21 Marine Salute: 21 Always a Marine Tales (117 page)

She bent over the oven, jeans stretched taut across her sweet ass giving him an eyeful. Forcing his gaze upward, he caught another Marine admiring her and, with a frown, sent the man back to work. Judging by her cheerful disposition as she danced back to her claimed workstation, she was having a good time.

The lyrics and smile faltered when she noticed him. Guilt slid through her cheerful expression. “I know, I took it off.”

“It’s okay.” Not really. He hated that she hadn’t left them on, but practicality told him the kitchen listed as a safe zone and it was hot—too hot for the helmet. Not when sweat curled the wisps of hair escaping from her braid against her forehead and neck. He didn’t like the way her expression fell or the guilt tightening the lines around her eyes.

“But I agreed—” she argued.

“Did you get permission before you removed them?” He folded his arms. If she wanted to plead her case, he’d allow it. From her e-mails, he knew she enjoyed making her point.

“Sergeant Hall said it was okay.”

The aforementioned sergeant gave him a quick nod of assent.

“Then it’s okay. Safety first and it’s hot in here, so you were in more danger of heat exhaustion with it on. Makes sense.”

A sudden cheer lit her face, and his heart donkey-kicked his ribs. Nothing about this woman was as it should be. A civilian in a war zone, a mourning sister fixing Thanksgiving dinner, a protectee who filled him with primal lust and need—yeah, not at all what it should be.

“Phew. I worried since I promised to follow all the rules.” She added the bread pan to the shelf and set her oven mitts aside. Blowing a puff of breath upward in a vain effort to cool her forehead, she glanced around. “What do you think? These guys really know what they’re doing. We’re almost done with all the desserts and breads. I just put in the last ten loaves and five more pies. The brisket is cooking, then we’ll start the turkeys late tonight, so they can slow roast all night long….”

His body reacted to the last three words, but he managed a nod. “It looks fantastic.” She looked even better than the food. “Do you have time for a break?”

“Um….” She glanced around for Sergeant Hall. “Sergeant? Can you keep an eye on the bread? Everything needs to come out in about thirty minutes.”

“We got this. Go take a break, ma’am.” His immediate agreement brought another smile to Jana’s face.

“Thank you. I’ll be back to tackle turkeys when the evening meal is done. I also promised to put together those muffins for the breakfast call tomorrow.”

Charlie frowned. Did she plan on spending her entire night in the kitchen? She hesitated and reached for her gear.

“It’s fine.” He shook his head. “Carry it with you, but we’re still in a secure spot.” The room had high windows, with shutters that let it light, but obscured a view and his table was far from the main doors. Not perfect, but it would have to do.

Gratitude curved her mouth and warmed her eyes. “Well, for that you get to sample the peach cobbler I made earlier. We won’t have enough for tomorrow, so Sergeant Hall recommended giving it to the officers for tonight’s meal.”

“Did he now? Generous.” He guided her from the kitchen and into the bustling mess. Fortunately, the officers he usually ate with had already finished their meals, so he had Jana all to himself. Ignoring the internal fist pump of glee, he pulled a chair out for her and waited until she settled before sitting. A private delivered two trays and, apparently, the cobbler wasn’t all Hall had arranged for the officers to have—fresh, doughy rolls accompanied stew for the evening menu.

Jana offered him her cobbler. “You want extra?”

He lifted his brows. “Should I be worried the cook doesn’t want to eat her own dessert?”

A warm pink suffused her cheeks and she chuckled. “Actually, I don’t tend to eat a lot when I get a good binge meal prep going. I think it’s smelling all the food and sampling now and again—it fills me up—not to mention I don’t really need the added calories. If I ate some of everything I fixed, I’d be big as a barn.”

Bullshit
.

But he kept a lid on the thought. She possessed an exquisite body, with generous hips and a lush, curvaceous ass. If anything, he thought she could stand to gain a few pounds. “Well, why don’t we eat first and if you still don’t want your cobbler, we’ll discuss it then.”

“Fair enough.” She slid the little bowl back into place and glanced around the room. “Thank you, again.”

“For?” He tore a roll in half and dipped it into the stew. He’d had the cook’s stew a few times and her version added new flavor to the normally bland fare. Charlie cared less about the food than the company.

“For being interested.”

The candor in her response shocked him. Stuffing the gravy-soaked roll into his mouth, he bought some time to consider his reply. She couldn’t possibly be thanking him for his sexual interest. She cradled her coffee cup and sipped the black brew without benefit of sugar or cream. She had to be related to a Marine to swallow the sludge without a grimace.

“Finals week.”

The non sequitur threw him. He unscrewed the cap on his water bottle. “I’m sorry, what?” He wanted sleep and even if it eluded him, he preferred to not be jittery.

“You stared at me drinking the coffee like I should hate it, but this is no worse than what I drink during finals week. I double brew—pour one pot of coffee through twice so it’s super strong and could burn through your stomach like battery acid.” She lifted an arm and flexed. “Okay, maybe just super awake. Then I can cram and pass my tests.”

God, she’s young
.

The thought troubled him. She couldn’t be more than twenty-two, if that. He didn’t recall if he’d read her age in the file he’d received or the orders or she’d mentioned it to him in one of their half-dozen e-mail exchanges. Younger than he by seven or more years, but not even cold reality took away from her appeal. She really was a breath of fresh air in the hot, dusty desert.

“Well, take it slowly or you won’t be sleeping tonight.”
Yeah, that doesn’t sound paternal at all
. He tried not to imagine activities they could fill the hours with if she wasn’t sleeping.

“I’m not going to be sleeping tonight. I have too much cooking to do.” She glanced around him at some new arrivals as if searching. Her gaze dropped to the coffee cup and her expression clouded.

“I’m sorry you don’t see him when you hear someone come in.” The fist around his heart didn’t relax. He didn’t have to ask. He’d do the same thing if he were somewhere his brothers should have been—had been—and he wouldn’t be seeing them again.

“Thanks.” She didn’t look up from her food, locked in a struggle with her sadness.

Not dwelling on why, he reached over and covered her hand with his. “What can I do to help?”

She didn’t answer immediately, and he worried she wouldn’t. Then she looked up from the table and gripped his hand. “Tell me about being here, the truth of it. What it’s like, what you feel, what you think about…?”

It wouldn’t be pleasant, but he could do that.

“Okay, you eat, and I’ll tell you.” Giving her hand a squeeze, he waited for her to pick up her fork. After she took the first mouthful, he exhaled a long breath. “It’s lonely….”

Listening to Charlie hurt Jana all the way down to her soul, but in a strange way, it also helped. He told her the days were long and sometimes the nights were worse—the darkness increased the sense of isolation, reminded him about what he missed and it didn’t matter when his deployment ended. Guys went home all kinds of ways, body bags included.

She expected melancholy, but the plain acceptance in his voice arrested her sadness and gave it a poignant perspective she couldn’t have imagined when she’d boarded the plane the day before. As much as she wanted to keep talking to him, she needed to check the food and get turkeys started. Morning would arrive soon enough, and they planned to serve the first shift their Thanksgiving meal by ten hundred hours.

Back in the kitchen, Charlie’s words lingered in her mind. Robbie had loved being a Marine, but never shared that side of his life with her. The more she thought about it, the more she realized all of his letters home focused on items she mentioned to him—her school, her projects, her love life—or lack thereof. He always heartily approved of the latter. But he didn’t share his loneliness, his pain, or his fears. When they talked about plans for him, it had always been in the abstract.

At twenty-two hundred hours, the sergeant actually kicked her out of the kitchen. He brought in two Marines who would watch over the cooking food, both of whom apparently volunteered, and as much as she wanted to stay and do her job, she wavered on her feet. So far no one she encountered had known her brother. They knew
of
him, they’d seen him around, but they hadn’t known him well.

Hadn’t he had any friends?

She fumbled with the buckles on her jacket when a pair of hands pushed aside her fingers and took over. Blinking, she stared at Charlie.
When did he get here?

“You’re tired.” No judgment hung on the words, but a tiny frown creased his brow. It was a sexy frown. Not that frowns were typically anything.
Wow, my brain is muddled
.

“A little.” She dragged her teeth across her lower lip, the pinch of pain helping to clear some of the fog from her brain. “I didn’t know you were coming back.”

“I told Hall to call me when you were ready to go, remember?” He secured the jacket flaps around her neck and buckled her helmet on for her. “Come on, let’s get you to your room. When is the latest you absolutely need to report in here?”

“Hmm.” She studied the ovens. The Marines in charge of basting and watching over the slow-roasting meats worked cheerfully enough. All of the breads and desserts were ready. That left veggies, which really wouldn’t take that long, if someone else peeled the potatoes. “Sergeant Hall?”

The man glanced up from the paperwork he filled out. The kitchen was already spotless, the evening crew having scrubbed it down and put away any remnants from the meal. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Would it be too much trouble to have someone peel all the potatoes we have so I can make a couple of pans of roasted to go with the mashed and sweet potatoes?”

His solemn face broke into a smile. “Not at all. Private Miller will take care of all of them for you.”

The other men grinned quickly before their expressions sobered. She almost felt sorry for Miller, but too tired to get him out of whatever earned him the assignment. “Thank you.”

“Our pleasure, and thank you, ma’am, for the meal. We’re all looking forward to it.”

A dim glow of satisfaction warmed her belly and chased away the chill of her darker thoughts. “Honestly, the pleasure is mine.”

“Only if you get some sleep.” Charlie nudged her toward the door. “Ma’am.” A layer of teasing buoyed the last word, as though he tweaked her on the nose.

Trudging after him obediently, she couldn’t quite smother a yawn. “Do you guys add bricks to this jacket every time I take it off?” It definitely seemed heavier than earlier, and the helmet itched. She’d joked once that she could never follow her brother into the military—camo wasn’t her color—but the heck with the fashion of it, it weighed too damn much.

“Could be. We like to protect our valuables.” Despite the light quip, he halted at the door to the outside. “Remember,
stay
right behind me.”

As before, three fully-armed, uniformed men waited right outside and fell in around her. She’d barely gotten a real glimpse of the base since arriving, and it didn’t seem like she would get a look now, particularly the way Charlie hustled her along. The air had turned a lot cooler, almost nippy, and she suppressed a shiver. The setting sun seemed to have stripped away any remaining warmth. Pops echoed through the night, a muffled rumble snapping through the quiet, as regular and disregarded as crickets on a summer night and yet not at the same time at all.

Fortunately, the trip between the mess hall and the building housing her room didn’t take long, but she still stuffed her hands into her pockets. Their escort peeled off after Charlie got her inside, and he led her through the maze to her room. She didn’t try to sightsee. She really wanted the helmet off and the faster they got to their destination, the sooner that could happen.

He opened her door and shuttled her inside, pausing to study her. “Sleep in. I’ll come get you closer to eight.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t get to be here that long and I really want tomorrow’s food to go well.” A few hours of sleep and she would be fine.

If I can sleep
.

Charlie frowned and she thought he wanted to say more, but instead he glanced at her chest. “Do you want some help getting out of that?”

“I’m good. I can apparently unbuckle, it’s buckling I suck at.” She laughed. Poor choice of words on her part.

He nodded but didn’t step out.

Pulling the helmet off and setting it on the bed, she reached back to loosen her braid. Her head ached a little from how tautly she’d weaved it. “Charlie? Do you want to come in for a bit?”

Another frown tightened the line between his eyebrows.

“It’s okay if you want to go get some sleep, but I don’t really want to be on my own yet.” She
didn’t
want to be. Everything seemed surreal there, from her actual presence to the conversation over dinner, to her wardrobe of bulletproof vest and flak jacket. This wasn’t a dorm room—hell, her dorm room was nicer than this little hole in the wall with its sparse, utilitarian furnishings. But she couldn’t get past what he’d said to her at dinner.
It’s lonely
….

Still, he hesitated.

Combing her fingers through her hair, she rubbed at her tender scalp. Maybe the request hadn’t been fair. “Sorry, you do not need to babysit me. Go get some sleep, Captain. I’m a big girl.”

Applauding her ability to handle the potential rejection smoothly, she fled into the bathroom and closed the door. The microscopic closet of a room would probably give a claustrophobe nightmares, but, right then, she needed the box and the alone time it provided and was profoundly grateful for the solitude. She’d asked a man to stay and talk to her—a virtual stranger, even if he was a Marine.