21 Marine Salute: 21 Always a Marine Tales (59 page)

“That’s—amazing.” The word didn’t do her story justice. “You’re changing their worlds.”

“No.” Mary shook her head slowly. “They are. We just plow the row. They take the seeds and make it grow.” She smiled down at the picture on the smartphone and his heart squeezed.

Yeah, he was toast.

“You did not.” Mary snorted.

They’d talked for hours, listened to some beautiful bluesy horns and a jazz trio before paying the tab and driving down to the beach. Home a week and she hadn’t even made it down to the blue waters.

“I did.” Kyle laughed and skimmed another rock across the water. “School email was still in its infancy, but they used it to keep score in their sex game. So I sent it to all their dates, figured it was the least I could do.”

The wind turned chilly off the Pacific, but she didn’t care. They’d left their shoes at the car and walked along the water’s edge. The sand retained a hint of the day’s earlier heat, and the ocean rolling in offered a beautiful accompaniment to their stroll.

She laughed. “I would have paid money to see their reactions.” Had she been on their score list? The thought sobered her. “Hey, was I…?”

“A gentleman would never tell.” He nudged her around a seaweed covered board, leftover debris the ocean carried home. “Of course, I’m not much of a gentleman, but yeah, you were on there with really sweet odds against anyone ever getting the points.”

“I dunno whether to be flattered or offended.” She touched his elbow and pulled him closer when the chill water raced up toward his feet. He bumped her and linked their arms.

“Be flattered. It would have netted the winner some ridiculous number of points because the odds were a thousand to one anyone would even make it to second base with you.”

Amusement drifted through her. “What a bunch of idiots.”

“Yup. Course, I think they should have given points to the guy with the balls to ask you out.” The water pushed in farther. They danced out of reach and she let out a squeal of laughter as it froze her toes.

“God, I forgot how cold this gets sometimes. Beaches are supposed to be sunny and warm.”

He gave her a dry look. “You grew up here, right?”

“Yes. Course, I’ve been living just south of hell so the Caribbean is probably cold to me at the moment.” A song drifted down on the breeze and she canted her head up. “Oh, I love Pink.”

“Are you sure that’s Pink?” Kyle guided them toward the hillside overlooking the beach as though to get a better earful. “Sounds like Lady Gaga.”

“No, I know Lady Gaga. Roxy listens to her nonstop. That’s Pink.” She started moving to the beat. Kyle shot her another skeptical frown, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

He held out his free hand and she took it and then he spun her out and tugged her back and they were dancing. They danced a half-waltz, half-so-very-not, and she held onto his shoulders as he guided her through the steps. The music faded in and out, louder at times and softer at others.

“Probably a party up there and people are going in and out the doors.”

He twirled her again and she let herself float on the imaginary music. She knew the song well enough to fill in the gaps.

“Probably.” She rested a hand on his shoulder as he drew her close again. He was solid muscle beneath the crisp shirt. It made her double glad he’d shed the jacket along with his shoes before they walked down. Petting the fabric, she studied him. “So why didn’t you ever ask me out in school?”

“Because I was the geek and you were the beauty queen.” He spun her around, and the lightness in his words didn’t make the sentiment any easier.

“So? You were a fun guy.” She would have gone out with him—maybe. Frankly, she hadn’t dated all that much. Most of her free time got sucked up in practicing for pageants and training her skills for talent contests when not on parade for her mother’s friends. “I think I would have liked a date with you.”

“Well, that makes two of us.” Kyle waggled his brows. “So you want to be my date to prom?”

She snorted. “I didn’t go to prom.”

“I noticed.” Something in his voice wiped away her amusement.

“Yeah?”

“Yep. I worked up the courage and told myself I’d ask you to dance—just one. But I waited all night and you never showed. I figured your date skipped the dance and you two just got a room.” The crestfallen note softened with apology. “And I should probably say sorry for that thought. I found out later you didn’t go.”

“Nope. We had to be in Sacramento for the preliminary Miss California run.” Leaning back on his arm, she stared up at the sky. She could make out a few stars. He dipped and spun her again. The lack of music didn’t stop their dance.

“Want to know a secret?” His voice lowered.

Straightening, she wrapped an arm around his shoulder. She should have taken Jazz’s advice and worn the lipstick. She wanted him to want to kiss her. “Yes.”

“I watched that pageant on television. You looked great.” No self-deprecating snark marred the compliment.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He leaned closer and they were dancing, chest to breast, hips brushing. His mouth hovered so close. “So….”

“Yes?”

“About prom…” The warmth of his breath teased her cheek. His smile faded and his expression grew somber. “Reunion is day after tomorrow. Be my date?”

The reunion was the last thing on her mind. She had zero desire to catch up with all the jocks, cheerleaders, nerds, or stoners and everyone in between. But she did want to spend time with Kyle. “On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“I want a corsage and a limo ride.”

His brows rose and he laughed. “I think that can be arranged.”

“Then in that case, Kyle, I would love to be your date for ‘prom.’” She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly, the barest touch of her lips to his. A tease for him and a promise for her.

She so planned on wearing lipstick for their date.

A bemused expression fell over his face, and she pulled slowly out of his arms but twined her fingers with his. “That does leave us with one quandary.” She started walking.

“What’s that?”

“What are we going to do tomorrow night?”

Sadly, they didn’t do anything the next night. Mary’s mother ambushed her with a dinner party. She should have expected it, but calling to let Kyle know she couldn’t make it disappointed her more than she cared to admit. She sucked it up and made herself pretty and played the part of gracious hostess under her mother’s stern eye. After boot camp, her mother shouldn’t be able to intimidate her—on the other hand her drill sergeant could have taken lessons from Mrs. Phillips on how to freeze someone in place with a simple stare.

By the time their dozen guests ate, drank wine, made small talk and finally left, all Mary wanted was to strip down to her PJs and pass out. The tedium actually made her miss Afghanistan. She crawled into bed before she saw the text message from Kyle.

How was the party
?

Fluffing a pillow, she picked up the remote, turned on the television and texted back.
Boring as hell. How was your evening
?

Finished reading the Steve Jobs biography and checked out the fashion channel. Thought I should brush up to be your man candy
.

She laughed, exhaustion evaporating.
So what tips do you have for me
?
High skirt or low
?
Shoulders bare
?
What’s the new black
?

Scrolling through the channels, she waited for his response. Her movie options were sad, sadder, and
please kill me now
. She scanned the regular stations.
Space Marines
it was. Nudging the volume up, she waited for the commercial to end to see how far into the movie they were.

Wearing clothes in public is a good plan. I like a little thigh, so high skirt. Bare shoulders work for me. And why does there need to be a new black
?

Another snicker escaped.
So, mini dress with cleavage, and basic black
. Biting her lip, she hesitated a moment before finishing the thought.
Where will I wear the gun
?

Yes, giving into Freud. Is it a big gun
?

She had to stuff the heel of her hand into her mouth to stifle the guffaw rumbling through her.
Big enough
.

Her phone buzzed. She hit answer and laughed her greeting. “Good evening.”

“So, big enough…. Does that mean big enough for a sexy thigh holster tucked into a garter or ‘make my day,’ bigger?”

“Big enough like a Glock nine. But I’m thinking I don’t need to carry for a dance. I mean, unless you’re planning something.” She snuggled down into the covers and tucked an arm behind her head. Marines blowing away bugs on the screen and Kyle on the phone. Life was good.

“I am totally planning something. You should probably ask your mom if it’s okay to stay out all night. I promise, we’ll be good.” The man definitely knew how to flirt. Her body hummed from the lighthearted teasing.

“You know, I discovered a long time ago that with my mother, it’s better to ask forgiveness than seek permission. So what are you planning?”

“That would be telling.” He sighed. “And I think I want to use a little shock and awe.”

“Are you trying to sweet talk me, military style, Brainy Smurf?” Her lips pursed with the effort to hold back the laughter.

“I dunno, Smurfette. Is it working?”

“I’ll make you a deal. I won’t bring up Smurfs again if—”

“Sold.” He laughed, a warm, low masculine note. “Hey, do you have a sexy nickname? Marines always have some call sign in the movies.”

Grimacing, she chewed her lip. “Stormer.”

“Oh, like the superhero?”

She stretched under the covers, tension winding through her. “No, that’s Storm. I’m Stormer—as in storming the castle.”

The bare sound of his breathing filled the silence. “Not seeing the connection there.”

Yeah, he wanted her to tell the story. “During training exercises post-boot, we broke into six-person units trapped behind enemy lines with heavy fire. Our goal was survival and return to our division. My team took the flag before we went back.” She chuckled. “I stormed the castle and drew fire so that my unit could come in from all sides—”

“You took point? Isn’t that the most dangerous spot?”

“A, it was a training exercise and B, my idea, my unit, made it my lead. She who gives the orders leads the charge. It worked. We took the flag and prisoners and made our way back to base.” But the nickname stuck. It suited her direct attitude. When he said nothing, she frowned. “Kyle?”

“I’m still here. Just trying to wrap my mind around what you do. Part of me hates the idea of you in any kind of danger.”

Well, if that didn’t dampen the ardor, she didn’t know what would. “And the other part of you?”

“Is blown the hell away by the idea of talking to such an amazing woman—Marine—and maybe just the slightest bit intimidated.”

The overwrought feeling relaxed. “Thank you, but I’m not that special. I need you to understand—this is who I am, and what we’re doing right now….it’s fun and I am enjoying the hell out of you and the flirting, but I’m not going to change.” Moment of truth time. Some men couldn’t handle the idea of a woman comfortable in full combat gear. She liked him in high school and he’d been a great guy then, but what kind of man was he now?

“I wouldn’t dream of asking you to change. Frankly, it makes you even sexier than you already were.” He waited a beat. “On the other hand, how do you feel about jotting down a few names to kick their asses for me?”

Her smile grew. “I got your back.”

“See, I feel safer already.”

She yawned and snuggled deeper against the pillows. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

“I’m counting down the hours.” They talked for a few more moments and rang off. Mary glanced at the TV screen but didn’t see the gore or the flying body parts. Her mind drifted over Kyle’s words.
It makes you even sexier than you already were
.

Yeah, she definitely had his back.

“You’re acting like you’re in high school again.” His mother leaned against the door to the kitchen, a cup of coffee cradled in her hands. “The tie looks fine, just the way it is.”

Kyle smoothed down the navy tie. It was boring, hardly as much fun as the character-driven ties housed in his closet, but he thought sedate seemed the better way to go on this date. “You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I put the orchid in the refrigerator so it didn’t wilt while you fussed with your clothes. So who is she?”

In her mid-fifties, Florence Stewart stood a full half foot shorter than her son, not that it prevented her from reining him in when he got obsessed. Which, considering his line of work, was more often than not.

“Maybe it’s a he.” He grinned slowly. Somewhere around his sophomore year in college, his mother broached the subject of his sexuality because married to his work and studies, he didn’t date. It had been embarrassing for both of them, but worth a few laughs now.

“Uh huh. Who is she?” She padded forward on her bare feet. Her toes were painted eggshell pink to match the little hearts on her kitchen window curtains. He’d moved her into a nice neighborhood, paid off her house and she still made her own curtains, painted her own nails and treated herself to a cup of standard coffee. Just because a body had money didn’t mean she had to spend it. Someday he’d figure out what frivolous thing she really wanted and spoil her.

“Mom, I came by to fix the sink because you asked me to, and I brought the suit so I could change—”

“And the corsage, and I heard you discussing when the limousine would pick you up so you could pick her up on time.” She patted his chest.

“That’s eavesdropping you know.”

Her eyebrows raised. “If you wanted privacy, then you shouldn’t have taken the call in the middle of my kitchen.”

She had a point. He slipped his hands into his pockets. “Her name is Mary. We went to high school together, and we’re going to the reunion tonight at The Grand.”