Have Yourself a Marine Christmas (Always a Marine)

by Long, Heather

  “It’s a bit nippy.”

  With a tug, he nodded to his apartment building. “Can we stop taking the long way?”

  “You up for the grassy, uphill walk?” Maybe she should have started the conversation inside. No amount of clenching her jaw could stop her teeth from chattering.

  “Let’s find out.” They double-timed it up the hill, and Rebel didn’t waver once. The building cut away some of the wind, but the faint smile on his face faded as they passed his neighbors’ doors on the way to his apartment. Every single one had a wreath or lights or combination of holiday decorations. “I can’t get away from it.”

  “Yes, you can,” She pointed to his apartment and the crossed US flags hanging where the wreath would have gone. “You have your sanctuary right there.” She had to be able to do something else to help, didn’t know what yet, but she’d figure it out.

  “You’re still coming in, right?” He had his keys in one hand and held her with the other.

  “Yes, you promised me coffee.” Had he thought she would forgo the coffee date after their conversation? The split-second of relief easing the tension around his eyes suggested that yes, it had been exactly what he thought.

  Once inside, she stripped off her coat and savored the heat. Rebel went to start the coffee, and she wandered over to the window and opened the blinds—only to see one of the park paths lined with Christmas trees. That had been set up for the holiday run they were hosting at Mike’s Place. It would benefit Toys for Tots and all the trees would be lit, with toys and surprise presents for the kids currently staying on campus.

  A thump from the kitchen snagged her attention and she caught his faint limp as he carried two mugs of coffee from the kitchen. Blithely ignoring the stubborn set of his jaw, she met him halfway across the room to claim her mug. “You’re sore.”

  “A little,” he admitted.

  “Want a massage?”

  Heat kindled under the ice in his manner—but it was a fleeting response. His gaze moved past her to the window and the visible lights coming on in the distance. Sipping his coffee, he bypassed her and continued to the window. “You don’t have to.” Closing the blinds added punctuation to the quiet words.

  Noel sighed. “Ryan—”

  His light laughter surprised her. “I always know when I’m in trouble. Real trouble with you.” At her upraised eyebrows, he continued. “You call me Ryan. Normally it’s Reb, Rebel, or Marine. But when you’re really upset, you call me Ryan.”

  Conceding the point, she raised her mug in a salute. “You’re sore, and I don’t want you to ignore any aches and pains if we can take care of them.”

  “Sore means I’m alive, Noel.” He waved her into a seat and waited until she chose the sofa before easing down to sit next to her. “A little fast walk up the hill isn’t going to kill me. Not after Kara’s workouts.”

  Back off and let it go. It wasn’t entirely in her nature to do either. Bullying him when he needed it had become something of a dance for them. He doesn’t need bullying. “How are those going? Really?”

  “Not bad.” A hint of a smile touched the corners of his mouth as he glanced down at his coffee. “I ran a fifth of a mile today.”

  “Holy crap, why didn’t you tell me?” She set her coffee down and reached over to give him a hug. He caught her, pulling her closer, and caged her in his arms, the embrace tight enough to squeeze the air out of her.

  “I was saving it for when I got into trouble,” he whispered against her hair and she laughed.

  “You’re a rock star.” She pulled at his hold and his arms loosened, but he didn’t let her go. “That is seriously some awesome.” Pulse racing, she didn’t even try to restrain her good mood.

  “So I’m not in trouble anymore?” He searched her face.

  Still laughing, she shook her head. “Not even a little.” How could he be? Yes, she still wanted to address the Grinch behavior, but—a fifth-of-a-mile run. A fifth. The heat in his eyes returned and his gaze dipped to her mouth. The warmth in her middle suddenly bloomed and three thoughts hit her at once.

  He wants to kiss me.

  His arms tightened and he slid his hand up to cup her nape.

  Oh hell, I want to kiss him.

  When he tilted his head, slowly closing the distance—she understood the invitation. He gave her time to reject the advance, but it was the last thing she wanted to do.

  The third thought evaporated under the wild scorch of his mouth brushing hers and she forgot to think altogether.

  Chapter Four

  Drumming his nails on the table, Rebel fought the urge to look at his watch—again. Three days since he’d screwed up enough courage to kiss her and what a kiss it had been. She hadn’t rejected the overture, but she did put on the brakes after allowing him three more luscious tastes. That counted as a win in his book.

  Unfortunately, Noel had other patients and he couldn’t hog all her time. The day before, she’d had a day off and though she texted him and they’d talked by phone, she said she had to get her laundry done because she’d run out of clean clothes. Sadly, she didn’t go for his offer to just show up naked.

  Impatient, he gave into the urge and checked the clock on the wall. She was late.

  “You’re scowling.” Her lyrical voice slid over him and chased away his impatience.

  Turning, he feasted on the sight of her stripping off her jacket. She wore a familiar set of scrubs and her hair had been pulled into a ponytail—and it glittered. “You’re late.”

  Draping her jacket over a chair, she slid into the seat next to him. He’d picked a sub shop for their lunch date. “I thought I was supposed to pick you up so I ran over to your apartment first.”

  “I texted you that I’d meet you here,” he reminded her. Damn she looked good. A pink flush warmed her caramel skin and her eyes were bright. She didn’t wear makeup, but she’d never needed it.

  “I realized that after I got to your apartment. Did you get someone to drop you off?”

  Before he could answer, one of the staff delivered a tray with two sandwiches, chips and cups of coffee. At Noel’s quizzical look, he grinned. “You order the exact same kind of sandwich all the time, so I took a guess.” When she lifted her eyebrows in challenge, he nudged the wrapped sub toward her. “Check.”

  Lips pursed, she peeled open the wax paper and her eyes lit up. A thrill skated up his spine at her unabashed delight, just like a kid at….

  “Turkey and spinach with avocado. Reb—you even got whole wheat bread.” Her expression grew more delighted. “I’ve dated guys for months who couldn’t figure out how I took my steak or that I even liked coffee before.”

  “Well, you’re not dating anyone stupid this time.” He sorted out the rest of the food, sliding over one of the bags of chips and setting her Styrofoam cup in front of her. Hooking a finger into the sugar bowl, he tugged it over to right in front of her. He’d already made sure it had Splenda. Catching her staring at him, he paused. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Shaking her head, she glanced down at the sandwich. The glitter in her hair sparkled in the weak sunlight filtering through the window.

  “It doesn’t look like nothing.” The sparkle shimmered again and he reached over to pluck a thread of tinsel from her ponytail.

  Touching her hair, she gave a half-grin, half grimace. “Sorry, I was decorating before I came in this morning and then I helped the kids get some of the trees on the run ready.”

  “Okay.” He dropped the tinsel onto the now-empty tray and twisted to put the tray on another table.

  “Rebel, we’re not dating.” She had that uneasy, worried look. The one that signified a difficult discussion or bad news—one she worried would hurt him.

  He patted her hand. “Yes we are, now eat your sandwich. I bet you haven’t stopped to eat all day, have you?” Based on his own experience with her, she came in early and paid a call on all the patients she was the case nurse for. And then, based on their state of mind, regime
n, or needs, she spent time with each of them. Half of her job, he swore, had to be that of cruise director. She listened, she cajoled, she ordered, and she made things happen.

  Damn, she was great.

  “Rebel, we’re not. I am still your case nurse. It’s a conflict of interest to date a patient.”

  “But it’s not to kiss one?” He dared her to deny it, because while he may have initiated the kiss—she’d damn well returned in kind.

  Noel blew out a breath, but the color in her cheeks deepened. It might have been the cold adding the rosiness to her face earlier, but this was a blush. “About that….”

  “Yeah?” He took a bite, better to eat something than say anything he might regret. He’d spent two days planning how to get her to his apartment for another round of those delightful, long mouth-watering sets of kisses.

  “I like you,” she admitted, and then he had to wait for her to finish a bite of her sandwich. “A lot. But I am your case nurse.” Washing down the bite with a swallow of coffee. “It’s complicated.”

  “No, tax law is complicated. You and me? We’re not complicated.” Pushing his sandwich to the side, he covered her hand with his. “We’re dating.”

  “When did you get so pushy?” Open challenge replaced the worried lines wrinkling her brow.

  “The day I saw Salter kiss you.” It had pissed him off.

  “Craig is harmless.”

  “Yeah, he can be harmless five feet away from you and keeping his lips to himself if I have to staple them shut.” Giving her a squeeze, he released her and reached for his sandwich. She hadn’t denied again that they were dating. The tautness in his chest eased.

  Cradling her coffee cup, Noel watched him from beneath lowered lashes. “So, we’re dating.”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “I chose lunch today, you get to pick what we do this weekend—you do still have a three-day weekend, right?”

  She scrunched her face and winced. “About this weekend….”

  “You said you were taking a long weekend because you cut your vacation short.” Which was his fault and he could have kicked himself when he realized it. Instead of a full ten days with her family, she’d gone home for Thanksgiving, the wedding, and then turned around and driven straight back to him—because he’d started skipping his physio.

  “Technically, I’m not working….”

  “But?” What was she up to?

  “I have to do some shopping and I promised to help finish the decorations for the run. We’re doing it next week and there’s a big event for all the kids—it’s a lot of holiday stuff.”

  “Oh. I can handle it. I’ll go with you.” He’d rather spend the time with her anyway.

  “Ryan…I don’t want you to have to handle it. It’s Christmas—and I’m going to a mall. And stores, and then there’s the decorating. I need to pick up some gifts to ship home or they won’t get there in time. That’s a lot of Christmas if you don’t want to hear the music or see the decorations.” Worry intensified in the depths of her eyes and he sighed.

  “It won’t be a problem—I’ll get to spend the time with you.” How bad could it be?

  ***

  Saturday morning in a mall was pure chaos, a fact he’d nearly managed to forget. Adding to the madness were the nearly two dozen kids ranging in ages from six to fifteen they’d met in the parking lot. Fortunately, he wasn’t the only Marine in attendance. Nearly a dozen other able-bodied Marines and their spouses supervised.

  “You could have mentioned the field trip,” he complained under his breath.

  Mischief filled her smile. “We’re not chaperoning.”

  Rebel frowned. “Then why the hell are we with them?” Noel had trailed the bus into the lot and chosen a spot adjacent to where the buses parked. She’d pitched in with the organizing, and as they’d trickled into the mall in groups, he and Noel joined them.

  “Because we’re heading in the same direction.” She glanced past him and slowed. Following the direction of her gaze, he turned to study the snow and twinkle light-bedecked store window of a clothing shop. Most of the mannequins were outfitted for skiing—something one simply wouldn’t be doing in Dallas, like—ever. “I’m going to duck in here, I’ll be right back—” And she was off, beelining into the store.

  A tapping on his arm derailed his intention to follow her. Glancing down, he eyed a little girl staring up at him. A quick scan revealed the others had all moved deeper into the mall and he didn’t recognize anyone else trotting briskly for their destinations.

  Careful of his balance, he crouched down. It took a hell of a lot to make sure he didn’t topple—but his thighs took the burn and he got himself down on eye level with the little girl. “Lost?”

  “No, sir. I’m s’posed to stay with you and Miss Torres.” The little girl couldn’t have been more than five-years-old. Noel wouldn’t have lied to him about their not chaperoning the trip. She kept searching the store where Noel disappeared.

  “I see. You like Miss Torres?” It was a guess.

  “Uh huh. She helped me decorate the tree for my daddy.” The little girl shifted from one foot to the other.

  “Did you sneak away from your group?” She wouldn’t be the first kid who did that—he’d given his mother plenty of gray hairs at that age, always sneaking off to find some adventure.

  The little girl flushed and shot a furtive glance toward where the others had gone. “You won’t tell on me, will you?”

  “I might have to let someone know.” He squinted, but he’d have to be an ogre not to take her crestfallen pout into consideration. “But let’s find Miss Torres and let her decide, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m Reb…Ryan, Ryan Brun. And what’s your name?” He pushed up from the crouch, wavering a fraction before finding stable footing.

  “I’m Chrissy Carol—like a Christmas carol.” She giggled. “You’re Sergeant Rebel.”

  Chrissy Carol? Really, would someone actually do that to their child? He slowed his pace, but she kept up with him, practically bouncing over the idea of going into the store. He skimmed his gaze over the shoppers inside, searching for Noel. “Who was your assigned buddy, Chrissy?”

  Suspicion tickled at the back of his mind. Call it instinct or simple knowledge, but the group had to have some kind system and no adult would leave someone this young unsupervised.

  “Captain Dexter and Mrs. Dexter.” She spotted their quarry at the same time he did. With a squeal, Chrissy darted after Noel. Noel glanced up from a stack of sweaters and barely turned enough to catch the little locomotive steaming straight toward her. Pulling his phone out, Rebel texted Luke and had a response thirty seconds later.

  We’re on our way.

  Slanting a look at the pleasure on Noel’s face and the equally bright cheer on Chrissy’s, Rebel shrugged and texted. She can shop with us, sir. Unless you had other plans.

  Just a shopping trip for the kids. Secret Santas and toy selection for the run. Meet at food court 1200 for lunch?

  Yes, sir.

  Checking the time, he estimated they had three hours of shopping time before the scheduled rendezvous. Chrissy let out a little shriek and skipped around to dart at a table full of fuzzy pillow pets.

  He eyed Noel’s amused expression. “She’s cute,” he said, and took a position where he could watch the door and Chrissy at the same time. The little angel moved like lightning and he had no intention of letting her slip away into the crowded mall unobserved. “Set up, or did she really just want to hang out with you?”

  “Now, why would I set you up?” The sly tilt to Noel’s smile didn’t waver.

  A lull in the dull roar of conversation let the music piping in rise in volume…and little Chrissy started singing along with Burl Ives.

  “Because you fight dirty.” He stroked his finger down her cheek. Chrissy was dancing with one of the brown pillow pets. “What’s her story?”

  “Rebel….”

  “Shh.” He’d asked the quest
ion, he wanted an answer. “What’s her story?”

  Folding up the sweater she’d been examining, Noel said in a low voice, “Her father died in the sandbox. Her mom was also deployed while Chrissy lived with an aunt. Mom was injured, and the whole family came down for the holidays while her mother billets here for her recovery.”

  A violent tug on his heartstrings if there ever was one. “Mom’s status?”

  “She’ll be fine. Lost some nerve function and she had to learn to speak again, but Chrissy reads with her every day.” Casting a glance over her shoulder at the little girl, Noel’s face softened with fondness. “She couldn’t read at all three months ago, but when her mom had to start vocal therapy, one of the exercises was reading out loud—Chrissy learned to read so she could help.”

  “She likes you.”

  “I like her, too—and we need to rescue those pillows before she starts building a fort out of them.” But her warm laughter decried any real concern she had.

  He spent the morning trailing the two from store to store. Noel was a conservative shopper, and she scrutinized every item carefully before she purchased. Chrissy—he noted with amusement—began to mimic her pretty quickly. When they’d been in the toy store for over an hour, Rebel waded in and helped narrow down the toy choices to three top favorites. Since each one had made one of the ladies light up, he bought all three.

  A sucker for anything to keep their cheery moods alive, he had only himself to blame when they lined up to see the mall Santa. When it was Chrissy’s turn, Rebel passed a credit card to the elf at the register and watched the moppet skip all the way up to get her picture taken.

  Inspired, he gave Noel a nudge. “You should go, too.”

  “What?” She blinked.

  “Go tell Santa what you want for Christmas.” He motioned to the elf ringing up the cost. “Add a second set, too.”

  “I am not going to sit in Santa’s lap.” Her mouth said no, but her eyes danced with merriment. She liked the idea.

  “Sure you are.” With it decided, he gave her a nudge again. “Go on. Chrissy will get a kick out of it.” Invoking the little girl had been the right trick. With a delighted huff of exasperation, Noel handed him her shopping bags and, a minute later, switched places with Chrissy. The little one came back and leaned against his leg, holding up the lollipop the elf stationed at Santa’s side had given her.