Bad Girls Don't Marry Marines (Rock Canyon Romance #3)

by Codi Gary

  But when Justin had gone by her house to see her the next day, her dad had told him Val was gone and that he didn’t want Fred Silverton’s son anywhere near his daughter.

  It had stung that she’d left without telling him, but Justin had finally figured out that their night had meant more to him than her. He’d moved on and gotten over what could have been.

  Until today, when he’d gone and made an ass of himself, insinuating she should share her bottle of wine with him. When had he become a desperate idiot who needed to chase after a woman who clearly wanted nothing to do with him?

  “Hey, are you listening to me?”

  Justin realized Everett had been talking. “Sorry, man.”

  “What is up with you? Is it girl problems?” Everett asked, his smirk lifting up the good side of his face.

  He returned his brother’s smile, but there was no way he was going to talk about his epic strike-out with Valerie. His brother would have a field day with that one.

  “I’m fine. What’s up?”

  “We need to do something about Dad,” Everett said, picking at the label of his beer.

  Justin sighed. It felt like they had this conversation every couple of weeks, but there never seemed to be a good solution. Their dad’s alcoholism was a huge point of contention between them.

  Everett wanted to find an alcohol treatment center that would take their dad without his consent, but Justin thought that if it wasn’t his choice, nothing they tried to do would help.

  “Come on, Rett. He’s got to do it for himself.”

  “I don’t like the way he looks lately. He’s pale, and I swear he’s lost a good twenty pounds. A couple times he’s been helping me and then suddenly he clutches his stomach, and when I try to help, he waves me off and heads for the house. I think there’s something really wrong, but if I suggest he go get checked out, he’s going to tell me to mind my own business.”

  Justin had also noticed their dad seemed to be dropping weight. “I’ll mention to him that he looks like shit and see what he says. Who knows, maybe he’ll agree to go; miracles happen every day.”

  “Well, I can’t ask for more than that,” his brother said, setting his empty beer bottle on the workbench. “I better go tend to my chores. See you later.”

  Justin shook his head to clear it and said, “Yeah, see ya.” Finishing his beer, he turned up the radio and the heater, his breath still fogging in front of him.

  “Thank you for listening to the Kat, and stay tuned, because we are stocked up with prizes to help you make it through this Valentine’s Day. For all you lucky people out there who already have Valentines, or at least someone in mind, stay tuned for your next chance to win tickets to see Brad Paisley, February 14th! Just listen for Brad’s ‘Little Moments’ to win.” Kat Country DJ Callie Jacobsen called out through the speakers, and Justin’s ears perked up. He’d tried to get tickets to that show, but they’d sold out so fast, he’d been shit out of luck. “And for all of you singles, how would you like to win an all-inclusive weekend vacation to the place where perfect matches are made? Just listen for this jingle . . .”

  VAL STOOD IN front of her stove stirring in the powdered cheese packet of her mac and cheese while her English bulldog, Gus, sat at her feet, licking his monstrous chops.

  “This is my lunch, Gus-man. Your belly is starting to drag.”

  The dog whimpered and pawed at her with his short front leg, his brown eyes begging for her to share. She loved her dog, a gift from Cole for her twenty-third birthday, and she had fought hard to keep him during the divorce. Cole had wanted Gus for breeding but had finally relented when she’d let him have her Porsche. It was a silly car to have, especially in winter, and Gus was worth it. She’d had his sperm collected, since he did have champion lines, and neutered him.

  She was just pouring the milk into the saucepan when there was a pounding on her front door and she sloshed it all over the counter.

  “Crap.”

  Whoever it was, they were knocking so hard it was shaking the door of her comfortable little ranch house. It couldn’t compare to the huge mansion she’d lived in with Cole, but the house actually felt like a home and not a prison. She hurried to the door and swung it wide open, ready to give whoever it was a piece of her mind.

  Ellie stood on her doorstep with three suitcases and a woebegone expression. Val’s heart sank.

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing, Dad’s just overreacting. Again.” Ellie hefted up one of the bags and gave Val her best pleading look. “Can I stay with you for a while? Please?”

  Val groaned and leaned her head against the doorjamb. She loved her sister, but she was five years younger than Val, and instead of going off to college somewhere, she’d decided to just take classes at the local junior college, where she was barely passing and spent more time skipping class than going. Her friends were the troublemakers in town, and Val did not want them coming over all the time, wrecking her house and pissing her off.

  Standing firm, Val laid down the law. “Rules first.”

  “Come on, Val, it’s freezing,” Ellie whined, making her usual dark beauty dim a little in Val’s mind. Her sister had definitely gotten their mother’s body, with curves to make a man sweat, but she wasn’t as mature as she looked.

  “Rule number one: pick up after yourself. I am not a maid.”

  “Fine. Sure. Hurry up,” Ellie pleaded, hopping from one UGG-booted foot to the other.

  “Number two: your little friends are not allowed in the house when I’m not here.”

  “God, you really need to get laid,” Ellie said, but when Val started to shut the door, she yelled, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Yes! No friends over when you aren’t home.”

  Val stepped back and Ellie started dragging her bags in, kissing Val’s cheek on her way. As she started down the hallway, Val remembered one last thing. “And no men in this house. This is a man-free zone.”

  Her sister muttered something Val couldn’t hear, but she let it go. Her sister could think she was being an uptight prude all she wanted, but Val believed her attitude was more about self-preservation.

  Looking down into Gus’s smushed face, she frowned. “Did I make the right choice?”

  Gus growled, and Val had to agree with him.

  Chapter Two

  * * *

  “THIS IS HAROLD the Great and you are listening to Kat Country. That was Florida-Georgia Line and their song, ‘Stay.’ Now I know some of you are waiting for your chance to win Brad Paisley tickets and I promise we’re gonna do this in the next hour, so stick around.”

  Justin sighed as he pulled his truck out of the driveway. He’d been listening all day for those tickets and he had a feeling he was going to miss the song.

  He was on his way to Buck’s Shot Bar to meet up with his best friend, Jared, and his wife, Stephanie. Usually he didn’t mind being a third wheel; it had been that way since Jared had first seen Steph freshman year and had fallen head over heart for the green-eyed spitfire. Most people said in this day and age high school sweethearts couldn’t make it together, but Jared and Steph were the exception.

  Lately, though, he’d been envious of their relationship, wanting someone of his own who knew his habits, could finish his sentences. It sounded cheesy as hell, but it was the kind of thing his mother had talked about when she was alive.

  His parents had been happy and in love for most of his childhood, up until he was twelve. His dad had made a bad investment and had had to risk everything to save the farm. His mother had wanted to sell it, take the money, and live modestly, but his father was firm; the farm had been in his family for generations and he wasn’t going to sell. Ever.

  The night of their last big fight, his mother had gone to stay at a hotel. The roads had been slick, and the police figured she’d hit a patch of black ice. It was hours before another driver saw her car overturned, and by the time any rescue attempts were made, she was already gone. The doctors said she’d died on imp
act, but Justin had always thought they were just trying to make her husband and sons feel better.

  A few months after her death, Edward Willis had started visiting their ranch often, and for a while, his dad had been in good spirits. Then one night, he and Everett had heard them screaming at each other. Justin had overheard most of it. Edward had called Fred a “stupid, drunk lowlife who’d ruined everything.” Fred had screamed that Edward was an “uppity prick with a stick up his ass.” It wasn’t until they’d started throwing punches that Everett had stepped between them, breaking up the fight, despite Fred’s orders for his son to mind his own business. It had taken more than a tap on the chin to get their dad to stop struggling. After Edward had peeled out of their gravel driveway, Fred had continued to rage, and it had taken both of them to get their dad upstairs and calm him down.

  Though Justin had missed his mom, his dad had taken her death the hardest. Justin had tagged along with Everett for the next two years, picking his dad up from whatever bar he’d managed to close down.

  When Everett had announced he was joining the Marines after high school graduation, his dad had been accepting and proud. Justin had figured it was because the two had butted heads at every turn, but he’d known Fred had still worried.

  So, at barely fourteen, Justin had followed in his older brother’s footsteps, riding his bike into town and driving his dad home when he was too bombed to function. He’d never gotten caught for driving without a license, but hell, he’d been driving their old truck on the farm since he was twelve. Still, as soon as he turned fifteen, he was at the DMV, taking his test. For the next three years, he’d skipped out on dates, hanging with his friends, and even prom to pick up his dad.

  But when Justin had announced his own intentions to enlist, his dad had exploded about being abandoned and had even tried to bargain with him.

  “If you want to go to college, I could probably swing it. You could take some Ag and business courses here and—”

  “When are you going to realize, I don’t want this life?” For the first time in his seventeen years, Justin had stood up and gotten mad, clenching his fists as he yelled, “I don’t want to work this run-down piece of dirt until I lose everything and end up a bitter old drunk like—”

  His dad had taken a swing at him, but because he was already halfway through a bottle, he’d been unbalanced. Though shocked, Justin had avoided the right hook and could only watch as his dad fell over the coffee table and hit the floor. After a moment’s hesitation, Justin had picked him up and helped him to his room to sleep it off. He hadn’t mentioned leaving again until the week he was scheduled to report to recruit training.

  “What am I gonna do without you, boy?” his dad had whispered. Stone cold sober, instead of being angry, his father had seemed disappointed and sad, but Justin was resolute. He wanted to be anything but a farmer, and if a college education and a trade could do that for him, it was worth it.

  After Justin had left, Jared started working for Fred, helping Silverton Farms become a profitable business again. But once Jared got his teaching license and left, the business manager he’d hired to help out had rubbed Fred wrong.

  Justin had been in the Marines eight years, finishing up his third tour when he’d gotten a letter from his dad begging him to come home and help out. After what had happened to his brother, he had been planning to get out anyway, but when the letter came, he knew it was the right thing to do.

  Thinking it was just going to be a few months, he’d agreed. But four years later, he now had a mechanics license to work on tractors, a bachelor’s degree in business, and a small two-bedroom on the east side of the property. It hadn’t taken him long to get wrapped up in the farm’s success. Even when Everett had brought up finding a new business manager, giving him the opportunity to escape the chains of the farm, he hadn’t taken his chance. After all the work he’d put in, turning the farm over to a stranger had just seemed wrong.

  Funny how the old saying “All roads lead home” was especially true in his case.

  Kat Country’s night DJ, Harold, broke through Justin’s deep thoughts as he announced the ten-day forecast and then, suddenly, Brad Paisley’s voice sang out through his speakers.

  Remembering the radio contest, Justin pulled over. He grabbed his phone and dialed the number, waiting impatiently as it rang.

  “Come on. Come on.”

  Harold came over the line.

  “Winner! Winner! Who do I have on the line?”

  “It’s Justin Silverton.” His normally deep voice sounded almost squeaky to his ears; he’d never won anything.

  “Well, Justin, you’ve won two front-row tickets to see Brad on Valentine’s Day in Boise. Do you have a special girl you’re planning on taking?”

  “Not yet, Harold.” Justin grinned, thinking it wouldn’t be hard to find a date for a concert, even on Valentine’s Day. And if worse came to worst, he could always take Everett.

  “All right. Hang on, man, and we’ll get some information from ya.”

  Justin held the line until Harold came back and took his name, address, and phone number. He hung up feeling good and pulled back onto the road, the drive going by faster as his brain considered potential dates. But one face stuck out in particular. A face that held a pair of dark brown eyes and pale, creamy skin.

  You heard what she said, idiot. She’s not dating, especially not a man her uptight daddy can’t stand the sight of.

  Valerie Willis would never agree to go out with him; he might as well push her from his mind before he made himself crazy.

  VALERIE WAS SITTING on the couch, scrolling through the satellite channels while Gus panted beside her, when she heard her sister’s door open. Without turning around, she called, “Hey, you wanna watch a movie? Your choices are a scary stalker movie on Lifetime, a Katherine Heigl movie on HBO, or—”

  “Sorry, but I’m heading out,” Ellie said, cutting her off.

  Val turned to look at her sister—and the lingerie she called clothing—and resisted the urge to yell.

  “You should probably just take the shirt off; it’s not like they can’t see the whole thing anyway.” Val shouldn’t have said it, but geez, it was eighteen degrees outside, and Ellie was wearing a white crocheted sweater with a black bra beneath, showing patches of skin through quarter-sized holes. Her ripped jeans were skintight with boots pulled over the skinny legs. Even in her heyday, Val had never been so obvious.

  Ellie rolled her hazel eyes and flipped her hair. “Whatever; don’t wait up.”

  Val called after her sister’s retreating back, “Uh, no. Where are you going and when will you be back? I don’t want to worry about you.”

  Ellie spun around, exasperated. “Oh, come on! I left one dictator, I don’t need another.”

  Val took a breath and counted to ten as she stood up, walking around the couch to stand in front of her sister, who was only a few inches taller but whose frame made her seem bigger. She envied her sister’s curves. Val barely filled a B cup, and with short legs and narrow hips, she definitely lacked back.

  “I’m not trying to control you, Ellie. You’re an adult, but if you’re staying with me, I need to know you’re safe.”

  “I’ll call you. We’ll probably just go to Buck’s or something,” Ellie said, her tone turning screechy with irritation.

  Val wished she could explain why she was so overprotective, but that would drag up all kinds of dark memories better left buried. The best she could do was say, “Thanks for letting me know. Just send me a text once in a while so I know you aren’t lying dead in a ditch, okay?”

  “No prob.” Ellie gave Val a brief hug, and when they pulled back, she asked, “Do you want to come? It would be good to get you out of this old-lady funk you seem to be enjoying.”

  Val changed her voice to a high-pitched, shaky tone, mimicking an old woman. “Back in my day, missy, I could have taught you a thing or two about being bad.”

  “Then come on, Granny, lets party.
I promise fun.” Ellie’s gaze traveled over Val’s yoga pants, bulky sweater, and slippers, frowning. “You have to change, though.”

  Val laughed and shoved her sister toward the door. “Get out of here. And be safe.”

  “I’ll help you get your groove back, Val, just wait and see.”

  Ellie grabbed a puffy jacket and slammed the door behind her, making Val wince as a few of her knickknacks teetered on the edge of breaking.

  Had she really become grandma-ish, watching the world pass her by? She was only twenty-six, but some days she felt like she was fifty.

  As she sat back down on the couch and flipped through the channels again, she tried to remember the last time she’d cut loose and had fun. It was depressing how far back she had to go to find a memory. Sure, she’d been a partyer in college, until she’d met Cole her senior year at Boise State, but if she were being really honest with herself, the best memory she had from her wild days was the night she’d spent with Justin Silverton.

  She’d been turning seventeen a few days later and her friends had found out about a party down by the river. She’d waited for her dad to go to sleep and crawled out of the window, just like Caroline had. Val had snuck out quite a few times with her older sister, but the thrill of doing it by herself had been a new high.

  There had been four of them. Thea Andrews had managed to get around her overbearing mother only to offer to be the designated driver. Val had bumped into Thea since being back in town, and Thea had become exactly who her mother had wanted her to be: the perfect wife and mother. Everything Val wasn’t.

  Pushing back the thought, Val concentrated on that night. Charlene Hamilton and Hope Reynolds—now Weathers, after marrying Officer Sam Weathers—had sat in the back, giggling and singing loudly, already drunk on half a bottle of vanilla vodka and Coke, and Val had joined them.