A Soldier For Christmas

by KB Winters

  “Sophia?” Jenna’s eyebrows were knit together. “Are you—”

  I hopped up from the stool at the desk and raced from the room, barely getting into the hallway before the dam burst and the rest of the tears charged down my face.

  Chapter Two - Derrick

  As a staff sergeant with the United States Army, with three tours of duty under my belt, and a prominent position on the counter-intelligence unit, I’d say I was prepared for most anything that came at me, but even I was caught off guard when a brunette missile flew right into me, sending us both off-kilter.

  The air left my lungs at the impact, but I managed to correct my course in time to catch the woman who’d rammed into me before we hit the floor.

  “Oh my gosh!” The woman’s eyes flew to mine as she leaped out of my arms, realizing her mistake. Her dark, doe-shaped eyes were wide with alarm. “I am so, so sorry!”

  I steadied my hands on her shoulders, making sure she was stable, as I looked her over. “Are you okay?”

  She was a stunner—with long, glossy hair that was so dark brown I would have mistaken it for black if the light weren’t hitting it just right. My eyes dipped a little lower, past the delicate, heart-shaped face, and a smirk spread across my face as my gaze snagged on the pattern on her sweater.

  She followed my eyes and her cheeks turned red. I grinned. Sorry that I’d embarrassed her. “You running late to help Santa and the reindeer with a delivery, or something?” I asked, barely suppressing a laugh.

  The woman frowned as she tugged at the oversized sweater and grumbled under her breath, “Yeah, something like that.” She took a step to the side. “Sorry for running into you. I wasn’t paying attention.”

  When she glanced up the second time, I noticed the glossy sheen over her eyes and the tracks in the makeup on her cheeks. Had she been crying? Was that why she didn’t see me? I looked in the direction from which she’d come and spotted a woman in a grey pantsuit coming from the rooms that were reserved for the performers that were staying at the base while putting on a Christmas show for the neighboring military units.

  I recognized her a split second later. “Sophia Rossi?” I asked, staring back into her downcast face.

  She tilted her face up and tried to force a smile. “Yeah.” Her eyes darted down the hall and she saw the woman headed our way. She didn’t bother to hide a small groan. “Do you know where I can go to get some fresh air or a cup of coffee?” she asked, looking back at me.

  “Sure thing.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and started steering her down the hall before the woman in the suit could catch up to us. I buried my curiosity and didn’t ask what was wrong, and Sophia didn’t offer up an explanation—but she kept pace with my quick steps.

  When we rounded another corner, stepping into a hallway that led to the mess hall and sleeping quarters, I led her toward a lounge area where a few chairs were arranged around a large, circular coffee table. Underneath the arrangement was a thick, hand woven rug, and my boots scuffed along the edge as I ushered Sophia into one of the chairs. “Sugar? Cream?” I asked her, kicking the edge of the carpet back in place before someone tripped on it.

  Sophia glanced up, her gaze empty. “Um, black is fine.”

  My kinda girl. Strong and straight up. “All right. Be right back.”

  I wandered off, looking back once, before hitting up the nearby coffee station, aka a filing cabinet with a Keurig perched on top. I stuck a pod into the machine, pushed the button, and waited until the rich liquid filled the insulated cup. When the final sputters stopped, I grabbed the cup, capped it, and crossed back to sit in the chair beside hers. She accepted the coffee and took a tentative sip before setting it on the table in front of us. “Thanks,” she said, her voice stronger. “Jetlag is catching up to me, I think. Sorry for crashing into you back there.”

  “No worries,” I replied, shooting her an easy smile. “Jetlag’s a real bitch. Where are you coming from?”

  She hesitated for a beat and glanced me over, as though she was startled I was still sitting there with her. Her eyes caught on my name patch on my chest before moving on to the others, marking my rank, unit, and MOS. “New York. I live in Manhattan.”

  My eyebrows went up. “Sounds exciting.”

  She gave a little laugh. “I guess so…”

  “I’ve never been.” Sophia’s eyes drifted to the cup of coffee and I wondered if she was wishing I’d leave her alone. Which got me wondering if I should be leaving…but there was something keeping my ass glued to the chair beside her. “You’re here for the Christmas concert, right?”

  It was a lame attempt at conversation. Too obvious. I knew it, and from the crooked smile that formed on her lips, she thought so too.

  But she humored me. Nodding, she said, “That’s right. I’m the headliner.”

  Damn, she was gorgeous, especially when that smile played over her full lips. That was the reason I wasn’t getting up and wandering off. Wasn’t it? Or was it the evidence of tears I’d seen glimmering in those beautiful eyes when we first collided?

  “Well, I’m Staff Sergeant Derrick Lawley, and on behalf of me and my unit, thank you for coming on over to visit with all of us. I know it’s been the buzz around here for the past few weeks. You’ve got a lot of fans here, waiting for the show.”

  She leaned back in her seat and shifted a mischievous look my way. “What about you? Are you a fan?”

  I chuckled at her bold question. “I know this is the part where I should tell you my favorite song or tell you about going to one of your shows when I was stateside, but to be honest, I haven’t really had a chance. The pleasure.”

  She laughed. “Aha. Then how was it you knew who I was on first sight?”

  I rubbed my hand over the back of my neck. Busted. “That you can thank my sister for. She’s a big fan.”

  Sophia smiled, her eyes no longer showing the traces of tears. Instead, a glimmer of amusement reflected back at me. “I see.”

  “I’m afraid I’ve only been exposed to her renditions of your songs, and she’s not the type to sing background. No, she’s more of a belt over the volume of the song playing on the radio. You never really had a chance to compete.” I pulled a face and Sophia giggled. “What she lacks in talent, she makes up for with sheer bravado.”

  “I think I’d like your sister,” Sophia replied, still smiling up at me through thick, dark lashes.

  I chuckled. “Sadly, you’re stuck with me.”

  Her eyes raked across my chest again and this time I straightened in my seat, studying the look on her face as she took me in. I wished I was one of those guys ready with a suave line or whispered invitation. I was a man with a plan in every other area of my life, but with women—especially beautiful women like Sophia—I tended to flounder and stumble over myself.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Derrick. Thanks for the coffee.” She paused and looked around. “I probably should get back though, before Jenna sends out a search and rescue party to find me and drag me back.”

  I glanced around, waiting for the woman in the pantsuit to appear at any moment. “What are you supposed to be doing?”

  Sophia frowned before answering, “Shooting an interview. The network that’s broadcasting the Christmas concert needs footage for the promotion slots that will play leading up to the show premiere.”

  “Oh. That sounds cool.”

  The look on her face suggested otherwise. She raked her fingers through her hair and shook it back over her shoulders. The simple move was impossibly sexy and got me wondering what it would look like fanned out around her head on the crisp white sheets in my bed back home in Georgia. The contrast of her dark hair against the bright linen and the way her skin would glow under the soft light of a full, Southern moon…

  She sighed, snapping my mind out of my not-so-gentlemanly thoughts. “I’m just wiped out. It’s been a long few days…weeks, really.” Her expression changed again, the smile falling away from her lips, and the over
cast look returned to her eyes.

  “Well, if you’re looking for a way to kill some more time, you can come with me. I was on my way to grab a bite.”

  She glanced up and after a moment, she nodded. “As long as the food here is better than the dog food on the flight.”

  I laughed and stood from my chair, reaching for her hand as I pivoted around. “I’m not making any promises. But the cooks have stepped up their game with the holidays around the corner. It’s not like a scene out of M*A*S*H or anything.”

  Sophia took my hand, her touch featherlight against my palm as I helped her up from her seat. The soft touch broke all too soon, only serving to remind me just how long it had been since the last time I’d held a woman’s hand. Mostly a symptom of spending the last sixteen out of eighteen months overseas. Currently, I’d only been in country for three months, but wedged in between this deployment and my last had only been a seven-week break. Barely long enough to see all my family and friends. Sure, I’d hooked up a few times, but never had time to get to that stage of a relationship where holding hands felt natural.

  As I led the way to the mess hall, Sophia kept pace with me, her long legs easily matching my long strides. She was a good four inches shorter than me, but still tall—probably five-ten to my six-two. And every inch of her was soft and curvy. Even with that ridiculous sweater on it was easy to see she was working a killer figure.

  “All right, so explain the sweater,” I said, my voice light and conversational as we walked the halls.

  Sophia laughed and looked down at herself, as though she’d forgotten what she was wearing. “Trust me…not my idea. Just for the promo.”

  “Aha. Well that’s reassuring. I thought maybe your luggage got lost and you had to go searching through the lost and found at the airport for something to wear.”

  She laughed louder and I realized it was a true, belly-deep laugh. I grinned over at her. “I hope I never get that desperate for a wardrobe change,” she said, starting to unbutton the front. My breath caught in my throat as she shrugged out of the comical garment and revealed what I’d already known—Sophia was all woman, in all the best ways. In place of the sweater, she wore a tight-ass black tank top that was cut low—very low. With a generous amount of cleavage. And a silver necklace with a key on it that hung between her big beautiful breasts.

  Suddenly, all eyes were on her, as we walked around a corner. Every hot-blooded male within proximity—and hell, some of the females too—all went wide-eyed at her. Sophia didn’t seem to notice. She looked up at me, completely oblivious to everyone around her, and asked, “Where are you from?”

  “Uh—Georgia—” I spat out, managing to sweep my eyes from her distracting curves the moment before her eyes met mine. “Fort Benning.”

  She nodded and glanced over my patches again. “And what do you do?”

  “Counter-intelligence. I’m here training the newly formed local forces the tricks of the trade.”

  “Wow! That sounds…dangerous.”

  I shrugged, smiling down at her. “I’m still here.”

  “How many years have you served?”

  “Let’s see…going into my tenth year of service. I shipped off to boot camp three weeks after I turned eighteen.”

  We took a turn and a large open room spanned out before us. The kitchens were on the other side of a long wall that had been painted with a mural. The room was filled with circular tables and fold up chairs. Most soldiers were on rotation and not in the mess hall so we had our pick of a table. I set a hand on Sophia’s lower back and guided her to a table a few yards into the room, mostly to get a chance to hold her closer for a moment longer and breathe in the subtle rose perfume still clinging to her through the dust and stale airplane air she’d likely been swamped in the past two days.

  When she was seated, I slid in beside her and handed her a laminated sheet that spelled out the different choices for meals. “I’m going for the Salisbury. What about you?”

  She scanned the menu quickly before declaring, “Spaghetti.”

  “That was fast.”

  She laughed. “I’m Italian. Can’t turn down a good pasta dish.”

  “Fair enough.” I pushed up from the table. “I’ll be right back then. Anything to drink?”

  “Iced tea?”

  “Sure.”

  I wandered off, halfway fearing that a pack of guys that had caught sight of her in the hallway would swoop in and steal her attention while I was off ordering our meals.

  Sure enough, when I returned a handful of minutes later, three guys were seated around her at the table, taking up all but two of the chairs. I groaned a little but plastered on a smile as I neared. I slipped the iced tea in front of her and then fished a packet of sweetener from my pocket. “Hey guys, off shift already?” I eyed the three men and took my original seat beside Sophia, tempted to sling an arm over the back of her chair.

  Wallace, Percy, and Hopper—none of them should be in the mess hall.

  “We were just saying hello to Sophia,” Jackson Wallace, a beefy knucklehead of a Sergeant said, grinning at me like the cat that ate the canary.

  The other two stooges nodded in agreement.

  Sophia glanced over at me and smiled. “Thanks for the drink.”

  “You’re we—”

  “If you want something a little harder, you let me know. I got the good stuff stashed in my CHU.”

  Sophia frowned a little but quickly recovered, offering Jackson a friendly smile. “I’ll keep that in mind. But, um, for now…” she glanced at me, “Mr. Lawley and I need to finish our meeting.”

  “Meeting?” Dan Hopper repeated, all three men raising their brows.

  I tried to keep a poker face and play along. Sophia glanced at me, her eyes widening, looking for a lifeline. I placed my hands on the table. “That’s right. We were talking about the interview segment the producers want me to do. Sophia’s giving me some tips.”

  All three of them scoffed. Wallace looked particularly annoyed. “How’d you swing that, Lawley?”

  “Yeah, whose ass did you have to kiss?” Hopper added.

  Sophia suppressed a smile and looked to me for the answer.

  “I didn’t have to kiss any ass. I just have a more camera-worthy face that you three mutts.”

  “Whatever, Lawley,” Hopper replied, shoving up from his chair.

  The two others followed suite and they all slunk back out into the hallway.

  Sophia laughed softly at their exit and glanced up at me through those thick lashes. “Friends of yours?”

  I chuckled. “Something like that.” I grinned over at Sophia. “Guess you wanted me all to yourself, huh?”

  She laughed again, this time adding a slight roll to those beautiful eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself too much. I just spent thirty-six hours traveling with Blake “can’t-keep-his-hands-to-himself” Powell. I wasn’t in the mood for more bad pickup lines or innuendos.”

  “Damn, guess I’m gonna have to put a pin in all my lines, huh?”

  Sophia’s eyes sparkled. “Please try.”

  I leaned in slightly and smiled at her. “I’ll do my best.”

  Chapter Three - Sophia

  Despite Derrick’s promise to keep his pick-up lines to himself, I was hook-line-and-sinker for his quiet charm anyways. He was the perfect gentleman, serving me my dinner, making sure my glass of iced tea was always full, and cracking enough jokes to keep my mind off the box of memories that had poured out back in my room, under the light of the production crew camera.

  “How did you get into the music business?” he asked, lounging back as though pacing himself as he worked through the meal before him.

  I set down my fork and wiped at the corners of my mouth. “Believe it or not, I won a series of talent shows my freshman year. It was kinda before the whole YouTube explosion. So, schools in our state held talent competitions and it escalated up until the state level. At the championship, there were a few scouts in the audience, look
ing for the next big thing, I guess. Anyways, after the show, my parents got a call from an agent who wanted to represent me. And that was kind of it…”

  “Wow. A one in a million shot, I guess?”

  “Pretty much.” I smiled down at my plate and picked at the edges of the bread bathing in a pool of marinara. “Kismet. That’s what my mom calls it.”

  “I like that. Kismet.”

  I glanced up at Derrick, getting momentarily lost in his dark eyes and the lines around his mouth when he smiled. He embodied tall, dark, and handsome—which, for better or worse, was my type. And his desert camo fatigues weren’t hurting my feelings either…

  “What about you? What made you join the Army?”

  His eyes went a shade darker. “I was in the ninth grade when 9/11 happened. Up until then, I wanted to be a photographer. You know, the kind who go to all these amazing places for National Geographic or those travel magazines?” I nodded and he continued, “That all changed after that horrific day. It lit a fire inside of me to do my part to keep something like that from happening ever again. I mean, I was only thirteen or fourteen, so when I was old enough, I talked to a recruiter and the summer after my senior year, I went to Fort Benning for boot camp and never really left.”

  “So, that’s why counter-intelligence?”

  Derrick nodded. “And eventually, when my time in the Army is done, I’d like to work for the CIA. Counter-intelligence is a direct path to a career in Langley.”

  “Wow. You’ve got it all mapped out.” I smiled.

  “Guess so.”

  “I’m the same way with my career. I started young and knew what I wanted to do, so I get super focused on my next step. A lot of my friends I went to school with are just getting started in their careers or still in school, trying to figure it all out. Sometimes it makes me feel like an old woman. I’ve already been in my field for years.”