Make Mine a Marine

by Candace Havens

  “You’re unbelievable,” he said.

  And then she came, her body tensing and shaking.

  “I need to make love to you, babe. Now.”

  She guided him into her heat. She was so ready for him. He nearly lost control right there. Had to bite down on his tongue to stop it. Then she put her hands on his biceps and began rocking back and forth again.

  Matt met her hurried pace, needing to find his release just as much.

  “Again,” she said as her muscles tightened around his cock. So responsive.

  He gave in to her, pulling her to him so he could taste her honeyed lips. He thrust hard, bringing her with him as he slid over the edge.

  And he was over, as in head over heels.

  She wasn’t the only one who was scared.

  * * *

  THE WAY HE touched her. The way he looked at her.

  Chelly knew.

  This Marine, well, he was everything. Kind. A good man with a huge heart.

  It would be easy to stay in his bed for as long as he would have her. But that was why this could only be temporary.

  Because this one was going to hurt worse than all the others combined when it ended. And it would end.

  She’d made a promise to sleep in his bed and she would—tonight. But she would need an exit strategy, one that might keep her heart intact if that was even possible.

  She curled into his side; his arm was tight around her, almost as if he still expected her to run. Couldn’t blame him. She had been running back to her bed every night. A coward, afraid to get too comfortable. She hadn’t lied about that. She listened to him breathing. He was asleep.

  Something he didn’t do much of, she’d noticed. Maybe it was a Marine thing, but he only slept four or five hours a night. And he always seemed to have so much energy. He ate well and took pretty good care of himself. He worked out with weights several times a week, and he went for runs every other day. He said they also did training on the base.

  She wasn’t much for running, but she had managed to swim daily. It was relaxing. And truthfully, every time she left his bed she swam until she was so tired she fell into an exhausted sleep.

  “You okay?” he said, snuggling closer.

  “How did you know I was awake? You were sleeping.”

  “Relaxed, not sleeping. And I’m a Marine—always aware of my surroundings.”

  “You never talk about it, being a Marine.”

  “Not a lot to tell.”

  “Don’t believe you,” she said. “I noticed the scar from the bullet hole in your back. And that long, jagged scar on your hip.”

  “Not much I can tell you. The bullet hole was a sniper in Baghdad. Through and through. I turned just in time, or it would have gone through the heart.”

  What? “You could have died.” She put her hand over his heart. It was horrible to think he might not be here right now.

  “Happened first week of my first tour. I was pretty sure I was the worst Marine ever recruited, nearly getting killed my first week.” He laughed.

  “How can you laugh? Matt, that’s awful. You could have died.”

  “But I didn’t. The week after I was sent home, half my platoon was killed by a suicide bomber. That sniper did me a favor.”

  The sadness in his voice pulled at her heart. He felt guilty because he was alive. That was obvious. “Wow. You’re so brave. I don’t think I could have gone in the first place, but after being shot, you went back.”

  “Four more times. It’s what we do. I had my job, which was flying those Apaches and making sure the maintenance crews were trained. I’d fly anywhere to save one of my brothers or sisters.”

  “What happened with your hip? That’s a pretty long gash.”

  “My last tour, we landed in the middle of a firefight. We were trying to get the injured out. One of the med techs went down trying to assist someone else. I had him on my shoulder when I was attacked from out of nowhere with a machete. I turned to protect the guy on my shoulder and the machete came across me. I actually thought he’d done more damage.”

  “Matt! You’re lucky to be alive. What happened?”

  “Well, my hands were busy so I did the only thing I could. I kicked the hell out of him. Got my guy on the transport and got out of there ASAP.”

  “You flew a helicopter with a wound like that?”

  “There wasn’t anyone else to do it, and I had to get the injured out of there.”

  “Yeah, but you were injured, too.” She sat up and put her hands on either side of his face. A tear slid down her cheek.

  “Love,” he said and thumbed the tear away. “I was the only one who could get us out of there. It was my job. I lost a lot of blood by the time we made it back to base, but the doc was able to sew me up fast, and I was moving a few hours after surgery.”

  “Back into the war?”

  “No. Not quite that fast. Though if they’d cleared me to fly... We were in Africa, I can’t say where, but it was a bad scene. We lost a lot of Marines. And no one here will ever know what happened. And don’t cry. It was years ago. On a couple of my tours nothing happened. I’m one of the lucky ones. I made it home alive.”

  “Still.” She sniffed. “I feel like such a brat whining about how tough things have been for me the past year, and you’ve nearly been killed twice and you lost your parents.”

  “Hey.” He grabbed her wrists. “Your life is just as important as mine. And our experiences are different, but yours are no less significant. I just wish you’d tell me more about your past. Why it is you feel you have to run all the time?”

  She pursed her lips. “Is this one of those quid pro quo things?”

  He let go of her wrists and brushed the hair from her cheek. “Only if you want to talk.”

  “Unlike yours, my experiences are just about making some really bad choices. You know about the jerk I was dating last year.”

  “The one who was following you on your phone?”

  “Yes. Before the stalker stuff happened, I gave him money. He said it would be a loan but I was so stupid to believe him. But my story just sounds like loserville compared to what you’ve gone through. That’s why—”

  How did she make him understand?

  “You’re being so careful.”

  She sighed. He did get her, probably better than anyone ever had. Kind of in the same way she understood him.

  “Yes.”

  “So before you landed in Nashville you were traveling the world. How long?”

  “Since...” She blew out a breath. Oh. Crap. That. She never thought about that. Ever. She didn’t want to.

  “You don’t have to tell me. It’s okay.”

  She took a deep breath. “No, it’s fine. It’s just that I never talk about it. My life was really different before my junior year of college. I wasn’t so—I’d never been Miss Straight and Narrow, but my life was on track. And then...” Emotion clogged her throat.

  He scooted up so he was sitting and then drew her into his lap. “You don’t have to tell me.” He stroked her hair.

  But she did. She needed to tell someone.

  “My brother was two years older than me. He overdosed. He and his friends were on a skiing trip, and things got out of control.”

  She took another breath. “He was the golden child. The perfect one. The standard to which all other children—meaning me—were held. My parents—they took it hard. They wanted me to take his place or something. It was almost as if they were punishing me because he wasn’t there. After the funeral, I couldn’t take it. So I took the money I had and I went to Paris, which happens to be even more expensive than New York. But I found a hole to live in with four other design students. I worked three jobs and did internships with different design studios.


  “And after that, it was easier to stay on the move than go home and face what was going on there. Mom ended up... She took a few too many pills. Dad flew me home to talk to her, but she was angry with me. Blamed me for basically everything. Said she’d wished I’d been the one who died.”

  “Babe.” Matt squeezed her tight. “She didn’t mean it.”

  “No. She did. She’s not a bad person, but my brother was always her favorite. She made no bones about that the whole time we were growing up. Dad was better. I wasn’t really a daddy’s girl, but he did speak up for me more than once. But then, once Mom said that, he thought it might be best for me to go. That she needed time.”

  The tears fell now. She missed her mom and dad in spite of everything. She didn’t care that they weren’t exactly the world’s greatest parents; they were her family. “That was four years ago. They’ve reached out a couple of times, but I just... Maybe it makes me a bad person, but I don’t need to be around parents who don’t really want me. Not good for the soul, you know? It’s taken a lot of reflection, but I think I’m better off not being in that environment. I’m never going to be the perfect daughter they want me to be, and I can’t handle their disappointment.”

  “That’s rough, Chel. I’m sorry. I was lucky in the parents department, but when they died... I get it. For you, it’s like you lost all of that, but they’re still alive. Has to be even worse. My dad was a hard-ass, but I never doubted his love. And he was proud of me. After I came home that first time, he tried to talk me into staying home. Mom was behind most of that. I’m an only child, so... But they understood. I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through.”

  “That’s why I sort of run from being comfortable. It’s just easier to keep going, you know? I thought Nashville was going to be my home. That I might put roots down there, but...that didn’t go so well.”

  “We’re not all bad guys,” he said.

  “Yep. I know. You’re one of the good ones, but I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s not right. I get it, but it’s how I’m wired.”

  “So we start slow, like we said. Tonight you sleep in my arms. And tomorrow, well, we figure it out when it gets here.”

  “You’re awesome. Now and forever.”

  He kissed her and she wiggled, trying to tease him.

  “Keep doing that and you’re going to get a whole lot of awesome.”

  “Promises, promises.”

  He flipped her onto her back. “That’s the second time you’ve said that. I’m about to show you that I always keep my promises.”

  There was a smile on his face, but a new intensity in his eyes.

  “Show me,” she said.

  And he did.

  14

  CHELLY’S PHONE WAS ringing way too loud. Matt had left for work two hours earlier. Since their talk, circumstances had done a one-eighty, and now she couldn’t sleep if she wasn’t next to him. She tried not to think about the implications of that. She picked up the phone. It was Mari. “What’s up?”

  “You. I need you up and at my office in an hour,” Mari said. “I need your help with something. Bring your portfolio and the sketches and anything that shows what you can do. And look professional. But funky, you know.”

  “Wait. What?”

  “One hour. Do not be late.” Then she hung up.

  So much for sleeping in. Did I just dream that?

  Her phone buzzed again.

  Hurry.

  It was a text from Mari. Evidently it wasn’t a dream. As she ran through the house she could hear the workmen. The main house was really coming along fast. Cal was a miracle worker, and his team so efficient. From the stories she’d heard it wasn’t normally this easy with renos, not that they hadn’t run into problems, but Cal handled everything so professionally she never had to worry.

  After a quick shower in the pool house she dug through her clothes. What was professional but funky? And it was hotter than hot outside. She grabbed a cute black mini, a frilly white gauzy top with beading that was light and cool.

  Shoes. She was about to put on the strappy heels she’d worn to dinner the other night with Brody and Mari. They’d done a couples thing. It was fun. So much fun. And weird.

  She was a couple. She and Matt. Yes, definitely weird.

  After digging in the back of the closet, she found her black cowboy boots. They were her lucky boots. Exactly what she needed for this meeting, whatever it was about.

  She gathered up her iPad, her sketchbook and put everything in the leather portfolio Matt had bought her. A considerate gesture, although she had a feeling the portfolio had more to do with the fact that she was always leaving her sketches all over the place. He thought it might help if she had a place to put them. And keep things tidy. She smiled at the image of Matt that burned through her brain.

  When she finally hopped into her truck, it was ten minutes to the hour.

  Crap. Crap. Crap.

  At least the meeting wasn’t too far away. When she pulled up in front of the quaint little house where Mari’s design firm was, it was only three minutes past the hour. Abbott was waiting for her on the porch.

  “Okay, so as of right now you’re an associate of the design firm. We have a very important client visiting. When you see said person, you’re going to freak out a little because she’s famous. But you have to act like you meet people like that every day. She wants a recording studio designed, and if you do a good job on that, well, you might get to do her mansion.”

  Abbott was talking so fast, Chelly could barely keep up.

  “Why can’t Mari do it? Or you?”

  “Mari’s sick and can’t make the meeting. And I’m already stretched thin covering a bunch of clients. And this really isn’t my sort of thing. Mari’s the closer. I tend to scare people away. But you’re charming and funny, just the sort folks like to deal with. I just need you to go in there and impress the heck out of her. Okay? She’s very picky. And there’s a ninety-nine percent chance she’s going to go with someone else, but Mari’s freaked out so we have to at least try.”

  “What’s wrong with Mari?”

  “Flu,” Abbott said. “Can’t get out of bed right now.”

  “In late June?”

  “Please, just go in there and be your darling self. Show her some sketches. Answer her questions. Easy peasy, right?”

  It didn’t make sense why Abbott couldn’t do it; she was Mari’s partner. But they’d both been really kind to her, so she wouldn’t let them down. Or at least she’d try not to.

  Abbott shoved her through the front door, through reception and into Mari’s office. A woman stood as Chelly entered. “Oh, hi,” the woman said.

  “Hey.” Chelly gave her a little wave. That was Carrie McIntire. She blinked several times. Only one of the most successful country recording artists ever. She was in her late twenties, but she was already a legend in Nashville.

  “Sorry I was running a little late,” Chelly said.

  “It’s okay. I just got here.” She had a bit of a twang. “Mari says you’ve got tons of talent. Did she explain what I wanted?”

  “Yes, a recording studio.”

  “That’s where I want to start. I know you haven’t had time to pull anything together since I called her this morning. I had a show in Dallas last night. We were gonna fly home this morning, but I saw the layout of Mari’s house in a magazine spread. And I was like, I got to talk to this girl. But then she said she had the flu, and since I was already here, she said she’d send one of her best.”

  No pressure or anything.

  “Well, thanks for coming in,” Chelly said. This was all feeling a bit surreal. This woman’s songs had helped her get through her last breakup. Probably wasn’t professional to say that.

  “You’re welcome,” Carrie
said. At least she was polite.

  “Listen, Carrie, I’m going to be honest, I have no idea what I grabbed off my desk for this,” Chelly admitted.

  “It’s okay. Abbott showed me some of their other designs. But they said you kind of have that Nashville flair. I can’t find a designer I like there. They all go a little too shabby-chic or too cookie-cutter, you know?”

  “Well, a lot of what I do is more repurposing things.”

  “I like that,” said Carrie. “Like making old stuff look new. It’s good for the environment. I just don’t like everything white and frilly.”

  “Ah. Okay then.” She pulled out some of the sketches she’d done. “This one is a local plantation house I’m redoing. It’s not really the kind of style you’re going for, but it fits the house.”

  “I love this kitchen. I’d do these cabinets in a grayish-blue, though.”

  Chelly laughed. “I would, too, but the owner is selling the house. So I had to keep things kind of neutral.”

  “Got it,” Carrie said. “That makes sense.”

  “Once we’re done, I’ll add some pops of color with accessories so it feels a bit more homey. They’re finishing up the floors today, so we’re not quite there yet.”

  She pulled out pictures of Matt’s river house. “This is another project that’s in the works. It’s more casual.”

  “Oh, this is it,” Carrie said. “Natural and rustic, but fresh. Yes. Yes. I love this. Show me everything.”

  Chelly did.

  The singer was very honest about what she liked and what she didn’t.

  When they’d finished with the sketches, she showed her some of the photos of the furniture she’d redone. “No way...that TV cabinet used to be that dresser? Wow. Girl, you’ve got skill.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So, I have my studio attached to the house. It’s rough right now. It was actually the original log cabin on the property. We need to work with my acoustics guy. I’m tired of traveling back and forth to New York and LA to work with different producers. I’ve got a big house and everything I love is there. So I want them to come to me. But we got to make this place state of the art. You interested?”