. I was taking a risk. She could very well slam the door in my face. Hell, she could not even be home.

  But I was going anyways. I was going to get my curvy cougar.

  And that’s exactly how I thought of her already: as mine.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jane

  December 23rd, 2014

  Keeping the phone pressed to my ear with one hand, I grabbed my mug of hot chocolate off of the side table before curling into the side of the sofa again. “You know, it’s not too late to come home, honey.” I gently blew on the steaming brew before chancing a sip.

  “Mom.” It was an exaggerated drone. “I was just there for Thanksgiving. And you know I’m spending Christmas with Andie’s family. They live five minutes away from the college and she’s uber excited that I’m coming. Plus, I told you about having the professor from hell next semester. She posted a massive assignment due the first day.”

  I barely suppressed my sigh, staring at the blue flame in the brick fireplace. “I know. I miss you; that’s all.”

  “I miss you, too, Mom. Legit.”

  Her words went straight to my core, warmth spreading through me. My face split into a smirk. “Well, legit, I hope you finish your assignment in time to at least spend New Years with me.”

  “Ew. Mom. No. Don’t use that word. Seriously. It doesn’t sound right coming from you.”

  I heard the groan in her voice. Puckering my lips, I conceded. “Okay. I’ll go back to talking like an old maid.”

  “Thank you.” She giggled but quickly quieted. “For real, though. I do miss you. It’s not the same being on my own, but I do like it.” She was doing remarkably well. She spent more time studying than partying, and had passed all of her first semester courses with flying colors. She was also diligent with her budget, much like me, and stretched every dollar better than most students.

  “I’m always here if you need me.” It was a gentle reminder that I hoped she took to heart.

  “I know, and I love you for it.” There was a few muffled voices in the background that seemed to grow louder. “Hey, Mom, let me let you go for now. A few of us are going to head over to Starbucks to hang out for a little while.”

  “Okay, honey. Have fun. I love you.” I waited, on the cusp, to hear those words from her.

  “Love you, too. Bye.”

  Before I could say anything more, the call ended. It was hard no longer being first in her life, but, part of letting go was coming to accept that fact. My little girl wasn’t my little girl anymore.

  When Haylee was young, I looked forward to my golden years, as I referred to them, the years when I would be free to do as I pleased without consideration of anyone else. This was supposed to be that time, but all I could do was wander around the house, looking for something to clean, searching for even one more article to wash.

  I wasn’t used to an open schedule outside of work. I felt, well, lost. I hadn’t realized how much purpose Haylee had given me, how much her needs dictated my workload at home, how often she occupied my schedule. I’d known, but I didn’t truly know until now.

  Perhaps if I had someone to share my time with, someone to come home to, som
ething to do, a hobby, a membership, a book club…a distraction of sorts, I wouldn’t feel quite so disoriented. I lacked focus, as of late, and the only time I could justify the effort of cooking was when Haylee was home. On the up side, those five pounds were gone; on the down side, I was more than a little restless. There were only so many erotic romance books one could read and only so many home improvement reality shows one could handle.

  Setting my phone aside, I went back to watching the Hallmark movie on the television mounted above the whitewashed fireplace. When Jeff moved out, I re-decorated the entire home in light, white colors with a touch of rustically romantic charm throughout. It was very Lauren Conrad.

  I felt my features turn down. Haylee would have scolded me for that reference. I wasn’t supposed to know any of the current, young celebrities or their resumes. In her eyes, I was trying to be younger than I was when I did, which she wasn’t overly comfortable with.

  Oh, the sacrifices you make for your children.

  My gaze drifted down to his photo again. It stood out in the group. It never ceased to catch my attention. There was something about him that seemed to reach out and grab hold of me, causing me to lose minutes at a time.

  He was young, current, in Haylee’s eyes, but, for once, she didn’t reprimand me for gaping.

  The first time I put the photo up, a week after I received it, she’d asked questions, and I’d answered. – Who is he? How did you meet him? Do you, like, have a thing for him? – I was still surprised by how she responded.

  She met my gaze, her lips slightly upturned, a sparkle in her brown eyes. “Good for you, Mom. If he makes you happy, screw everyone else.”

  He made me happy, but not in the sense that she was referring to at the time. After Jeff, I had an impenetrable wall, one that no one had been patient enough to breech.

  Except Brad.

  Somehow, having never even met face to face, he’d slowly torn down that protective barrier between my heart and the rest of the world. He never let go; he never gave up. Letter after letter, he dropped little reassuring hints, reminded me where his head was.

  My abundant curves didn’t scare him, but his young, fit physique scared me.

  From a distance, we were compatible, because we chose our words carefully, thoughtfully. In person, most weren’t as cautious, calculating. Things that weren’t an issue prior suddenly were when your relationship progressed from fantasy to reality, or so Ginger relayed. They didn’t have any problems they couldn’t work through, but it was tougher than either of them expected, particularly since she was still struggling to get pregnant.

  My biggest fear was that he would regret his decision. Brad would be sacrificing far more than me for us to have a relationship. He would be letting go of certain goals most men had for the future, namely biological children. He’d said that didn’t matter, but, people changed their mind every day. People changed. Who I was ten years ago – happily married with a child in elementary school – wasn’t who I was today – permanently single with a child away at college.

  But there was something about him. I couldn’t deny that. There was something that drew me to him, like a moth to a flickering, yellow flame.

  And that’s where things became complicated. That’s where my head went in the logical, sensible direction of refusing to give in to anything with a ninety-percent chance of failure, and my heart went into the illogical, insensible direction of reasoning that if he was certain, then what did I have to lose.

  A lot.

  I shook my head, pulling myself out of my mental reverie. I was being ridiculous. He probably just had some cougar fantasy he wanted to live out, like most young boys had, at best. At worst, I could be a game to him. He could have been testing the waters, simply seeing if he could get the fat divorcee to cave.

  How pathetic could I be? I needed to stop this. I needed to get him out of my head.

  Curling both hands around the now-warm cup of cocoa, I took a hearty swig. Through the curtains, I could see the sun beginning to set outside. The already cold temperature would take a steep decline when the sun’s rays disappeared.

  Adjusting the blanket over my lap, I attempted to get lost in the cheesy, holiday themed, romantic movie. It’d been a tradition for Haylee and I to watch them non-stop the week leading up to Christmas since she was ten; essentially, since she was aware of boys in that way.

  A half hour passed, the sun fully set and I’d truly settled into a comfortable bliss when a knock sounded at the door. I hoped it wasn’t carolers, although I didn’t hear any singing voices in the distance.

  Moving the blanket aside, I stood, taking my empty mug with me. I dropped it in the sink on my way to the door. I was just about to open it when I realized I wasn’t exactly dressed to entertain. My hair was still semi-nice, albeit a bit wind-blown, from going into work for a half day.

  Rolling upwards, onto the balls of my feet, I peered through the peephole, but couldn’t see anything thanks to the festive wreath hanging on my front door. Dropping back down, I unlocked the door and pulled it ajar.

  And ten months worth of letters came rushing to the forefront of my mind as I came face to face with the man who’d written them.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Brad

  My heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. Damn. She looked even better in person, which was a rarity. Typically, women ended up being bigger and less attractive than their pictures portrayed, but, with Jane, it was the opposite. She was still extra curvy, but seemed slightly thinner, more defined than before, in her mid-section, and far more beautiful, despite wearing dark sweatpants, thick, white socks and a thin, white tee that read, ‘Coffee first’ in bold, black letters followed by ‘Everything else second’ in smaller letters on a new line.

  As in her photo, her hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders. Her lips were full, with a touch of a red tint lingering, possibly from her lipstick. Most shocking were the glasses she wore. They had a thick black frame around oversized lenses that were quirky yet cute on her. They took away a few years.

  And then, she smiled. “Hello, Soldier.”

  Fuck almighty, she was stunning when she smiled. Even Major Hardass wouldn’t be able to resist her charm. “Hi, gorgeous.” I winked, hoping to cover up the crack in my voice.

  Shit. I didn’t expect to be so taken with her. I couldn’t help but stare like an obsessed teenager. She was more than I expected, and yet she wasn’t.

  “Do you always pop up at random women’s homes?” There was a glint of mischief in her depths.

  I couldn’t bite back my grin. “Only yours, babe.”

  She dropped her gaze, her cheeks coloring. She was fucking adorable.

  Not wanting to push her quite yet, I gave her a moment to regain her composure.

  Her gaze flickered to me. She gently worked her bottom lip, considered me through hooded lashes. “You shouldn’t flirt with every woman you happen upon.”

  Let the games begin.

  “You’re not every woman.”

  She chuckled. “And you’re not every man.”

  Just then, a breeze blew through. I watched as she shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.

  Taking a step to the side, she motioned me in with her head. “Come on in, Soldier.”

  I hefted my oversized backpack up on one shoulder before grabbing my overstuffed duffle bag. Regardless of how much I took with me on each tour, I always returned with luggage that was ready to split at the seams.

  I slipped past her, turning to watch her as she closed the door behind me and locked it, a habit I was sure.

  Damn. Who knew sweat pants could look so good on a woman. Her ass filled and stretched the material nicely.

  Shit. Bending, I set my bags on the wood floor, and used the opportunity to readjust myself. The uniform was forgiving, but didn’t conceal a hard on well. Removing my hat, I let it land on top of my duffle bag.

  As she turned, and we came face to face, the moment felt surreal.
This was the woman I’d fallen for over the last ten months, standing right in front of me. I found myself wanting to close in on her, to converge on her. I had to fight the urge to kiss her in one sweeping move. I didn’t want to scare her off. She wasn’t running, but she was still a flight risk at this point.

  “If I’d known you were coming, I would have dressed a little better.” She folded her arms over her chest again. “Are you hungry, thirsty maybe? Do you want me to make you anything?” She was exactly how she portrayed herself in her letters. She was always worrying about everyone else first, despite what her shirt said.

  Shaking my head negatively, I issued a polite, but firm, “No. Thank you.” Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I pulled the material away from the pressure in my groin. She was definitely fuck worthy. I couldn’t wait to lose myself in her.

  A moment of silence passed.

  She swallowed, searching me. “Why don’t we go sit in the living room?” Her lips curled ever so slightly at the edges.

  With a nod, I gestured for her to lead the way.

  Her house was feminine. It looked like something out of magazine, but was still inviting and warm, like the woman who lived in it.

  I bit my lip as she sauntered ahead of me. Fuck. Her hips and ass swayed in a seductive cadence, further teasing my stiff cock higher. I knew it was inadvertent on her part, but that didn’t lessen the affect her actions had on me. I could only imagine what it would be like to drive into her from behind, her ass slapping my groin every time I rammed into her sweet pussy.

  Forty-two or twenty-two, I wanted her. I wanted to experience every single inch of her. I wanted to taste her, tease her and please her sweet curves.

  Jeff wasn’t just an asshole; he was the biggest idiot on the planet.

  Sitting on the sofa, she pulled the blanket over the lower half of her curves. Two chairs created a U-shape with the sofa in front of the fireplace.

  I did a double take, making a beeline for the mantel. My photo sat in a frame among others I could only assume were family and friends. Carefully extracting the picture of me from the group, I spun to look at her. “Did I really earn a spot that fast?” I quirked a brow.