Once a Marine (Those Marshall Boys)

by Loree Lough

  “Why didn’t you move back to the Double M when you got home from Afghanistan?”

  “Thought about it,” he said. “Used to believe I’d build a house, right there.” He pointed north. “I could raise a few cows, some kids, a dog or two. But then Libby got hurt.”

  Now Summer better understood what he’d said about being a rescuer.

  “Zach! Are you out there, son?” his mom called from the party barn.

  “Over here.” He waved an arm over his head.

  “We’re about to spin the prize wheel, and Trish wants you to announce the winners.”

  “It’s your own fault,” Trish added, “for having that sexy DJ voice!”

  On the heels of a heavy sigh, he shoved off the fence and pushed the Stetson lower on his forehead. “You coming inside with me?”

  “Maybe. In a few minutes. I want to say good-night to Taffy.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Zach wasn’t even halfway to the barn, and already she missed him. Maybe she needed therapy after all because she’d never felt more conflicted in her life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ALEX TURNED THE page on the Marshall Law wall calendar from November to December.

  “Well, looks like I’m not getting my license until after New Year’s. Between exams and chores and work, there just isn’t time for driving lessons.”

  Without looking up from the checkbook, Zach said, “School comes first. Always has, always will.” He put the ledgers away and met Alex’s eyes. “If you need some time off, we’ll work it out.”

  “I’m okay waiting until after the first of the year. Between you and me? Mom is driving me nuts with all her ‘have you done this’ and ‘why didn’t you that.’ I don’t want time off. I come here to hide.” He shrugged into his jacket. “You’re sure you don’t wanna marry her? Give her someone to focus on besides me?”

  Zach laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure.” Rose had a lot going for her, and she was nice enough. But they didn’t have a thing in common. Except Alex.

  “Poor Mom.”

  He hoped Alex wouldn’t say, “She likes you, boss.”

  “She’ll never get over my dad,” he said instead. “But even if she could, I bet she’d never measure up to Summer in your book.”

  Zach put down his pen and looked up from the calculator. “What’s Summer got to do with anything?”

  “You like her. Heck. You might even love her. Not that I blame you. I kinda had a thing for her when she first moved in. Then Lexie, this girl at school, asked me to tutor her during lunch period, and, well…” Alex shook his head. “Sheesh. I sound like my mom, going on and on and never getting to the point.” He started over. “What it has to do with Summer is, I’ve seen the way you look at her. Like the other night, when she almost fell and you caught her? Whoa. I thought for sure you were gonna plant one on her. And from what I could see? She would’ve let you.”

  Alex was smarter than most kids his age, but he didn’t even have a driver’s license yet. What did he know about reading people?

  Then Zach swallowed, remembering the night at the Double M. The kissing booth. The dance floor. The quiet talk at the corral. That night and a dozen other times, he’d come this close to—as Alex put it—planting one on her. He hadn’t held back because he wanted to, but because he couldn’t risk that she’d associate anything he did with what that maniac had done to her.

  Hypocrite. You didn’t have any trouble planting one on her at the kissing booth.

  “So what does your drivers’ ed teacher say about you passing the test next time?”

  “What does he say?” Alex echoed. “You mean out loud, or under his breath?”

  “Don’t let stuff like that get under your skin. I had a college professor who said a student is only as good as his teacher.”

  “Then maybe somebody needs to teach Mr. Somers how to teach me how to parallel park.”

  “Tell you what. After your exams, we’ll go over to the church parking lot. I’ll set up some barriers, and you can practice.”

  “Really? You’d do that?”

  “’Course I would.”

  “Cool! And it’s all the way on the other side of town. Nobody from school will see me smashing trash cans or mowing down lawn chairs.”

  “Have a little faith in yourself, kiddo.” Zach used his pen as a pointer. “It’s starting to snow. You want me to drive you home?”

  Alex looked outside. “Nah. It’s just around the corner. Besides, you’re writing paychecks.” Smirking, he pulled on his stocking cap. “I wouldn’t want to distract you.”

  The studio phone rang. “Marshall Law,” Zach answered.

  “See ya,” Alex called.

  Zach waved and said into the phone, “What’s up, Dave?”

  “First, Adam finally got a hit on that case you were asking about.”

  “Good thing I didn’t hold my breath. What’s it been, eight, ten months?”

  “Ha-ha. Always the comedian. It’s only been two, give or take a week.”

  The time lapse wasn’t as important as hearing what Noah’s DA brother found out about Summer’s attacker.

  “Adam said to remind you this is strictly confidential.”

  “Got it.”

  “That if this gets out, he’ll deny any and all involvement.”

  “You have my word.”

  “So the guy’s name is Michael Samuels. Age 28. Born in Boulder, moved to Denver. They picked him up on a DDC, and—”

  “DDC?”

  “Drunk and disorderly conduct. He had your lady friend’s wallet, plus a couple of others on him. Report says your girlfriend couldn’t make a positive ID. And because the kid was wearing gloves and a ski mask, he didn’t leave any DNA. She picked him out of a lineup, but only because she recognized his voice. And you can figure out what the public defender did with that.” He groaned. “Anyway, with no DNA and no ID, he got two years on a Class 5 Felony Theft charge. Cleaned up his act in the Denver jail, and from everything Adam found, he hasn’t stepped outta line since.”

  “Two years. For kidnapping, assault and battery and rape? That’s ridiculous!”

  “I hear ya, pal, but it’s called the Justice System, not the Let’s Be Fair System.”

  Zach stared at what he’d scribbled on the checkbook register: Michael Samuels. Class 5 Felony. Two years.

  “So the other reason I called…”

  He closed the checkbook because reading the pervert’s name made him want to punch something, hard.

  “While I was on my way back to the station yesterday, I saw this dog, and it seemed so miserable that I stopped to look for tags. But nothin’. So I took it to this vet I know and paid to have it checked out. No microchip, but no diseases, either. I can’t keep him ’cause the wife’s allergic, and so’s my son. It’s at Adam’s for now, but his wife is about to have twins in, like, ten minutes, so it can’t stay there. So I was wondering if maybe that kid who works for you might want it? It’s free. Clean bill of health. Cute li’l fella—calm, quiet, good disposition, housebroken, even.”

  “Sounds too good to be true.”

  “Hey. Have I ever steered you wrong?”

  No, he hadn’t. But the Petersons couldn’t take the dog. How often had Rose said she was allergic to life? Too many times to count.

  Summer…

  If she had a dog to protect and care for, to keep her company, it could bring her the rest of the way toward emotional healing. Zach ran a hand through his hair. Watch it, dude, he thought, you’re starting to sound like Libby.

  “I might know somebody.”

  “Excellent! When can you come for it? It’s miserable over there. I can meet you halfway between here and Vail.”

  “Wait. Why’s the dog miserable?”

  “That clean freak sister-in-law of mine insists on keeping it in a crate. Whoever owned him before must not have used one, ’cause the poor mutt hates it. The whimpering is heartbreaking, I tell you. The sooner you can come get him,
the sooner he gets outta that cage.”

  They worked out the drop-off details.

  Now Zach just had to work out how to get the dog to Summer’s house…

  *

  “YES, OF COURSE it’s exciting, but it’s frustrating, too,” Summer’s dad said. “I always feel sorry for anybody who hasn’t done this before.”

  “Oh, honey, your dad is so right!”

  The only time Summer used her webcam was when her parents called from their latest movie set.

  “First-timers think as soon as they get word they’ve been booked,” Susannah finished, “someone will call to tell them when and where to show up for work.”

  Harrison sighed. “I remember when I was a first-timer. I waited weeks for the call.”

  “And Chris was all ‘I told you what your booking window was,’ like we were complete amateurs!”

  “We were complete amateurs!” They laughed then leaned into one another, as if Summer wasn’t even there. Her parents rambled for a few minutes more, and then Susannah brought her face closer to the camera. “But we didn’t call to talk about that! How are you, honey?”

  “Still getting out—”

  “To shop for yourself?”

  “And taking the self-defense classes?”

  “Speaking of which,” Susannah cut in. “How’s that nice man, Zach?”

  Summer didn’t know which question to answer first. “Everything and everyone is fine.”

  She told them about Libby’s invitation to help out with the fund-raiser. Horseback riding and pizza night, and saved the kissing booth for last.

  Harrison and Susannah exchanged a wide-eyed, disbelieving glance.

  “A kissing booth?” her dad echoed.

  “Libby and I brought in $428 for the organization. Firefly Autism.”

  Hands folded under her chin, Susannah tilted her head. “Oh, honey, that’s…that’s just wonderful! And amazing!” She looked at her husband. “Can you believe it, Harry? A kissing booth!”

  Her dad pressed a palm to his chest. “I’m proud of you, sweetheart.”

  Summer had to admit, she was proud of herself, too.

  Susannah giggled. “Did that handsome instructor of yours get in line?”

  She felt a flush coming on and hoped the webcam wouldn’t pick it up.

  “He didn’t have much choice,” Summer said. “His mom was the hostess, and they held the hoedown in the Marshalls’ party barn. And he couldn’t very well stand in his sister’s line!”

  Her mom’s you-can’t-fool-me grin told Summer the camera was more sensitive than she’d thought.

  “Look at her blushing, Harry. I think maybe our girl is in love!”

  Nodding, Harrison checked his watch. “Well, our lunch break is over, and we have to be on set in five.”

  “I’m glad you called. Do it again, real soon, okay? I miss you guys!”

  After shutting down the camera and closing her laptop, Summer did some chores. With no one leaving dessert bowls, balled-up socks and ketchup packets everywhere, it didn’t take long. So she baked brownies for Alex and Rose, put a single-serving pot pie in the oven and started a grocery list.

  It was so quiet. She couldn’t get Zach’s kiss out of her mind. Couldn’t block thoughts of the way he’d held her as they danced.

  She turned on the stereo, hoping the music or the lyrics of a song—any song—would give her something else to think about. It had been months since she’d used it. Evidently, during one of her cleaning frenzies, her mom had unintentionally moved the dial. Summer rolled it right, then left, nodding when the hissing stopped and a song came in, loud and clear.

  What were the chances it would be that song? Eyes closed, she swayed in time to the music, smiling at the memory of his deep voice, singing softly off-key in her ear.

  Then she came to her senses and changed the station. On the way to class the other night, she’d stopped at Traveler Books and bought a mystery novel. If the gritty story about a troubled sheriff out West didn’t get her mind off Zach, what would?

  Summer made herself a mug of hot chocolate, put on her boots and coat and tucked a digital timer into her jacket pocket. That pot pie would taste even better when she came in from the cold, she thought, grabbing a fleecy throw from the sofa as she stepped onto the deck.

  Whoever invented fingerless gloves should get an award, she thought, turning to the first page in the book. She looked out over her view of Vail’s mountaintops. It was a sight to behold, but couldn’t compare with the awe-inspiring vistas on the Double M. She closed her eyes and inhaled the crisp, heavy scent of falling snow, and used her thumb to mark her place in the novel. “Raindrops on roses,” she sang softly.

  “No wonder you didn’t hear the doorbell.”

  Startled, Summer scrambled to get out of the blanket and onto her feet, and in the process, overturned the flimsy aluminum lounge chair.

  “Sheesh. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Zach held out a hand to help her up, and while grabbing it, her elbow bumped the cake plate he was holding, and it landed facedown on the snow-covered deck.

  “Sorry about that, too,” he said, pointing at the cherry-topped mess. “Rose said it’s your favorite dessert, and sent me to deliver it.”

  “That was sweet of her,” Summer said, looking at it. “But it’s probably just as well.”

  He chuckled. “She isn’t exactly Paula Deen, is she?”

  Summer thought of the Christmas sugar cookies that not even birds or wandering cats would eat because Rose had doubled the baking soda and halved the sugar. And then the time she’d mistaken Italian seasoning for parsley flakes, and used it to season her baked beans.

  “Well, her heart is always in the right place,” Summer said. “Let me grab something to clean that up.”

  She hurried inside and took the whole roll of paper towels back outside with her. She tore off a couple of sheets, and so did Zach.

  When they bent to scoop up the cake, their foreheads collided, knocking them off-balance. And yet again, they found themselves a twist of arms and legs, with Zach above and Summer below…at the perfect kissing distance.

  “We really have to stop meeting this way,” he said.

  Their laughter started slow and quiet then grew in volume and intensity. Zach rolled onto his back, and they lay side by side, blotting tears of mirth from their eyes.

  “Wait,” Summer said between giggles. “What’s that noise?”

  Zach lifted his head. “Sounds like a dog to me.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  THEY SAT UP at the same time and met the sad, steady gaze of the knee-high, shaggy-haired, brown-eyed mutt.

  “Look at that sweet face!”

  Zach chuckled. “He’s probably thinking we played a nasty trick on him, luring him up here for that.” Again, he pointed at the cheesecake.

  Summer patted her thigh. “C’mere, cutie, so I can see if you have tags.”

  Ears perked, it moved forward, and when the dog reached her, Summer hugged him close.

  “Oh, Zach! It’s soaking wet. And shivering!”

  Yeah, and he felt a little guilty about that, but it had only been a few minutes since he let the pup out of his truck. Besides, how else was he supposed to get the two of them together?

  He watched as Summer wrapped her blanket around the dog, stroking the soft fur between his eyes and cooing reassuring words into his ears.

  Zach could have kicked himself for saying he. Thankfully, Summer hadn’t noticed, or if she had, she chose to overlook it. Because no one was that observant, that soon.

  “We need to get him out of the snow and wind,” she said, standing.

  She opened the French doors that led into the family room and stepped inside. And much to Zach’s relief, the dog followed. Instantly, it sat on the mat just inside the entry and held up its right paw.

  “Aw, aren’t you a considerate fellow!” Summer got down on one knee and used a paper towel to wipe the offered paw. When she fini
shed, he held up his left paw.

  “I wonder if a nice bath would warm him up?”

  Without waiting for a reply, she turned off the oven and headed up the stairs. The dog followed her, and Zach followed the dog. Once they were all in the bathroom, she closed the door and pulled the stopper in the tub. And while it filled with warm water, she sat on the padded hamper and tugged off her boots and socks.

  “There are towels in that cabinet behind you,” she said, tossing her jacket onto the floor. “Will you grab a couple for me?”

  He didn’t understand why she needed bare feet to wash a dog, but did as she asked, without question. When he turned to face her again, Zach saw that she’d rolled her khakis all the way up to her knees, exposing three raised red scars that started at her shin and disappeared under the cuff.

  She spread the offered towel on the floor beside the tub then climbed in and turned off the water. “C’mon, buddy,” she said, clapping. “The water’s great!”

  Zach prepared to pick up the dog and give it a little assist, but it leaped into the water before he got the chance.

  Summer lathered its multicolored fur, and seemed oblivious to how wet and soapy she got in the process. When she began a thorough massage, Zach grinned. Lucky dog, he thought.

  “I suppose once he’s good and dry, we should probably take him to a vet, see if his owners microchipped him.” She kissed the top of his head. “I know if you were mine, I’d be worried sick, wondering where you are!”

  During the drive between Dave’s and home, Zach had called an old college pal who’d settled in Vail and worked at the Vail Valley Animal Hospital. One quick phone call and Casey would meet them at the Edwards Clinic on Village Boulevard. To secure Casey’s cooperation, Zach wrote a generous check to help care for abandoned or neglected cats and dogs like this one.

  “College pal of mine is a vet,” he said, stepping into the hall. “I’ll give him a call.”

  When he returned, Zach aimed his cell phone at the now-fluffy pup and snapped its picture. “I’ll send that to Alex,” he said, “and ask him to make up some lost dog flyers.”