Page 11 of Grunt: A Marine Romance

The night winded down quickly as the spectators milled around the ballroom, saying their goodbyes. The judges had vacated their posts. Reporters wandered the room, searching for any available dancers.

Bret made his way over to the floor.

Wrapping herself in a robe, Selena withdrew from the crowd, Benny following her.

Bret gazed at Selena and finished his beer. Dima posed for pictures, which was fine by Bret. He didn’t know what he would say to Dima when they would finally meet again.

“Congrats, Sel. I’m glad I came to watch.”

Selena beamed, still short of breath. “Thanks, Bret.” She leaned forward, planting a light kiss on his cheek.

She was sweaty and her hair was wild. Bret grinned, looking down, not wanting her to see his face. He’d always liked her like this.

“Well, I hate to cut this rip snorter of a party short,” Benny said, “but we’ve just confirmed your assignments. Your celebrity partners want to meet tomorrow. Sorry for the short notice, but this show business thing is highly unpredictable, isn’t it?” He opened his jacket and handed paperwork to Selena and Bret.

“San Francisco?” Selena asked, looking up at Bret.

“Marin, actually. You and Bret are paired with a bloke and his Sheila. I can’t tell you their names, but they’re icons.”

Marin, of course. Benny was sending Bret and Selena to their hometown, where they’d fallen in love so many years ago.

Selena shook her head. “We start tomorrow? I only packed for the competition.”

“Sorry, luv. We just got word that they have to start training early because they both have a charity commitment and need to take the following week off when you were supposed to start. They’re expecting you both tomorrow evening.”

Selena stood there, blotting her head with a towel, the self-tanner staining the fabric. “But there’s no flight assignments, just an address. What time is our flight?”

Benny gave a big grin, his grey eyebrow inching up like a worm. Bret knew that look from years ago.

“Well, Selena. That’s a great question. You’ll be gobsmacked. Bret, Selena, please step outside.”

Bret took a deep breath. He was used to Benny’s games but didn’t have a clue what he was planning.

Benny signaled to the film crew and led everyone outside of the hotel.

The etched glass doors spread. A lifted, shiny, silver Ford truck stood there in all its glory. It had all the bells and whistles, a huge grill, custom rims, and bright, shiny headlights.

Benny handed Bret the keys. “Bret, m’boy. This is your new truck! Courtesy of Ford. They’ve donated it to you as a welcome gift for our American Hero!”

Bret’s jaw dropped. “Are you messing with me?” He stood there in awe of the truck. He didn’t deserve this, and definitely didn’t want to owe anyone anything. The only reason he had agreed to go on this show was to raise money for Pierce’s family—not to be showered with gifts that he hadn’t earned.

“Too right!” Benny opened the truck’s door.

This was unreal. Bret wondered what price he would have to pay for this gift. This Ford Raptor was Bret’s dream truck. It had to be worth at least sixty thousand dollars. His stomach ached. How could they just throw money at him? He wouldn’t, couldn’t accept this “gift” when his men were struggling to make ends meet while risking their lives.

“It’s very generous, Benny, but I can’t accept this. It’s too expensive. My truck is perfectly fine,” he said, the video camera just inches from his face. His ten-year-old basic model GMC Sierra, needed new brake pads and a fresh coat of paint but it was paid off and still ran.

Benny signaled the cameras to shut off. “Okay, so the deal is, Ford is sponsoring the show, and giving you the truck. In exchange, we are giving them free advertising.”

“Out of the question. I won’t take it.”

Selena butted in. “Bret, take the truck. You don’t really have a choice. Ford is one of our sponsors.”

Bret’s face warmed. He wouldn’t be backed into a corner. “I refuse.”

Benny put his arm around Bret. “Mate, you can always sell the ‘ute. We can even do an auction after the season for charity. But you have to ride in it.”

“If I have no choice. . .” his voice trailed off, wondering how they would manipulate him next.