A Soldier for Suzie: A Military Romantic Comedy (Love will OUT Book 3)

by D. E. Haggerty

  Phoebe pouts. “Why? She pushed and pushed until I gave you a chance and you kidnapped me.”

  Pain flashes in Ryker’s eyes before he blinks, and it’s gone again. Someone still feels guilty for what he did despite having his reasons – and they were good reasons.

  “I have a feeling pushing Suzie isn’t going to get you anywhere,” Ryker admits.

  Damn right, it won’t! Suzie is Ms. Single until the end of time. My heart clenches at the thought but my head reminds her of the snake in the grass, aka Toby. Argument settled.

  “Hey,” Grayson says as he comes up behind me.

  Ryker and Grayson do some complicated man hug thing. Aiden gets in on the action by slapping Grayson on the back. Phoebe rolls her eyes at me and mouths men. See? Men don’t know how to handle their emotions. It’s up to me to solve Grayson’s problems. It’s what friends do.

  “How should we divide into teams?” Grayson asks as he looks around at the group.

  Aiden’s grin is sly. “Men and against women?”

  Phoebe shrugs. “Sure.”

  Hailey laughs and stands on her tiptoes to get in Aiden’s face. “We’re going to kick your asses.”

  The men chuckle and shake their heads at us as if we’re cute. We’ll show them! I nearly rub my hands in glee, but I manage to keep my poker face in place. I happen to be an awesome bowler. Beer and bowling are my jam. Hailey isn’t too bad either, since I often drag her to the alley with me.

  I plop down to put on my bowling shoes.

  “You have your own bowling shoes?” Grayson asks.

  “Yep.” I don’t tell him it’s because I bowl all the time. No, I’m having too much fun scamming them. “I’m not putting my feet where other people have. How do I know their socks are clean?” I do an exaggerated shiver.

  Of course, he swallows my lie hook, line, and sinker. Being a compulsive cleaner comes in handy sometimes. He looks at his rental shoes for a long moment before shrugging and sitting next to me to change shoes.

  I bump his shoulder. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine.” I wait for him to expand, but he doesn’t. Whatever. I’ve got him. I’ll fix his problems.

  “Suzie,” Hailey shouts. “You’re up first.”

  I open my bowling bag and remove my bowling ball.

  “You have your own ball?”

  I’m prepared for his question. I wiggle my fingers at him. “Tiny hands equal tiny fingers.”

  He takes a bit longer to swallow this lie, but he does. This is going to be too much fun.

  I give my rear an extra wiggle as I walk to the approach area. Once I’m there, I let all the noise fall away and concentrate on my throw. The ball flies down the lane and boom! Strike, baby, strike!

  I twirl around and bat my eyelashes at the boys. “Must be beginner’s luck.”

  I watch as Grayson takes his first throw. He’s obviously bowled some as he knocks down eight pins. He winks when he notices me watching him. I cross my arms over my chest and wait for his second throw. It should be an easy spare, but he misses both pins on his second chance. I may smirk.

  “Phoebe, you’re up,” Hailey shouts from where she’s sitting at the command center.

  It’s not literally a command center. Everything in bowling is automated nowadays. There’s no need to keep score, but she likes to sit in front of the computer and pretend she’s in charge. I let her.

  Phoebe bites her lip as she stands.

  “Do you need help?” I ask, but she waves me away. Alrighty then.

  She glances over at Ryker to see how he’s putting his fingers in the holes. She follows his lead and adopts a conventional grip. Then she watches as he takes his first chance. When he finishes, she scrunches up her nose and studies our lane.

  “You got this, Pheebs.” I clap to encourage her.

  She swings the ball back and then throws it forward. But instead of the ball flying down the lane, it sails upwards toward the ceiling. “Aaaah!” she screams and covers her head.

  The ball curves and drops in front of a young girl, barely missing her. The girl’s eyes widen to the size of saucers. She stands frozen staring at the ball that literally dropped from the sky to land at her feet. I hear the sound of water splashing and look down to see the poor girl has literally peed herself.

  “Ohmygod!” Phoebe rushes to her, but at her approach, the girl screams and bursts into tears. I can’t blame her. The ball scared the stuffing out of me, and I wasn’t anywhere near the danger zone.

  The girl’s dad rushes to her and picks her up and carries her off. Phoebe tries to follow but the man gives her a vicious look stopping her in her tracks.

  Ryker tags Phoebe’s hand and leads her away. “Come on. There’s nothing you can do.”

  “Clean up on aisle five,” I shout.

  Ryker snarls. “Not funny, Suze. Not funny.”

  He sits and places Phoebe in his lap. “I am never bowling again!” she declares.

  Probably the best idea she’s had all night. I stand and take my bowling towel from my bag. I quickly clean up the puddle of pee and then walk over to the bar to throw the towel away. Yes, I know washing machines exist, but I am not keeping a towel that was once used to mop up pee. Not happening.

  As I’m walking past the refrigerator with bottled beer, I pause when something catches my eye. I yank the door open to get a closer look. I can’t believe it. What the hell? I grab a bottle of my beer and march to the counter.

  The bartender startles when I slam the bottle down on the bar. “Where did you get this beer?”

  His brow wrinkles as he looks at it. “From the back room?”

  “And why was it in the back room? I want to talk to the manager!”

  Hailey sidles up to me. “What’s going on, crazy girl?”

  I point to the bottle. “They have my beer.”

  “Wahoo!” she cheers. “Awesome.” She motions to our group. “Hey, everyone! They have Suzie’s beer here.”

  I bat her hand out of the air. “You don’t understand. They shouldn’t have my beer.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t have a contract with them.”

  She shrugs. “Big deal. They probably bought a couple of cases from your online store and are selling it.”

  “But—”

  Grayson throws his arm around my shoulders. “But Suzie doesn’t want anyone to know about how awesome her beers are. Isn’t that right? You’re scared to let people try them.”

  I scowl at him and shuffle forward until he has to drop his arm. I may be extremely pissed the bowling alley is selling my beer without signing a distribution contract with me, but my body is more interested in lighting up like a freaking Christmas tree when he touches me. Stupid body.

  “Stop trying to bait me.”

  He smirks. “But it’s fun.” He lays a five-dollar bill down on the bar before taking the bottle of Short but Stout. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  “But I want to talk to the manager,” I grump as they try to shuffle me back to our lane.

  “Fine. But if you don’t take your turn, you’ll have to forfeit.” Grayson raises his eyebrow in an obvious challenge.

  “Forfeit,” I growl. “I am not forfeiting. You want me to forfeit because we are kicking your asses.”

  Somewhat of an exaggeration since we’ve only bowled one frame and Phoebe didn’t actually take her turn.

  “I’ll let you bowl for Phoebe,” Hailey says.

  Darn it. She knows she has me. “Fine,” I give in.

  We spend the next couple of hours bowling and goofing off. Anytime my eyes stray to the bar, Grayson snaps his fingers in front of my face and shakes his finger at me. What is he? An old lady trapped inside a hot man’s body? I force my eyes to remain on his and not go roaming over his body although roaming his body is exactly what my eyes and fingers and tongue want to do.

  “That cheered me up!” Grayson declares as he walks me to my truck.

  “Ah-ha! You admit you
needed cheering up.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Give it up, girl.”

  I smile and nod as if I agree. I don’t. Sneaky Suzie is coming to your rescue, Grayson. You just wait and see.

  Chapter 13

  What did the bottle write on the postcard? Wish you were beer!

  I hum and sing along with the radio as I drive out of Milwaukee. I’m on my way to meet Grayson’s buddy’s widow. It’s taken me a week to put all the puzzle pieces together and figure out who the buddy and widow are. In the end, it was easy. A huge duh moment.

  I started my research by going through newspaper accounts of military deaths in Afghanistan. There were way more than I thought. It was heartbreaking. From there, I tried to find a connection to Grayson. But he doesn’t talk about his time in the military. I have no idea what unit he was in let alone when exactly he was overseas.

  And then I remembered something Wally said. Grayson didn’t go back to his hometown after his discharge because of his buddy’s death. Maybe his buddy was from his hometown. I know Grayson grew up in Merrill, a small town in northern Wisconsin. Sure enough, I found a story of a soldier from Merrill killed in action when his Humvee drove over an IED.

  From there it was a simple Google search to find out where Liz Morris, widow of Bill Morris, lives. And now I’m driving the three hours from Milwaukee to Merrill to meet her. I didn’t call in advance. I’m not sure how she feels about Grayson. Maybe he feels guilty because she blames her husband’s death on Grayson.

  It’s all a big fat mess, but I’m going to unravel everything and fix Grayson. He won’t see me coming.

  After a stop for lunch, I park in front of the Morris residence around two. I would have liked to arrive earlier, but it’s Sunday, and I didn’t want to have to wait for church to get out. It’s way too cold for waiting outside. My mom may be onto something with the whole no coming up north in the winter thing.

  There’s a car in the driveaway and the lights are on. Looks like Liz and her baby boy are home. No more stalling. My hand shakes as I reach for the door handle. Stop it. I berate myself. There’s nothing to be nervous about. I’m sure Liz is a lovely person.

  I ring the doorbell and stomp my boots as I wait for her to answer. The door opens and a blonde woman a few inches taller than me wearing her Sunday best answers.

  “Can I help you?”

  I smile. “Hi. Are you Liz Morris?”

  Her eyes narrow. “Who are you?”

  “I’m a friend of Grayson’s.”

  A little head peeks around her legs. “I’m Grayson, but I don’t know you.”

  I bend down to look at him face to face. “I’m Suzie. My Grayson is an adult.”

  “Oh.” His eyes widen. “Uncle Grayson?”

  I nod before standing and holding my hand out to Liz. “I’m Suzie Langley. Can I come in?”

  She shakes my hand. “Any friend of Grayson’s is welcome here.”

  Phew. By the sound of it, she doesn’t hate Grayson. Fingers crossed she doesn’t blame him for her husband’s death. After I take off my boots and jacket, she directs me to the living room.

  “Can I get you something to drink? I was making some hot cocoa for us.”

  “Hot cocoa sounds lovely, but I don’t want to put you out.”

  She waves off my concern. “It’s no problem. The pan is still warm.”

  While she walks to the kitchen, I look around the place. It’s small but cozy and organized. Even the corner for Grayson’s toys is arranged in a proper fashion. It feels weird referring to a small boy as Grayson. Grayson is a big strong soldier, not a little boy, I think as I survey the rest of the room. The furniture is worn but clean and comfortable. It looks like Liz is doing all right for herself, except for being widowed way too young, of course.

  Liz returns and hands me a mug of cocoa. I take a sip to stall. I probably should have rehearsed what I’m going to say, but I like to wing it. It’s more authentic.

  “You said you’re a friend of Grayson. Is he okay?”

  I put my mug down on the coffee table. “Not exactly.” When she gasps, I quickly continue. “He’s fine. Physically at least. Mentally, though, the man is messed up.”

  Her eyes close and her chin drops to her chest. I feel like a total shit for bringing all this up with her, but I’m letting Grayson wallow in his grief and guilt.

  “He blames himself,” she says when she lifts her head.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s not his fault insurgents planted an IED along the roadside and Bill’s patrol drove over it.”

  She’s preaching to the choir. “I agree, but Grayson seems to be spiraling.”

  “Spiraling how?”

  “He hasn’t gone on a crime spree or started shooting up drugs, but he’s clearly depressed. And his living conditions?” I wrinkle my nose.

  “Darn. I told him to stop sending us money. We’re doing fine without it.”

  “Sending you money?”

  Wally didn’t mention Grayson supporting Liz’s family, and as far as I know, Grayson isn’t working while he’s attending school. He doesn’t have money to throw around. I think. I’m starting to realize I don’t know much about the man.

  “It’s not much. Fifty dollars here, one hundred there. But it sounds like he can’t miss it. Where is he living? Please tell me he isn’t homeless. You hear these horror stories about homeless vets.”

  I slap my forehead with my palm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to exaggerate. He has a perfectly fine apartment, except he’s not taking proper care of his place. It’s not like him.”

  Or I assume it’s not like him. Frankly, I don’t know for sure. But I know I’m not exaggerating about Grayson’s depression. He’s not acting like himself.

  Liz puffs out a breath of air. “At least he has a place.”

  Her son Grayson comes running into the room full tilt. He doesn’t stop until he’s at his mother’s feet. “Can I watch Super Why? Please, please, please.”

  She ruffles his hair. “Yes, but in my bedroom. We’re talking.”

  He rushes off but returns seconds later. “Thank you!” he shouts before running off again.

  “He’s adorable.”

  Her face lights up with my praise of her son. “Yes, and very advanced for his age.”

  “How old is he?”

  “He recently turned four.”

  For some reason, I assumed he was a baby. The timeline is confusing me, but it’s not what is important right now. “You named him Grayson?”

  “Bill insisted. Those two – Bill and Grayson – were thick as thieves from kindergarten on. I met them when my family moved here when I was in middle school. I fell in love with Bill at first sight, but it took him longer to get with the program. I went off to college and Bill and Grayson joined the Army. Bill finally noticed me when he was home on leave one summer. We got together and the rest is history.”

  “I’m sorry you lost him.” I can’t imagine. I can’t get over a man betraying me, and she has to deal with the heartbreak of her husband dying.

  “Yes, thank you.” She clears her throat. “Anyway, what can I do for you?”

  “I was hoping you could talk to Grayson, make him understand it’s not his fault Bill died.”

  She shakes her head. “I’ve tried and tried. He won’t listen. He won’t pick up the phone when I call. And when he visits his parents, he avoids me like the plague.”

  “What if you came to Milwaukee to see him? Like a surprise visit.” She starts to shake her head again, but I stop her. “I’ll pay for everything. Your gas to drive down, a hotel room if you want to stay overnight. Or you can stay with me. I have plenty of room.”

  It’s true. I bought my house when I thought I was going to marry my shithead ex and have lots of children. I should have sold it when everything went down, but I couldn’t. I love my house. And I wasn’t going to let that man take one more thing from me.

  She stands. “I’ll think about it.”

  Loo
ks like it’s time for me to leave. I can take a hint. I dig a card out of my purse. “Here’s my information. Call me if you decide to come. Or just call me if you want to talk. I’m a good listener.” Or at least, I’ll try to be for her sake.

  She takes my card, but by the way she looks at me, I’m afraid she’s going to throw it in the garbage the minute I leave. No problem. I can come up with another plan to help Grayson because I will help Grayson. Come hell or high water, I will not let the man wallow in his depression.

  Chapter 14

  IPA a lot when I drink beer.

  I need to step up my efforts to cheer Grayson up since it looks like my plan to fix Grayson is not going to work out anytime soon. UGH! I was sure Liz would be understanding and jump on the bandwagon to fix Grayson. She was understanding, but she wasn’t jumping on any bandwagons.

  Darts and beer tonight at McGraw’s?

  No answer. I try again.

  Come on. I’ll let you win.

  Still no answer. I throw my phone in the drawer and slam it shut.

  “What’s wrong? Trouble in paradise?” Hailey asks as she steps out of her office.

  I feign innocence. “What? My drawer is sticking is all.”

  “Here. Let me try.” She leans forward and I slap her hand away.

  “You know you’re not allowed to dig in my drawers.” The woman is a menace. She never puts things back where they belong. After I spent a week looking for my favorite stapler – and yes, I have a favorite stapler, don’t judge – I banned her from going near my workspace.

  Phoebe skids to a stop in front of us. “What’s going on? Did I hear someone say drawers?” She looks me up and down. “Did you finally let Grayson into your drawers?”

  I roll my eyes. “What are we? In Shakespearean England? No one says drawers when they mean panties.”

  “Actually, Shakespeare didn’t—”

  I hold up my hand to cut Hailey off. No one wants to hear a lecture about proper Shakespearean dialogue. The woman is a drama geek at heart. Even when Aiden did this elaborate Shakespeare-themed proposal, she kept stopping him to correct him. It was hilarious.