Officer Breaks the Rules (Semper Fidelis. Always Faithful.)
Page 29
“And the other?”
He gave her a knowing smile. “I thought that was obvious. No? Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised, since I kind of botched shit up with us before.”
“Kind of?” Madison placed her hands on her hips, starting to resemble the spitfire he knew and loved.
“Okay, totally. I screwed up. But I’m male. It’s in our DNA to screw up. Just like it’s in the female DNA to forgive us our transgressions. So, you have to forgive me.”
“Have to, huh?” Taking a few steps forward, she stopped just in front of him. “Go ahead and spell it out for me. What’s the other important thing?”
“You. You’re the important thing. I love you. I’ve loved you longer than I ever wanted to admit, because it was terrifying to acknowledge that and know it would never go anywhere. But we can. I know you are set on staying in the Navy. If it’s what you want, I will be there for you one hundred percent.”
One corner of her lips tilted up. “You won’t feel bitter, following me around when I change duty stations? Waiting back here if I deploy?”
“Please. Will I get to do this whenever I want to?” Taking a chance, he reached around her back, hauled her to him, and kissed her until he had to catch his own breath.
She arched her back and looked up at him. “Anytime you want.”
“Then I’m good.” He kissed her again, not caring when a group of chatty nurses who hovered by the side door for a smoke break giggled.
Madison wrapped her arms around him, breaking off the kiss and burying her face in his shirt. “I missed you.”
“Missed you too, Mad.” Careful to not ruin her work-required bun, his fingers caressed the back of her neck. “Are you going to say it back?”
“Say what back?” she asked, laughter in her voice. He squeezed her nape a little and she squealed. “Okay, okay!” She looked back up at him. “I love you.”
He kissed her again, gently, fleetingly. “I love you too.” God, it felt good to say it out loud.
“You don’t expect me to move into that hellhole of an apartment, do you? Not even a woman’s touch could salvage that place.”
He chuckled. “No, I don’t. We’ll talk about it later.”
“Later?” she asked hopefully.
“Much later. Far as I’m concerned, we’ve got a forever’s worth of later.”
“Sounds good to me.”
From The Officer Says “I Do,” available now from Sourcebooks Casablanca
Chapter 1
Timothy O’Shay was positive of one thing.
He would be dragging his friends’ drunken asses out of a ditch before morning if things progressed the same way the rest of the night.
“Twenty!” Dwayne crooned next to him. Whenever D drank, his southern accent only became thicker until it was all twang. If someone wasn’t careful, they could easily take Dwayne for an idiot. Big mistake.
“Twenty-one. Sorry, sir,” the blackjack dealer said in a monotone voice before sweeping a crestfallen Dwayne’s chips away.
Somewhere else in the casino, a siren alerted to a slot machine winner. The sound seemed to rub the loss in Dwayne’s face as he scowled more.
“You’re going to lose everything you have on the last night in Vegas,” Jeremy warned. Not drunk, but plenty buzzed, he seemed to be slowly working his way toward the hammered side of life.
Since Tim had zero intention of using his last night of pre-deployment leave on babysitting their drunk asses—again—he shoved Dwayne until he tumbled out of the chair. “Grab some food to soak up the keg in your stomach. I’m not hauling you around by your shirt collar for what’s left of leave.”
Tim loved his friends like brothers. Meeting them in The Basic School was the best thing that had happened to him, to all of them. But often their fondness for free-for-all fun led to more problems than good times. Tim’s tendency toward moderation and keeping a cool head kept them out of hot water more than once.
“Tim, let me borrow a few more bucks.”
“And watch you lose my cash as fast as you lost yours? Hell no.” Tim made another modest bet and watched as he broke even with the dealer. Unlike Dwayne and Jeremy, Tim was about to leave Vegas with the exact amount of cash he entered it with. Moderate play and moderate drinking ensured he never played too deep.
Moderate. The story of his life. Hard to shake the “play it safe” feeling when your entire life in the Marines consisted of just that. But then again, if he wasn’t willing to play nanny to the two boobs he came with, they’d all be knee-deep in shit.
“Bet your own cash, then. It’s our last night,” Jeremy reminded him as he doubled down on his next hand.
“I am betting my money, Jer. And I’m doing just fine without a drunken Statler and Waldorf in my ear.”
“Statler and who?” Dwayne asked.
“The Muppet hecklers, you idiot,” Jeremy shot back.
“Both of you knock it off,” Tim started. “I’m not going to—”
He cut off, turning his head to follow a woman who passed behind the table, headed toward the slots. She was tall, her head high, and she floated more than walked. A thick mass of chestnut curls rioted down her back, almost covering her bare shoulders.
“Tim. Earth to Timmy.” Jeremy waved a hand in front of his face.
Tim slapped it away and snapped, “What?”
“You’re daydreaming and the dealer’s waiting.”
“Oh, sure. Right.” Trying to find the brunette again, he shoved some chips out in front without counting. Jeremy whistled and Dwayne muttered a curse, but he didn’t take his eyes away from the hunt. She must have slipped down an aisle of slots.
And why did he care? One woman, one night. In the end it amounted to nothing.
“Congratulations, sir.”
“Holy shit,” Jeremy breathed next to him.
Dwayne slapped his shoulder. “That was some playing, bro.”
Huh? Tim looked down and saw that instead of his normal modest bets, he’d shoved almost three hundred dollars in for the hand. And won.
Holy shit indeed. He could have lost three hundred dollars and never even realized it. A cocktail waitress bent over to hand Dwayne the whiskey he’d ordered. Tim grabbed the glass first and tossed the drink back. The burn down his throat only ignited the adrenaline that was blazing low in his gut.
One shot wouldn’t kill him. He wouldn’t lose control from one shot.
“Do it again,” Dwayne encouraged. His friend was starting to sound less sloppy, more like his normal good ole country boy self.
“Are you crazy?” Tim asked. “I could have lost that entire thing!” And why, when the thought should have been a cold wake-up call, did the fear thrill him, just a little?
“That’s why it’s called gambling,” Jeremy pointed out. “Don’t be a pussy. Do it again.”
“You two are nuts.”
Jeremy grabbed his wrist in a tight grip. “If you lose, I’ll pay you back every penny,” he muttered in a low voice.
“What the hell has gotten into you?” Tim started to scrape his chips into the palm of his hand. Maybe he could catch up with the hot brunette before she got too far away. Playing all or nothing wasn’t his style. Never had been. Measured risks made him a good officer and kept his ass out of trouble.
“Place your bets, gentlemen,” the dealer intoned over the clang of another winning alarm bell somewhere in the slots section. Where his anonymous woman had disappeared to. Where he was heading.
“You have spent the entire trip playing nanny. And don’t pretend you haven’t.”
“Someone has to,” Tim grumbled. And yeah, it grated just a little that even if he wanted to have fun, it wouldn’t be possible. Not with his two friends always being the first to sign up for Party Mascot.
“And we love you for it. But it just occurred to me that while you’re babysitting, you’re not having as much fun.” Jeremy took the glass of Jack and Coke and pushed it in front. When Tim stared at him, he motioned to the glass. Tim took a sip, then a gulp.
“Place your bets.” The request was more forceful.
“Hold on,” Jeremy shot back, then faced Tim. “Do this. You’re my best friend. You need to live. For one fucking night, stop thinking about what can go wrong. We have seven months in Afghanistan to worry about that. Have fun and let go. Don’t be a pussy; just go for it.”
Let go. It sounded like heaven. And really, if Jeremy was going to pay him back, was it really that much of a risk? For one night, he could act a fool like his friends normally did and worry about the consequences later.
He took all of one second to debate. He stole Dwayne’s shot of tequila, ignoring Dwayne’s protests, and tossed it back, adding to the burn of whiskey. Then he shoved his pile of chips forward.
“All in.”
Acknowledgments
Another book, another set of acknowledgments. These things always scare me, as I worry about forgetting people. So to you, those I forget and regret not listing, you are first. Thank you, for whatever you have done to help me get to this point! I’m sure you know who you are.
My family, you are all amazing. Your support is rivaled by none, and a writer (or a woman) could not be more lucky.
My husband must get an extra-special nod in here for taking me to the gun range and showing me how to shoot a pistol. The man has the patience of a saint. (Also? It turns out I’m not a terrible shot. Just so you know…)
My critique group, you are all a bunch of angels. And my critique partner in crime, Keri Ford, thank you for helping me put my best foot forward.
Emmanuelle, you’re unbelievable. And to the team at Sourcebooks, from cover art to promo to my editor Deb… you guys have been wonderful.
Lastly, as always, all mistakes are mine and mine alone. I’m pretty sure there shouldn’t be any. I ordered them all removed. But, you know, just in case…
About the Author
Jeanette Murray is a contemporary romance author who spends her days surrounded by hunky alpha heroes… at least in her mind. In real life, she’s a one-hero kind of woman, married to her own real-life Marine. When she’s not chasing her daughter or their lovable-but-stupid Goldendoodle around the house, she’s deep in her own fictional world, building another love story. As a military wife, she would tell you where she lives… but by the time you read this, she’ll have already moved. To see what Jeanette is up to next, visit www.jeanettemurray.com.
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For more Mary Margret Daughtridge, visit:
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For more Mary Margret Daughtridge, visit:
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