American Bad Boy: A Military Romance

by Eddie Cleveland

  “No, it’s just the right amount. You’re already a natural beauty, now it’s just in high def,” she smiles.

  Mack is taking me out on a date tonight and from my dry mouth and nervous tummy, you’d think I’d never gone on one before in my life. Of course, him refusing to tell me where we’re going or what he’s got planned hasn’t helped at all.

  I give myself one last look in the mirror. Oh, who am I kidding, I’ll be back here in five minutes to scrutinize again. Chelsea is right though; my make-up does look good. So does my manicure and my hair, and even though she doesn’t know it, the wax job I got doesn’t look bad either.

  Just because she’s my sister doesn’t mean she needs to know every little detail.

  I turn and look at her, the sparkle in her big brown eyes makes me wonder who’s more excited? Her or me?

  “I hope I’m not overdressed. Or underdressed,” I look down at the black blouse and jeans I finally managed to settle on.

  “You’ll be fine! You look fine! Just relax, Lauren. You won’t have any fun if you’re just hyperventilating the whole time. You’re gonna have a great night, ok? And you know you don’t have to worry about Chris, he’s got the world’s best aunt to look after him, so chill, will ya?”

  I open my mouth to spill a laundry list of more worries and concerns, but my voice is drowned out.

  Vroom-tick-tick-tick!

  What the hell was that?

  Chelsea, Chris and I all rush over to the living room window and see Mack pop out the kickstand on his motorcycle and tilt it onto the support as he steps off. I’d be scared that he showed up on his bike, if a larger part of me wasn’t aching with desire just from watching him park it.

  “Whoa,” Chris gives his approval and my sister and I watch Mack remove his helmet and walk toward the door.

  It feels like a scene from a movie. Probably a James Bond movie, because there’s just one teensy, minor detail that Mack didn’t fill me in on. Where ever he’s taking me tonight, he’s taking me there wearing a tuxedo.

  I’m painfully underdressed, that much is clear, but I can’t scrape two shits together about it right now. Not when Mack “Captain America” Forrester shows up in some sexy man-lingerie on the back of a Harley.

  I rush over to the door and yank it open with all of the patience of a kid opening gifts on Christmas.

  “Mack!” I throw my arms around him as soon as he steps through the door. His arms wrap around my waist and he easily lifts me from my feet and swirls me around.

  For a moment, my mind flashes back to when we were kids and he talked me into being spun around on the merry-go-round at our park. I remember clearly how I clung onto those bars for dear life as Mack spun me around in nauseating circles until my façade of bravery broke down and I screamed his name in pure terror. In an instant, he thrust himself up onto the spinning cyclone from hell and grabbed onto my arms. “Don’t let go of me,” I cried desperately.

  “Never.” It was a one-word sentence, a statement and a promise spun into one.

  Mack places me on my tipsy feet and gives me a quick kiss on the tip of my nose.

  “Hey Mack!” Chris leaps over to him.

  “My man!” Mack high fives him enthusiastically.

  Our son could compete with the sun right now for who’s shining brightest.

  “Mack, nice to see you again,” Chelsea smiles at him.

  “Hey, lady! Thanks for helping me out,” he nods over at her and I know I don’t have a cool superhero nickname but my Spidey sense starts tingling. Helping him with what?

  “What are you wearing,” I interrupt their meaningful looks. “I’m not dressed for where we’re going if you’re wearing a tux!” I look down over the outfit I painfully picked out, rejected, tried back on, and finally settled on.

  “Don’t worry about that!” Chelsea interrupts before I have a chance to fully get immersed in Mack’s hypnotizing stare. “Come with me, I’ve got you something to wear,” she slides up beside me and grabs my hand.

  She quickly pulls me up the stairs before I have a chance to process much of what’s happening let alone protest over it. I look down over my shoulder as my feet automatically follow my sister and I see Chris and Mack talking like two old friends at a party.

  It's hard to be overly concerned with whatever the hell is going on right now when my Mom heart is overflowing with joy.

  Chelsea leads me back down to my bedroom and lets go of my hand, leaving me to fend for myself by the door while she raids my closet. What the hell is she doing?

  Quickly, she slides hanger after hanger forward until she finds whatever she’s looking for. She pulls a floor length, purple gown from behind my work clothes and tosses it on the bed.

  “Put this on,” she smiles.

  “Where did that come from?” I peer past her into my magical closet making amazing, elegant ball gowns appear. Is there a door to Narnia back there too?

  “I hid it in there,” she looks entirely too proud of herself with her chest puffed out and her eyes twinkling.

  “Oh, you did, huh?”

  “Yeah, and I know it’s a perfect fit cause I got your measurements from your other clothes. Well, from the ones you actually wear,” she laughs at her jab about my collection of clothes I’ll never fit into again.

  I look at the lavender dress on my bed and then back to my sister. I know she’s got my best interest at heart, so I won’t question her… not yet anyway.

  Instead, I slip out of the clothes I agonized over and put the dress on. “Can you zip me up, please?” I look over my shoulder at her.

  “Sure.” She helps me close the back as I admire how the light purple hue of the dress plays off of my skin tone. I look good, even if I do say so myself.

  “Where’s Mack taking me? Why are we dressing up like this?” I turn and confront Chelsea once I feel the zipper reach the top.

  “Nope. I’ll never tell you,” she sing-songs. Like she’s a five-year-old version of herself taunting the three-year-old version of myself.

  She clamps down on my hand and practically drags me out of the bedroom, back down the hall and to the stairs.

  “Oh, mom! You look like a princess!” Chris exclaims and almost immediately bashfully looks at his feet, like he’s ashamed of his declaration. It’s probably incredibly uncool to say that to your mom. It might be uncool, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make my week.

  “He’s not wrong, you know,” Mack’s eyes glide over me from head to toe. “You look amazing, but I don’t think you look like a princess,” he looks up at me after sweeping his eyes down my body all the way to my bare feet.

  “Oh, no?” I pout.

  “No. You don’t look like a princess, because you’re no princess. You’re my queen.” He grabs my hand and twirls me around in a small circle. I spin around with my eyes closed and enjoy the way the dress feels as it billows out around my legs.

  I do feel like a queen. His queen. Wait, a minute. This queen doesn’t have any shoes to wear with this dress.

  “My feet!” I stop on a dime and look down at my toes woefully.

  “Got it covered,” Chelsea smiles.

  “Come over here,” Mack walks me back to my couch and I sit as soon as my legs touch the seat.

  Chelsea rummages in the back of my coat closet and pulls out a shoe box. “Got it!”

  Seriously? Is my whole house full of hidden Easter eggs for this date?

  She drops the box beside Mack, who is kneeling at my feet. He opens the lid and I watch with my breath held as he pulls out the first velvet crushed high heel shoe. The heel must be six inches long. I’m going to officially break my neck tonight, that much is apparent. I look up at Chelsea, her smug smile is practically popping off her face. I’m 100% certain that these shoes were her brainchild.

  Make that 1000%

  Mack holds it in his hand, smirking up at me. “Let’s see if the shoe fits,” he teases me, sliding it onto my foot.

  It does fit. Perfe
ctly.

  He puts the other one on me and I can’t help but wonder if I’m about to get whisked away in a pumpkin carriage. Remembering that there’s a motorcycle in the driveway waiting for me makes my stomach turn cold.

  “A perfect fit.” Mack stands back up and helps me off the couch. In these heels, I can use all the help I can get.

  Teetering on the brink of disaster I look down at our son, who is beaming his radiant smile up at us. “Ok, we’re going to head out now, Chris. Please promise me that you’ll be good for your aunt?”

  “I promise!” He crosses his heart, reminding me of his father only a few months back making me a similar promise in the backyard.

  “I can’t promise I’ll have her back by midnight,” Mack winks at Chelsea.

  “Don’t rush back, we’re good,” she cheerfully answers. “Have fun you two!”

  I follow Mack out the front door over to the bike and wonder how this is going to work, exactly.

  “Here, we’re not going that far, but I want you to wear the helmet,” he hands it to me.

  “Uh, ok.” I grab it from him and look down at it.

  “Mack! Lauren! Wait!” Chelsea yells from the front step dramatically. She’s holding something in her hands and runs over to us in her bare feet.

  “You almost forgot this,” she stuffs the white cardboard box into Mack’s hands and then gives me a meaningful look before disappearing back inside the house.

  “What’s that?” I look down into Mack’s hands and wait for him to pop the lid on this mystery.

  “It’s for you,” he opens the box and inside is a corsage. Violet and white roses are twisted up with some babies’ breath. He holds it over my wrist.

  “Lauren, will you do me the honor of going to the prom with me tonight?” He peers into my face with his crystal blue eyes and I don’t even want to question the insanity. I just want to hand over my ticket and take the ride with Mack into the madness he’s clearly planned out for us.

  “Yes.” I hold out my wrist for him. “Yes, I will.”

  41

  Lauren

  2014

  Mack pulls up to the Colorado Golf Club and brings his motorcycle to a stop. I thought seeing him on the back of the Harley was hot, it was practically orgasmic to be on there with him. I never realized that I could be so terrified and turned on at the same time.

  He helps me down from the seat and I quickly smooth out the bunched up dress that I transformed into a makeshift pair of pants between my legs. I pop the helmet off my head and hope that it hasn’t messed up my hair too badly.

  “You look stunning,” Mack murmurs, pulling me close. My self-consciousness evaporates as he wraps his strong arms around me. It’s impossible to feel insecure when a man like Mack Forrester looks at you like that. His lips cover mine with a tender kiss. Prickles of desire cover my skin as I melt into his tight embrace.

  I know that Mack put a lot of thought and time into tonight, that’s already clear. However, I’m just kinda wishing he’d saved himself the trouble and just booked us a hotel instead.

  Five minutes without oxygen would be easier than two months without Mack. Every cell in my body craves him.

  Needs him.

  Screams his name.

  He releases my lips from his tantalizing kiss and my eyelids flutter back open. “Are you ready?” His eyes sparkle.

  “Since you still haven’t told me what you’ve got cooked up in there, I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” My lips twitch up into a smile and betrays my complaining. He knows full well that I’m loving this.

  “All will be revealed soon,” he teases me dramatically and holds out his arm to me. I cling onto it for dear life. Ok, maybe not for the sake of my life, but certainly for the sake of my ankles.

  Damn Chelsea and her love of stilettos. I swear she must have worked the pole in another life. If it was in this one, I don’t wanna know.

  Safe on Mack’s arm, I let him guide me to the door I haven’t stepped through for a decade. I blink my eyes to adjust to the darkened room we step into.

  “Oh, Mack!”

  It’s the only words I can squeak out. I feel like we just walked into a dream. From the ceiling are the same clusters of teal, silver and white balloons, hanging like magical clouds. Draped over the walls is the same silky fabric that I remember from our prom night. Right down to the streamers and the “Congratulations to the Class of 2004!” sign hanging on the back wall, everything looks the same.

  There are three ways this could have happened. This country club may have been sporting this décor for ten years. I’ve stepped into a time warp. Or, Mack has spent countless hours recreating every detail of our last night together before both our lives changed forever.

  I manage to close my mouth and smile at the most incredible man I’ve ever known. “It’s amazing, Mack!” I lean my head against his arm and look over all the hard work and thought he’s put into making this re-imagined prom.

  “This is just a room. You, on the other hand, now that’s what I call amazing,” he guides me to the only table and chairs set up across the room.

  Being every bit the prince charming that I wished for ten years ago, he pulls my seat out and helps me tuck into the table. I’ve gotta admit, I’m enjoying the princess treatment. I just hope Mack isn’t such a gentleman later. When I rip that tux off his hard body and fuck his brains out.

  Mack takes his seat across from me and reaches for my hand across the table. “I missed you,” his eyes search my face. I’m sure he can read every emotion on my face like words in a book.

  “I missed you too. So much. I know it was for the best and that you needed that time to work on everything, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t hard,” my eyes mist over.

  “Hey, don’t cry. I’m here now,” he traces his thumb along my bottom lid and gathers the tears threatening to ruin my makeup.

  “It was hard for me too,” his blue eyes stare into mine earnestly. “But, now I know I can give you all of me, not just fragments left over from the war. I’m not saying I’m perfect. I mean, I’m pretty close, obviously,” he teases me.

  “You are.” I know he’s kidding around, but I’m not.

  Mack smiles. “Thank you. Too bad I didn’t record that. It would’ve been perfect for six months from now when you’re giving me a hard time about leaving the toilet seat up or something.”

  The reference doesn’t escape me. My heart soars as I digest his words. He wasn’t us to live together? Before I can respond, a waiter interrupts our chat with a bottle of champagne and two glasses on a tray.

  “May I start your evening with a drink?” He offers.

  “Yes, thank you,” Mack nods. The man places the glasses between us and then reaches for the bottle.

  “You can just leave the bottle with us. We have a lot to celebrate,” Mack grins.

  Our server doesn’t argue; he simply places it between us. “Your dinner will be ready shortly,” he informs Mack before disappearing back over my shoulder.

  I shouldn’t be surprised that Mack also had our prom for two catered, but I am. Just like the man who just walked across the floor to the set up the turn tables in the back corner shouldn’t surprise me either, but here we are.

  Soft music floods the sound system and Mack pours each of us a glass of the bubbly champagne. He lifts his glass in a toast, and I imitate him, eager to hear what he has to say.

  “Lauren, you look just as beautiful tonight as you did a decade ago. I was the luckiest man at our prom then, and tonight you’ve made me the luckiest man in the world tonight by being on my arm.”

  “Thank you,” I don’t know what else to say, Mack’s never been one for flowery speeches, but I guess he’s just full of surprises tonight.

  “No, thank you.” He answers. “I figured that there was no better place to ask for a mulligan than at a golf club, so…”

  “A mulligan?” I interrupt. I’m not sure what he’s talking about.

  “Yeah
, it’s a golf term. It’s for a do over? You’ve never heard that before?” His eyes crinkle at the corners, “look, all you need to know is that besides being incredibly handsome, I’m also very witty,” he laughs.

  “And humble, too,” I tease him.

  “Yes, humble as fuck,” he grins. There’s my old Mack. “Anyway, to new beginnings,” he raises his glass higher and I raise mine.

  The first sip of the champagne is heaven; the tiny bubbles tickle my lips but feel smooth on my tongue.

  Mack empties his glass in one long gulp, then takes a deep breath. “Lauren?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Will you dance with me?”

  My ears are ringing with shock. Never in my entire life has Mack danced with me. Never. No matter how much I’ve pleaded, or whined, or threatened him with teenaged angst. He’s never given in.

  “Of course,” I barely breathe the words, like they’re caught in my throat.

  He stands up and holds his hand out to me, and I steady myself with his strength and follow him to the dance floor. The music suddenly changes to Coldplay.

  Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry You don't know how lovely you are I had to find you Tell you I need you Tell you I set you apart Tell me your secrets And ask me your questions Oh, let's go back to the start

  Perfect. Absolutely perfect song with my absolutely perfect man. This couldn’t possibly get any better. Mack holds my waist and dances with all of the grace of a middle school boy, but it’s so charming, I just love him even more for his lack of skill.

  I lean my head against his chest and breathe him in. “Thank you for this Mack. For all of this. I, well, I don’t even know what to say except that it’s magical.”

  Tell me you love me Come back and haunt me Oh, and I rush to the start Running in circles Chasing our tails Coming back as we are

  “That’s appropriate,” he chuckles and I look up at him.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Didn’t our first prom have a princess theme or something?” He looks down at me.

  “Yeah, well, the theme was fairy tales. So, yeah, it’s fitting that tonight is magical,” I smile back.