A Marine for Christmas (Hearts Ablaze: Men in Uniform)

by Jameison, Makenna

  A Marine for Christmas

  Makenna Jameison

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2013 by Makenna Jameison.

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  ALSO BY MAKENNA JAMEISON

  Christmas with a Soldier

  Valentine from a Soldier

  In the Arms of a Soldier

  Return of a Soldier

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 1

  The wind whipped colorful leaves through the air, and Amy glanced up, watching them swirl around and around before landing on the path in front of her. Red maple leaves mixed in with others that were shades of yellow and brown, covering part of the paved trail. Many more still hung on the branches above, painting the trees in the forest fiery shades of crimson and burnt orange. They wouldn’t stay this way much longer; in only another week or two the trees would be bare, leaving the landscape stark and bare for the upcoming winter. But for now, at the peak of the season, she basked in fall’s perfection.

  A crunch from the bushes nearby startled her before she realized it was probably just a small animal scurrying around, searching for food. Or running away from her, perhaps—she was, after all, jogging through their forest. Amy took a deep breath and smiled, looking up to the clear blue sky that was peeking through the branches. It was a perfect fall day. This time of year always energized her—the warm summer sun had given way to autumn, the air was cool and crisp each morning. In the coming weeks there’d be much to look forward to—warm spiced cider in the evenings, the upcoming weekend getaway with some girlfriends, homemade pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving…. It was a gorgeous time of year for hiking and jogging through the many trails in the forest as well, and she relished this time alone each afternoon to recharge.

  Her mind could drift away to thoughts of anything and everything as she ran, caught up in the rhythm of her movement, the sound of her breathing, and nothing else. There was the art studio she dreamed of opening someday, if she could ever save up the funds. The warm apple pies and cobblers she needed to bake this weekend for the school bake sale on Monday. The preschool classes she taught every morning and afternoon, for which she devoted many hours in preparation. The master bedroom of her house that needed to be painted, and the new artwork she would then dream up and paint to adorn the walls. The pile of books sitting on her nightstand that she would get to if she ever found the free time to read for pleasure again. The weekend getaway she looked forward to taking with friends in another month. And Ben. Always in the back of her mind, drifting into her subconscious thoughts when she least expected it, was Ben.

  Benjamin Miller. He was on her mind every evening before bed and every morning when she awoke. His dark black hair. Piercing green eyes. Just the right amount of stubble to give him that sexy-yet-not-too-scruffy look that she adored. The soft lips she’d kissed a thousand times. The arms that had held her as they made love. The many nights he’d fallen asleep beside her and the mornings she’d woken up at his side. The one she’d loved and lost. The one who got away.

  It was her fault, really. She’d been too scared to commit to him, to see all that he was offering her. And when she’d finally realized her mistake—how much she really missed him, how much she might even love him—he’d already moved on. It was hard to believe he could find someone new so quickly—I mean really. They’d known each other forever but dated only a few short months before she panicked. And the next thing she knew, bam, he was with another woman. Occasionally she’d catch him glancing her way if they happened to run into each other when they were out, but she generally avoided him at all costs. It was much too painful seeing her on his arm. Sadly, it had become much easier to ignore him, to simply give him a passing nod, than to force herself to speak to him, to her, and to acknowledge the gut-wrenching pain in her stomach and the ache that never seemed to subside in her heart.

  It obviously wasn’t meant to be. Amy was a firm believer in that. If they were meant to be together, then they would be. Hadn’t she known him practically a lifetime before he even noticed her? Before they kissed that one lazy summer afternoon and then barely left each other’s arms for three straight months?

  She sighed, trying to clear him from her mind as she continued to jog through the forest. It was better for both of them if she moved on. I mean he obviously had. Moved on that is. Moved on. Moved on. Moved on. She pounded on the pavement in front of her, picking up her pace slightly as she dashed through the remaining stretch of path toward the parking lot. Cranking up the music on her iPod, she let the song that was playing drown out any more thoughts. There. Pound, pound, pound. Her feet hit the ground as she ran. It was like she hadn’t even been thinking of him at all.

  Chapter 2

  Marine Corps Captain Jason Patterson glanced up as he saw Amy Wallace pull into her driveway, the tires of her silver SUV slightly dusty, splotches of dirt spread across the lower part of her vehicle. He thought she was a preschool teacher and wondered where she’d been all afternoon. Maybe they’d taken a field trip somewhere? Did preschoolers even take field trips? He wasn’t sure but then realized if they had taken a class trip, they’d most certainly have ridden on a school bus like all the other children did. It wasn’t like she would be chauffeuring them around.

  He watched as Amy climbed out of her SUV, wearing those tight, stretchy pants women wore when jogging and a snug tee shirt. A long-sleeved shirt was tied around her waist, and her long, brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail that swung back and forth as she moved. He watched as she ducked back into her SUV and grabbed a tote-style canvas bag, purse, and black gym bag. She glanced across the street but didn’t seem to even notice him as she shut the door and walked toward her front porch. Her hips swung as she walked, and he found himself wishing that she didn’t have the shirt around her waist. With the way the rest of her body was trimmed and toned, he was sure she had a tight little backside.

  Her house was identical to the one he was renting across the street, save for the fresh pots of yellow mums on her front porch, cute little pumpkin sitting off to the side, and decorative fall wreath hanging on the front door. Jason knew his own place could use a little sprucing up, but he’d been traveling so often since moving in at the beginning of the summer he’d barely done more than mow the lawn every so often. He had at least met most of the neighbors, Amy included, but between long hours at work and weekends often spent away, he’d barely gotten to know any of them.

  Jason quietly shut the trunk of his black sports car and stole one last glance across the street. Amy’s house looked warm and inviting, almost cheerful even, compared to his own. He’d barely had time to unpack all his belongings, let alone decorate. Not that decorating was really his thing anyway, he thought with a chuckle. If anyone were to come inside, they would definitely think “bachelor pad.” He smiled and turned
toward his own front door. As he reached out to open the glass storm door, he caught a glimpse of himself in his olive and khaki “Greens”—the uniform he wore to work on base every day. It sure beat the camo and gear he’d hauled around while deployed in the desert. Four tours of duty in Afghanistan and it felt great to be stationed stateside.

  The women around here didn’t seem to mind the uniform either, not that he’d really met any that caught his eye aside from his neighbor.

  He swung the glass door open and put his key into the lock. Maybe he had a frozen dinner that he could pop into the microwave later on. Otherwise he’d have to order a pizza after his evening run. He certainly needed to stop by the grocery store tomorrow. A quick appraisal of the contents of his refrigerator showed he had only milk for his cereal and a six-pack of beer. He knew that his cupboards were equally bare. He’d been gone again last weekend and hadn’t made it to the store yet. Hell yeah. Definite bachelor pad.

  Chapter 3

  Amy walked into her cozy living room, unceremoniously dumping her bags on the ground. The black duffle bag landed on the hardwood floor next to her plush ivory sofa. The bag contained her work clothes, which she’d changed out of before going on a run. Being a preschool teacher, her work attire mostly consisted of jeans and a tee shirt with the name of the preschool on it. Still, they weren’t exactly something she’d exercise in. The tote bag landed on the area rug, a bold navy and ivory pattern that she’d found at one of the local shops in town. Amy had been thrilled when she’d been able to purchase her own home several years earlier, and she’d spent hours painstakingly searching online and in all the local stores to find the perfect furniture and accents for her space.

  The walls were adorned with her own artwork—bold, modern abstracts in colorful patterns as well as a few more subdued pieces, including one of a graceful ballet dancer. The pieces were large, and took up much of the wall space, but they matched perfectly with the rest of her décor. She’d hung the drapes high above the windows, giving the room a much larger feel, and with the chic accents she’d placed throughout, Amy could almost envision that she was walking into her own personal art gallery. Someday, she promised herself. Someday.

  Amy painted in the spare bedroom/office/art studio. The room had her desk as well as easels, a daybed, and a large storage cabinet for all of her supplies. Her master bedroom was kept work-free (both of school materials and art supplies) to give her a much-needed retreat at the end of a long day. She and Ben had spent many leisurely mornings there—nights, too—but she still loved it there, despite his absence. The kitchen was small but functional, and she had everything that she really needed in her first home.

  The tote bag she’d set down, which had been standing moments before, suddenly tipped over. Colorful construction paper spilled out, along with stencils in the shapes of leaves, pumpkins, and apples that she’d intended to use to make cut-outs for the children. The kids would decorate the construction paper shapes in school tomorrow, but Amy had to prepare everything tonight so that it would be ready for craft time.

  She bent down to gather up the supplies when her cell phone began vibrating in her purse. She pulled it out to see three missed calls from her best friend, Melissa. Wondering what was wrong, she quickly answered it.

  “You won’t believe it,” Melissa sobbed into the phone.

  “What? Melissa? Are you okay?”

  “He broke up with me!” Melissa shrieked hysterically.

  “What?!” Amy stopped picking up the papers and let them flutter back to the floor. “Are you serious?”

  “The wedding is two months away,” Melissa continued. “TWO.”

  “What?” Amy repeated, still in shock.

  “You heard me right—it’s over.”

  “I can’t believe it. Did he say why? Maybe he just has cold feet…” Amy hedged.

  “Cold feet. Right. He said he realized that he’s not ready to settle down. He’s thirty-two for God’s sake! I mean it’s not like we’re college students or something. We’ve been together for three years. THREE years. He proposed to me!”

  “What a jerk,” Amy said, sinking down onto the sofa. Melissa and Michael had seemed like the perfect couple. They had been practically inseparable when they first began dating. Michael was a Marine stationed nearby in Quantico, Virgina. He’d frequently driven up to their neighboring town to see Melissa, and although Amy knew it was hard on both of them during his year-long deployment to Afghanistan, she thought they’d been happily planning their wedding—or at least Melissa had been happily planning it.

  “It’s unbelievable. Un-FREAK-ing believable. I mean, I just talked to his mom the other day about floral arrangements. Floral arrangements! She had some great ideas, actually,” Melissa interjected, sniffling. “But now this? After everything we’ve been through, it’s just OVER?”

  “What happened?”

  “We were supposed to meet with the caterer today—to finalize the meal selection, go over the head count. Anyway, Michael came over to my place to pick me up. He’s been working the late shift down at Quantico, so I hadn’t seen him since Sunday. It’s not a big deal though—I’ve gotten used to his crazy schedule. Anyway, as soon as he got here, I knew something was wrong. His face was all stiff and serious, his body language was off—he didn’t even kiss me hello!”

  “So I take it you never made it to the caterer?”

  “Nope. He gave me the whole ‘Sit down, we need to talk,” thing.”

  “It’s not you, it’s me?”

  “Exactly. I mean, I get that it was hard when he was gone last year. I get it—I was living it. But he came back, we readjusted, and everything’s been great. We’ve been planning the wedding, looking at houses, making plans for the future….”

  “You’re not pregnant are you?”

  “Of course not!”

  “All right, calm down. I just wondered if something completely freaked him out.”

  “Apparently the idea of marriage was enough to do that all on its own. He said he’s been feeling unsure ever since he’s been back.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, you’d think he could have mentioned it. We could’ve postponed the wedding or talked about it, not acted like everything was all lovey-dovey and perfect as we planned it and continued our march to the altar.”

  “Maybe he didn’t know,” Amy said gently. “I mean, let’s try to look at this in a different light. At least he didn’t literally leave you at the altar. Wouldn’t that have been a million times worse?”

  She heard Melissa sigh on the other end of the line.

  “Want to come over? I just got back from a run. I’ll jump in the shower, and by the time you get here we can have leftover lasagna and a bottle of red.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “At least come over for a little while. I’m sure you could use a distraction right now.”

  “Could I ever. I’ve been trying to call you all afternoon.”

  “Sorry. I left my cell phone in the car when I was jogging.”

  “Yeah, I wondered where you had disappeared off to.” She sniffled again, and Amy was relieved that although Melissa was still upset, she wasn’t sobbing as she had been when she first called. “I’ll head over in a few minutes. See you in thirty?”

  “See you then.”

  Chapter 4

  “Men really suck,” Melissa muttered an hour later, pouring herself a second glass of red wine. The girls were sitting around Amy’s kitchen table. A sleek bronze tray with three cream pillar candles rested in the middle, a bottle of wine was sitting in a matching bronze coaster, and Amy had already set the table with silverware, modern square plates, and simple yet refined wineglasses. “I mean first, Ben dumps you—” Melissa continued.

  “Well, technically I dumped Ben; he just got over me really quickly,” Amy interrupted, walking over to pull the lasagna she was reheating from the oven.

  “I still don’t know why you broke up with him. But he started dating
that other girl like a minute later, so it was practically like he dumped you.”

  “Great, that makes me feel so much better,” Amy countered, serving them each a slice of steaming hot lasagna.

  Melissa flipped her sleek red hair back over her shoulders and sighed. With the splotches of red across her pale, porcelain skin—not to mention puffy eyes—it was quite obvious that she’d spent the afternoon crying. She was in a mood to rant and rave, not to have Amy gently disagree with everything she said, attempting to be the voice of reason. Amy obviously must have the patience of a saint in order to deal with preschoolers all day long. Melissa was a real estate agent and used to being aggressive to attract new clients and close the deal. She definitely wasn’t used to being around young children, even though she’d looked forward to starting a family one day with Michael. As she’d spent the last ten minutes—and first glass of wine—complaining, Amy had subtly tried to change the topic and calm her down.

  “Well it should! Ben was obviously a jerk if he got over you that quickly. Just like Michael is a complete bastard….”

  Amy carried their plates over to the table and picked up her own glass. “I really don’t get Michael at all,” she said, taking a sip of Shiraz. “Has he tried calling you? Maybe he’ll come to his senses and change his mind.”

  “As if! He’s probably out drinking with his Marine buddies tonight, picking up some new girl already—after all, he doesn’t want to be tied down.”

  “I thought you said he worked the late shift,” Amy said.

  “Well, he’ll be out there this weekend. The guy didn’t even shed a single tear. And there I was, sitting there sobbing on my sofa, like some teenager who’d just gotten dumped by her first boyfriend.”