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“They’re right here in California, aren’t they?” The colonel phrased it as a question though he clearly already knew the answer.
“All except my little brother Logan, yes. He lives in Colorado.”
“Practically next door. Sounds like easy logistics on your end, Major.” The colonel turned to her. “Where’s your family, Chloe?”
The conversation was taking a dangerous turn, but she had no idea how to get it onto a safer track. “My dad lives in Texas.” She hesitated, unsure how much to reveal, and then decided to simply be honest. “My mom lives in Pennsylvania with her new husband. My parents split up when I was a teen, and I went to live with my grandmother in Mississippi.” A cough helped clear the lump from her throat. “She had a stroke almost eighteen months ago and passed.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” Loretta piped up.
“Me too, but Grandma lived a full, happy life. She counted her blessing and taught me to do the same. The day my mom shipped me off to live with her was the best day of my life—though I didn’t know it at the time. She gave me the kind of secure, loving home my parents never quite managed.”
Loretta reached over and touched Chloe’s arm. “It’s difficult to build a secure home on a rocky marriage.”
Chloe nodded her agreement. “Yes. My parent’s divorce was long overdue. My dad is career Army and my mom detested everything about military life. She sank into a depression every time my dad got transferred to a new post. She hated packing up, leaving everyone and everything she knew behind, and having to put down roots in a new place. The only thing she hated more than moving was being left behind when he went on deployments.”
Michael settled his hand on her shoulder and squeezed, offering her comfort, without a hint of Stick a cork in it, Chloe. Nevertheless, she wished he’d put paralyzing pressure on her occipital nerve because she had to stop talking. Every word out of her mouth focused on the dark side of a military marriage—all the reasons she’d vowed never to get involved with a member of the armed forces. Why in God’s name couldn’t she muzzle herself?
“Deployments are hard,” Loretta sympathized.
Chloe nodded, vaguely aware she was twisting and untwisting her napkin in her lap. “We both worried about him a lot. In addition to the worry, Mom felt abandoned, and she doesn’t do ‘alone’ very well. It made her especially susceptible to…ah…attention from other sources. Their marriage spiraled to the point where my folks were both just”—shut up…shut up…for fuck’s sake, shut up—“bitter and disillusioned with each other. I can’t tell you how many times I promised myself I’d never be with a man in uniform.”
Silence rushed in. Her words seemed to hang in the air above the table. Michael continued to rub her shoulder, but, otherwise, she sensed a distinct lack of movement around her. She glanced up and found the Hardings staring at her. Nice work.
The colonel slowly nodded. “You understand,” he said quietly. “You know how challenging a military marriage can be. That’s good. I see too many kids today—and no offense to either of you, but when you’re on my side of forty, everyone on the other side of that birthday is a kid—who don’t have the first clue what they’re getting into. I’m pleased to know you’re going into this with your eyes wide open.”
Loretta nodded. “I agree. And I think the fact that you accepted Michael’s proposal, knowing everything you know about the unique issues a military spouse deals with, means you love him very much.”
The breath trapped in her lungs leaked out her nose. She looked at Michael helplessly, unsure what to say.
“I think it’s time for a toast,” the colonel declared. “To the three most important things in life—truth, love, and the U.S. Marine Corps.”
Chapter Twelve
Michael stepped onto the Hardings’ front walk and felt a strong urge to kiss the ground like an astronaut returning to Earth after a long, hazard-fraught mission. Instead, he kept one arm around Chloe and a smile plastered on his face. The Hardings stood together, framed by the doorway, waving good night. Then Mrs. Harding called out, “Wait! Your cobbler pan… Stan, can you—”
“I’m on it,” the colonel assured her and disappeared into the house.
Loretta motioned them closer to the door. “I’m not sure he’ll find it. I may have put it in the dishwasher. Hold on. I’ll be right back.”
That left Chloe, highlighted in the glow from the entryway, with a dark purple dusk as a backdrop, looking up at him with smoky gray eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“Why? You were”—he moved closer—“perfect.”
“You really think so?” With her chin angled up toward his face, her breath tickled his lips and he imagined pressing them against hers. “There were a few spots where I thought I sort of screwed up.”
He brought his mouth another millimeter closer to hers. “Absolutely not. You nailed this evening. They couldn’t get enough of you.”
She gave him a faint smile. “They’ll get over it. Everybody does.”
A part of him wondered if he would, before she moved on, but all he said was, “I’m going to be the most pitied man on base when you dump my ass.”
Her smile widened. “That’s not how it’s going to go down.” She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair; let her nails massage his scalp. “You’re going to get cold feet and call off the engagement, and I’m going to fly off to parts unknown to try and put my shattered heart back together.”
He was ready to point out that nobody in their right mind would believe he’d called things off when her eyes drifted to his mouth, her lips parted, and suddenly he couldn’t think of anything except spending the rest of the night tasting the dips and curves of her lips. He slid his hand down to the small of her back and pulled her against him. Her soft parts yielded to his hard ones.
She tipped her head and grinned up at him—an extremely sexy grin. “You remember when I excused myself to use the restroom after Stan and Loretta toasted to our long, happy future?”
“Yes.”
