One Week with the Marine (Love on Location)

by Allison Gatta

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Allison Gatta The Archer Family

  Made to be His

  Bound to be His

  Sworn to be His

  Honeybrook Love, Inc

  Bargaining with the Bride

  Bargaining with the Boss

  Bargaining with the Billionaire

  Napoline Royals

  Seduced by the Stranger

  Coming 2017: Persuading her Protector

  Coming 2017: Convincing his Consort

  Hearts Wild

  Ride

  Coming 2017: Grind

  Coming 2017: Crush

  Kindle Worlds

  Love Me if You Dare

  Going Crazy for You

  Standalone

  A Match Made in Honeybrook

  More steamy Brazen releases… Bonding Games

  Chance Seduction

  Rogue

  Emergency Attraction

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 by Allison Gatta. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 109

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

  Brazen is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC. For more information on our titles, visit www.brazenbooks.com.

  Edited by Brenda Chin

  Cover design by Liz Pelletier

  Cover art from iStock

  ISBN 978-1-64063-145-8

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition July 2017

  For Ryan, the love of my life.

  Chapter One

  Oh, to be a fly on the wall.

  Not so Avery could listen or anything, but more so she’d be able to fly away and not have to hear Myla’s latest diatribe.

  It was usually impossible to ignore her friend’s uptight ramblings, but this particular soliloquy was one she’d been audience to nearly a million times already. Myla had droned on and on before junior prom, senior prom, graduation, before they’d moved to California together—the list could go forever—but the speech was always the same, and she consistently ended it with the same question:

  “So, what exactly is going on with you and Holden?” Myla tried to look nonchalant, tossing some anti-nausea medication into their shared grocery cart, but a telltale worry line wrinkled her forehead, and her lashes flicked the way they always did when she was watching someone from the corner of her eye.

  Avery sighed and ripped the box of medication open before popping a couple of pills in her mouth. If Myla was going to spend their whole shopping trip nagging her, anti-nausea meds were probably just the ticket. Either that, or it was time to employ the fine art of distraction.

  “How many times? Seriously.” Avery grabbed for the industrial-sized box of condoms and then hoisted a second box into her cart.

  “We wouldn’t be having this discussion if you weren’t buying enough condoms to make an entire circus of balloon animals.” Myla surveyed the box warily.

  “Well, Holden will be here for a whole week. You know sailors. Any port in a storm.”

  “And yet, magically, your port is always the one he seems to find. So, it begs the question, why?”

  That was the thing about Myla. She acted like every friggin’ relationship would end in some big affair with boom boxes lifted outside people’s windows. Even if Myla thought she had a fairy-tale romance, that didn’t mean it was right for everyone.

  Some people just wanted good, hot sex. What was so wrong with that?

  Besides, even that initial Cinderella/Prince Charming love would fade like everything else. It was a waiting game, and it was only out of love for her best friend that she didn’t remind her of that fact. It had been that way for Avery’s parents. And it would be that way for Myla, too.

  Shaking off the sadness that always filled her whenever she considered the inevitable, Avery focused on the one thing that kept her spirits buoyant—Holden. No limits and no expectations Holden.

  “Avery, I’m serious. What’s the deal between you two?” Myla busted through the silence of her thoughts.

  “I’m his special friend.” She tried to control herself, but a smirk tugged at her lips before she could rein it in.

  “Except he’s flying all the way to California to see you while he’s between tours. And he shows up whenever you need him. And he calls you all the time.”

  “Well, the calls aren’t exactly outpourings of affection. Lots of times, he just checks in around midnight to see how things are going in Brazil, if you know what I mean.” She waggled her eyebrows, trying to throw her friend off her game.

  Based on the stern line of her lips, though, Myla would not be deterred. “Ugh, God.” She shuddered. “I don’t need to know.”

  “You asked.” Avery shrugged. If Myla was going to keep pressing her, she was going to make sure her friend was as uncomfortable as possible. Simple as that.

  Anything to find peace.

  “Actually, I didn’t ask. All I’m saying is that things might not be as cut and dried as you’re making them out to be. Geez, it’s like you’ve never seen a romantic comedy.” She rolled her eyes.

  “I’ve known him forever. That’s hardly new.” Avery made her best attempt at sounding innocent, but Myla’s glare was so much like Avery’s mom’s, it was like going back in time to her teen years in their beat-up trailer park. The only thing missing was the perpetual smell of stale menthol cigarettes.

  “Don’t you want to be with someone for real?”

  “Nope.” And she didn’t.

  No putting someone else’s socks in the laundry. No straightening ties. No three a.m. talks about feelings. If she was up during the wee hours, it was going to be because she was still out partying, not because she was cooing soft reassurances to someone about their boss not appreciating their contribution, or similar nonsense.

  Or, in Holden’s case, because she was still up worrying whether or not he’d ever come home again.

  No. Caring about someone else that intensely was not in the cards. Her mother had done that, and look where that had landed her.

  Perfectly nowhere.

  She sailed down the snack food aisle, tossing bag after bag of junk into her cart. With Holden visiting for a whole week, they were both going to need sustenance. Myla followed behind her, so she zigzagged, trying to cut her off or force her to crash into the cart. Anything to get her to shut up.

  “I think you’re full of it.” Myla started up again, but as Avery had hoped, her friend careened into the cart, and before she could right the eggs that had tipped over
, Avery was off and running.

  “Almost forgot the whipped cream,” she shouted over her shoulder.

  Even with the distance between them, she could hear Myla’s disgusted sigh.

  Whatever. Her nerdy friend had never really understood the art of playing the field. The one time she tried to have a one-night stand, she’d ended up living with the guy. Typical friggin’ Myla.

  Avery grabbed a canister of cream from the aisle and sprinted back to where she’d left her friend. The other woman was standing mid-aisle, leaning lazily against a rack of potato chips.

  “Hey, before I forget, Oliver wanted me to invite you and Holden to dinner on Wednesday. At our house.” Myla’s lips curled around the word “our,” her eyes glazing into a dreamy, sickening look. The pure joy in her expression only made Avery’s heart sink that much deeper in her stomach. Myla was clearly beyond taken with her boyfriend, which would only make the inevitable heartbreak that much worse.

  But no matter how Avery felt, it did not mean she was joining the dinner-party circuit. “Oh, well, uh…”

  “Avery. Please.”

  She hedged.

  It wasn’t that Myla and Oliver were obnoxious together. They were a little gooey, sure, but seeing her friend’s happiness made it bearable. Still, being around them was unnerving. And no matter how deliriously happy Myla was, there was something about Oliver that never seemed quite right.

  Bring Holden there? It would be that much less time to spend alone with him in varying states of undress.

  But Myla was pleading with her. She might have gotten on Avery’s nerves from time to time, but there was never a place in her heart that wanted to turn her friend down. As many times as she’d been by Myla’s side for one heartbreak or the other, she’d been by Avery’s through family hardship and everything in between.

  Myla deserved a good friend, and Avery was determined to be that person. “Fine. I’ll be there.”

  Myla beamed, and despite everything, Avery grinned back. It would be fine. Just so long as Myla didn’t launch into her classic speech with Holden, as well.

  “It’s going to be great! Oliver is a wonderful cook.”

  “I’m glad. Last time I was at your house for dinner, you set boiling water on fire, so I’m already starting with pretty low expectations.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t that bad.” Even Myla’s matter-of-fact tone was less than convincing.

  “I distinctly remember foraging in your shrubbery for sustenance. I nearly ambushed a passing pizza delivery guy.” Avery popped open a container of off-brand chips. The memory of that night alone was enough to make her stomach growl with desperation.

  “You did ambush him.”

  “Either way, I got the job done. And don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that calzone, too.”

  The pair shuffled into the checkout line while Myla toyed with the groceries in Avery’s cart.

  Myla ran her fingers over the cover of a glossy soap opera magazine, pausing for a fraction of a second over the image of her actor-boyfriend, Oliver. The ghost of a smile captured her friend’s lips, but obviously, her thoughts were elsewhere. “So, how does Holden feel about this setup?”

  Jesus, the woman was like a freaking conversational zombie. Right when everyone thought the topic was dead, she sprang back up and droned on again. Brainlessly.

  “He’s happy. I think.” Avery crunched on a chip, savoring the cheesy, cardboard-like goodness. How was she supposed to know what Holden thought? Asking him would open up a discussion she’d skillfully avoided for five years.

  “You think?” Myla’s brows flew upward.

  “We don’t talk about stuff like that. If he wasn’t happy, he’d bail. We have an open-ended agreement.”

  Myla hummed her disapproval, giving Avery the distinct impression that she was mere minutes from landing herself in “time out.” “So, you wouldn’t care at all if he called the whole thing quits? It wouldn’t change your friendship at all?”

  A knot twisted in her stomach, but she shook her head, ignoring the weird sensation. Truthfully, the idea of either of them actually bailing had never occurred to her. Their agreement had been going on for so long, it seemed a natural part of their lives. What else was there to understand?

  All she knew was that when they were together, it was pretty damn explosive. Anything other than that wasn’t worth her time or concern.

  Rather than dignifying the question with a response, she launched into her own tried-and-true speech. “We are friends who happen to sleep with each other. We’re pretty good at being friends, and he’s pretty great at the other stuff, so I’m settled.”

  Even though she knew she didn’t have to defend herself, her mouth ran on, trying to make Myla understand something she was determined not to hear. “The only person who has a problem with this is you.”

  “I don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all.”

  “Believe me, the only way I’m getting hurt is if I politely ask for it.” Let Myla have the serious, sock-darning, meet-your-parents relationship with a capitol R. Avery would do what she wanted—with Holden.

  “Being friends with benefits doesn’t work. Since he’s the only guy who’s been able to hold your attention for longer than a day, maybe you should really think about trying something new. You know, I started seeing a therapist—”

  Avery made a choking sound, and Myla patted her on the back, hard.

  “Say what you want, but I did, and I think it’s great. You know, I went because of this whole thing with Oliver and the media attention—”

  “Right.” Avery grabbed a soda bottle from an endcap cooler and started guzzling it.

  “It’s been hard on me being in the magazines and everything, but this doctor has really helped me focus on what’s important.”

  “Which is?” Avery raised her eyebrows.

  “Mindfulness. You know, really being aware of your feelings and why you’re feeling them.” Myla shrugged. “It’s wonderful.”

  “And how do you go about being mindful?”

  “I color sometimes,” Myla chirped.

  “You color?” Avery choked.

  “Don’t laugh. They say it stimulates the same parts of the brain as meditation.”

  Avery held up her hands in mock innocence. “Okay, okay, not judging. I believe you.”

  “And the coloring is just for meditation. The really helpful thing I do is keep a journal. You let your mind go blank and just write down whatever comes. Easy as that.”

  “I’m happy you found something that works, then,” Avery said.

  “But it could work for you, too. Come on, we could make it fun. Like, if we’re both doing it, it’s almost like a club.”

  “Or a cult,” Avery added.

  Myla rolled her eyes. “Would it really hurt you to give it a try? If you just do this with me while Holden is here, then I promise I will never ever bother you about what your relationship status is with him again.”

  “Do you mean that?” Avery asked, and when Myla gave her a serious nod, she reached for a sparkly pink mini journal and matching pen, then threw them on top of her purchases. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  Tedious conversation whittled away the rest of their trip, mostly around Myla’s concerns about Oliver’s late nights on the set of his soap opera, ER Dynasty. The more her friend talked, the more her uneasiness grew. This was always how it started with Myla. She met someone, and then the next week, she was wedding planning.

  Next, she’d be on websites looking at mash-ups of what her future children would look like or scribbling her future name over and over like a schoolgirl. It would have been positively charming to watch if Avery hadn’t seen the final score so many times before.

  Sooner or later, they all left, and it was just the two of them again. Like it had been all through her childhood with her mother: nursing a perpetually broken heart.

  Forgive Avery if she wanted to skip that part of the human experience.

  She drop
ped Myla off and rushed home to get ready to meet Holden at the airport. Every nerve in her body stood on end to see him again. And she had a greeting in mind that he was sure to never, ever forget.

  Chapter Two

  In-flight internet had been a bad idea.

  All Holden had wanted to do was check his email, see if there were any updates from his commanding officers, and glance—just glance—at Facebook. He should have known that wouldn’t be possible, though. Not when he had nosy brothers he hadn’t had enough common sense to block.

  The second he signed on, his eldest brother shot him a message:

  Tom Morris: Flight land?

  It was innocent enough. That, too, should have been a clue, Holden thought, but instead he foolishly replied:

  Holden Morris: Not yet. This airline has internet. Just checking my stuff.

  Tom Morris: Nice. Mom says she’s worried about you. And that God never meant for humans to travel by air.

  Holden Morris: Because if he did, he would have given them wings. Right, I know.

  His mother had been saying the same thing for years now, though she conveniently never seemed to mention it in front of his other brother, Max, who was a fighter pilot. Or, for that matter, any time one of her sons was about to fly halfway across the world to fight in a war. Nor did the wars themselves seem to bother her all that much.

  It was only, in fact, when Holden was on his way to see Avery that her sudden aversion to flight reared its ugly head. That little tidbit, he was sure, wasn’t lost on anyone in the family—least of all Holden.

  Holden Morris: Tell her I’ll be fine. I’ve been in tighter situations than sitting leisurely on a plane while hurtling through the air.

  Tom Morris: Lol, will do. Speaking of which, Dad mentioned you were thinking about another tour.

  Holden clenched his jaw.

  Holden Morris: No doubt he was practically drooling about the idea.

  Tom Morris: You know him.

  Holden Morris: Hoo-rah.

  Tom Morris: Exactly. But I know both of you, and I have to say—don’t you think you ought to wait a little while? Your tours have been short so far, and that’s been great. But what if you get stuck over there for a long stretch?

  Holden Morris: So what? I don’t have a wife or kids. It’s the perfect time to work on my career. Another tour comes with another promotion. Better pay. I have a plan.