Meagan's Marine (Halos & Horns)

by Lori Leger

  “Get on in there, asshole,” Mitchell growled. “You are holding up my line.”

  ****

  A low whistle cut through the air. “Man, if I knew any Marines that looked that good, I’d still be in the Corps!”

  Meagan recognized the voice before she saw the face. She looked up at the huge man and beamed as she took in his attire. “Thanks…it’s not every day a girl gets a compliment from Trace Adkins!”

  Tex flashed his pearly whites and boyish grin at Meagan before lifting the fake tuft of hair at the back of his hat. “And you got it without seeing the ponytail!”

  “Of course, I did. Cowboy’s Back in Town, accompanied by his little zombie sister!” She reached out to hug the two of them. “You alone tonight?” she asked Haley, exchanging a knowing look with her.

  “Yep. Ben left for seven months.” The edges of her bottom lip curled down in a little pout.

  “So, the two of you are…”

  “We are communicating,” Haley added. “We’ll see where it goes from here.” She clasped her hands together. “He sent me a rose last Monday!”

  “Aw, that is so sweet! And promising.”

  Tex snorted. “One damn flower…big freaking whoop. When I send roses to a lady, I never send less than a dozen. Can I have a longneck Corona, please? And get Haley whatever she wants,” he said, slapping a five on the bar.

  Meagan handed him an icy beer. “Ah…but sometimes a single rose makes an even bigger statement.”

  Haley lifted one hand and let it fall. “I tried to tell him that but he doesn’t understand.”

  “Most guys don’t. If Ben does, that’s one mark for him in the pro column,” she said, drawing an imaginary check in the air.

  “He’s got several in the pro column so far, but who’s counting?” Haley giggled.

  “Oh brother…”

  Meagan laughed as Haley punched Tex in the shoulder and told him to shut up. “I always wanted a brother, but when I see the two of you together…” she paused and turned to face them, “I want one even more. What’ll you have to drink, Haley?”

  “Aw, I’ll share Matty with you, Meagan. God knows there’s enough of him to go around. Give me a Dos Equis, please.”

  “Well, thanks, but he’s Mitchell’s Marine brother, so there could be a conflict of interest.” She handed her a beer and deposited the money in the register.

  Tex grabbed a free barstool and rested his forearms on the surface. “What happened after I left the other night?”

  “He got better, I got sick, he held my head when I puked in the bucket. We fell asleep, I developed chills and a high fever during the night. When I woke up the next day, Mitch was…different. Kind of reserved, you know?” She lifted one shoulder. “He hasn’t called or gone out of his way to talk to me since then.”

  Tex’s brow rose dramatically. “Has he seen you tonight? Dressed like that?”

  “Just long enough to disapprove, apparently.”

  Tex’s deep rumble of laughter rolled in the air. “Yeah! I can see that. Every guy in this place is gonna go home tonight and fantasize about you with a bar of soap.”

  Haley made a face. “Matty! Ew.”

  “Tex! That’s disgusting.”

  “Well, I don’t mean me!” he said, seeming completely unfazed by their snorts of disgust.

  “What’s so disgusting over here?” Niki said, joining their group. “And who the hell is this big guy looking almost yummy enough to be the real Trace Adkins?”

  “Niki! I want you to meet some friends of mine. This is Haley Broussard and her brother, Matthew “Tex” Broussard. Haley and Tex, this is Niki Reeves, my roommate slash soul-sister slash best friend in the whole world.” She lifted one brow, trying her best to convey the silent, though effective, ‘hurt her and you die’ message.

  “Ah, the aforementioned Niki…” Tex took her hand, and then to everyone’s shock, lifted it slowly as he leaned over to place a gentle kiss upon it. He straightened, giving her the most charming, dimpled grin Meagan had ever seen on a man.

  She turned to him, her eyes wide with wonder. “Holy moly, Tex. I had no idea you could turn it on like that.”

  “Well, you know,” he drawled, “it’s Niki’s fault for throwing down the gauntlet, so to speak.”

  Niki pulled her hand back slowly and gulped. “I did…it is? I mean…I didn’t realize I had…not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

  Tex gave her a slow nod. “Yes ma’am you certainly did—as soon as you uttered the words, ‘almost yummy enough to be Trace Adkins’. I don’t like that word almost. With me it’s gotta be all or nothin’.”

  Niki crossed one booted foot over another and hooked her thumbs in the pockets of her shorts. “Is that so?”

  “Yep. So, the way I figure it, I’ve been challenged to turn your almost into definitely, or even way better than.”

  Meagan watched the sparks fly between the mountain of a man and her friend, who seemed to be weighing his words carefully. Finally, the tall, buxom blonde, with short spiked hair and big green eyes, gave him a nod. “Well, hell. Let the games begin, big boy.”

  He flashed another brilliant smile her direction. “By any chance, is Niki short for Nicolette?”

  “It’s short for Nicole…Amanda Nicole…but I prefer Niki.”

  He took a step closer and bent his elbow. “Nicole, could I please have this dance?”

  Niki’s mouth opened, perhaps to protest his use of her real name, but she seemed to think better of it. She snapped it closed, the lifted her chin as she reached out and took his arm. “I’d love to.”

  “Wow…” Meagan shot Haley a look before they both turned to stare after the couple already swinging into a Texas two-step.

  “I know, right?” Haley’s voice purred with admiration. “Did you feel that electricity crackling between those two?”

  “Major vibes…major! Man, do they look good together, or what?” They stood watching the two dance in moves that totally complimented each other.

  “Meagan?”

  “Huh?”

  “I have never seen my brother act like that with a woman. And let me tell you, he’s brought some women to my parents’ home, before. Always girls we knew he couldn’t possibly be serious about. You know the kind, don’t ya? Bleached blonde bimbos with tiny waists and big boobs…usually fake.”

  “Oh yeah, the kind of girls who wear lots of eye makeup, and short shorts with high heels?”

  “Exactly. So, what’s Niki like?”

  “She’s good people and so are her parents. Her mom treats me like her own daughter. Why?”

  “No reason.” She released a long sigh. “I’ve always wanted an older sister.”

  ****

  Several hours later, Red closed and locked the front door, turning around to address his crew of employees. “Good job, gang; a full house and not a bit of trouble. Now, y’all go home and get some sleep. That’s an order.”

  Mitch heard several shouts of thanks from various areas of the large space, but he only searched for a single face. He found Meagan exiting the storeroom with a case of beer.

  “You heard the man,” he said, grabbing the beer from her and placing it on the bar above her cooler. “Go on and get some rest. I’ll fill up the cooler for you.”

  She nudged her way around him. “I like to do it myself. I have a method, and it makes it easier on me for the rest of the night.”

  The feel of her brushing by him in that clingy spandex had him hissing in discomfort.

  She turned to him, surveyed the situation and gave him a cheeky smile. “You gonna live, Mitch?”

  He grunted under his breath. “The jury’s still out.”

  She started filling her cooler methodically, everything in its own designated spot for easy distribution. By the time she’d emptied several cases, he and Meagan were the only remaining people in the club. He’d been forced to pick a spot off to the side, far enough away to keep him from losing his mind. The sight of her, ben
ding over the cooler in that second skin, desert camie suit, had just about done him in.

  She approached, reaching for her backpack. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. We need to talk.”

  She pulled her keys from her pack. “We are, aren’t we?”

  “Seriously.”

  She dropped the backpack on the floor and sighed, whether from exhaustion, or irritation at the suspected subject matter, he couldn’t tell.

  She leaned back against the bar, her elbows resting on the marble surface. “So talk.”

  Mitch stifled the urge to gawk at her breasts, straining against the confines of her spandex suit. He swallowed hard, wishing for some other noise in the silence of the huge building. “We can’t let what almost happened the other night—I can’t let that happen again.”

  “So why are you here?”

  “To tell you.” He braced himself as she pushed herself away from the bar to approach him.

  “Well, hell Marine, you could have called me to tell me that.”

  He looked off to the right. “I didn’t want to call. I felt like I owed you an explanation face to face.”

  “The irony in that statement is that you can’t even look at me.”

  He clenched his jaw to steel himself before he turned his gaze on her, and groaned aloud. At some point, she’d unzipped her suit to somewhere in the area of halfway down. He couldn’t tell how far down, because he couldn’t seem to pull his gaze any further than her breasts spilling out of the top of her push up bra.

  “Look at me, Mitch.”

  “I thought I was.”

  “Not my face.” She reached up to pull his chin upward until their gazes met. “It’s kind of difficult to do that when my entire persona is sending a different message, isn’t it?”

  He swallowed again and managed to nod.

  “You see, that’s what you’ve been doing to me. Avoiding me, yet getting so upset because I wore this tonight. Why? I can tell you like it on me.” She paused to run her hands slowly down the silky material along her sides. “Is it because you wanted me to wear it just for your eyes?” The edges of her lips curled in a seductive smile as she took a step closer. “That can be arranged.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Rejection hurts.”

  “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Ever. I don’t ever want you to be afraid of me.”

  “I won’t be.”

  “Even when I lose control?”

  “You won’t.”

  “Even when I wrap my hands around your neck and squeeze the life out of you?”

  He saw it then…a flash…a millisecond of fear…of remembering those several moments. He reached out slowly for her, turned to the long mirror behind the bar and pulled her in front of him. He wrapped his right arm around her waist, holding her there as he used his left hand to pull her hair back then up, away from her neck. He lowered his mouth, so tempted to taste her, lost in the luscious smell of her, the feel of her in his arms, against his chest and the hardness of his arousal. She was ready for it, her eyes closed, head tilted just so…her pulse throbbing at the base of her neck.

  “Open your eyes, Megs.” He stared ahead, meeting her gaze in the mirror, then used his right hand to trace the still visible bruises on her neck.

  “I can’t let this happen again…ever. Do you understand?”

  She reached up to hold his hand, kissed it tenderly. “You won’t.”

  His heart nearly burst from wanting this woman in his life. His need to protect her prevented him from speaking those words. “I can’t be sure of that, babe. And until I can, I can’t be around you.”

  “Then do what you have to, Mitch, to be sure of that.”

  “I’ll try, but it may be impossible to know for sure.” A barely perceptible movement, a slight rise of her left eyebrow, caught his attention.

  “Marines don’t try, Mitch. They do.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Accusations, Denials, and Restless Nights

  Meagan tried to get comfortable—fluffed her pillow for the fifth time since she’d crawled into bed at 2:30 a.m.

  At 3:30 she gave it up and made herself a cup of chamomile tea. In an unusual turn of events, she had the place to herself. There was no sign of Niki yet, and the LeBlanc’s had insisted that Buck spend the night with them. She sat in the darkened living area, and sipped at her tea, lamenting the waste of such an opportunity.

  The sound of light tapping caught her attention. She stood, goose bumps rising on her flesh as she waited for the sound to return. It did, and she panicked once she realized it was coming from her bedroom. “Oh…Go-d…” she whispered, stammering on the word once she remembered she didn’t believe anymore. “What now?”

  Meagan tiptoed into the dark of her bedroom and waited, holding her breath, until the tapping sounded again. This time she pinpointed it, coming from the southernmost window. Thankful for the black as pitch cover, she tiptoed to the window, hoping to find a squirrel or some other critter illuminated from the street light. She pulled the heavy curtain back, screeching at the sight of a human form hulking just outside the window. An instant later, a small light shined on the culprit’s face.

  “Open the door.” Mitch spoke in a low monotone.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Open the damn door before somebody turns my ass in for either breaking and entering, or a peeping tom.”

  She grabbed her robe on the way to the front door, and turned on a living room lamp. She pulled it open and he entered, looking panicked, as well as thoroughly confused.

  She threw her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. “I’m not sure I understand you, but I’m glad you’re here.”

  “You sent me a text, so I came,” he hissed, hugging her back hard before grabbing her arms and holding her away from him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong, and what are you talking about? I didn’t text you,” she whispered.

  His jaw set angrily, he pulled out his phone and showed her the screen. It showed a text from her.

  SHE NEEDS YOU

  She shook her head. “It wasn’t me.”

  “Is anyone else here?” he asked.

  She shook her head, remembering they didn’t have to whisper. “No. Niki’s not home yet,” she said, her voice at a normal pitch.

  “Good. Where’s your phone?”

  “In my backpack.”

  “Get it.”

  “Are you calling me a liar?” She didn’t much like the tone of his voice.

  “Please, just…” He raised one hand for emphasis. “Get the damn phone.”

  She released a huff of pure indignation as she looked around for the pack. It wasn’t in the living room, or the bedroom. She checked the kitchen and the back bedrooms, even knowing she wouldn’t have brought it in either of those rooms.

  “Where’d you put it?”

  She turned on him, angry and fed up with his attitude. “I don’t know! I didn’t call you dammit.”

  “It must be here somewhere.”

  She looked in a few more places then threw up her hands. “Call the damn thing.”

  He did, smirking at her. “How convenient that you couldn’t find it.”

  “Shut up and listen for the ring tone, jerk!”

  They stood stock-still and quiet. Nothing.

  “What are we listening for?” he asked.

  She glared at him. “Uh…a ringtone?”

  “No shit? I meant is it an old fashioned ring, or a specific ring, or do you have a song programmed in?”

  She turned away from him as though listening, but more to conceal her face from him. How could she have forgotten the song…his personal ringtone song? She closed her eyes and sucked in her breath, praying wherever it was, her battery was good and dead. In that instant, she pictured her backpack as she’d last handled it…car keys in one hand, bag in the other.

  “I di
dn’t bring it in. It must still be in my car.”

  He walked to the kitchen door and opened it. “Let’s go get it.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you I didn’t call you?”

  “None, if you show me the fucking phone!”

  “You watch your mouth in my home.”

  He hissed through his teeth. “I’m sorry! But, after everything that’s gone on in this house, do you doubt how it made me feel to get your message?”

  “It wasn’t my message!”

  “Prove it!”

  She grabbed her keys from the counter and stormed to the door, mumbling about Jarheads being more trouble than they’re worth. She checked the front and back seats, and found nothing. Mitch checked under the seats and even in the trunk, even though she insisted she hadn’t opened the trunk since getting the new spare tire. She cringed a little less as he called her number again, this time absolutely certain he wouldn’t hear it.

  “I left it at the club.”

  “But you had your car keys,” he argued.

  “I removed my keys just after you handed me the backpack, remember? But I dropped the damn thing on the floor when—when I—when you rejected me. And that’s where it is…in the club.”

  “Seriously?” He looked doubtful.

  She ran her hands through her hair and tried to keep her tone from sounding hysterical. “You’re trained to notice details. Did you see me walk out of the club with it?”

  “No—I didn’t.”

  “Well, there you go. And now that you’ve called me a liar to my face several times, I’d really like you to leave.”

  “Why were you so glad to see me when I got here?”

  “Because I didn’t know you were such a jerk, then.” She pointed to the Chevy truck he’d parked in her drive. “Go. Now.”

  ****

  Mitch was halfway back to his place before a thought came to him. He pulled his truck into the next turn lane and headed northeast of his current location. Within ten minutes, he was at the back door of the club and using his keys, the only other set besides the ones belonging to Red, to unlock it and let himself inside.