The Officer Says "I Do" (3 page)

Another few minutes went by as she grabbed a bottle of water, and no sign of him. Probably checking on his friends, or maybe he ran downstairs for breakfast, not wanting to wake her. Kind of sweet, actually. If she’d had a key to the room, she would go down and check herself. But not knowing where to start, she didn’t want to leave the room, in case he came back soon.

She dressed in the bathroom and waited, flipping through TV channels. After another twenty minutes, it dawned on her she could check to see if he was downstairs. This was where she worked, after all. And though she was mostly isolated in the restaurant, she knew other employees. Picking up the room phone, she dialed the front desk.

“Hey, this is Skye McDermott. Is Jimmy working today?”

The clerk confirmed and put her on hold. She chewed her lip, not sure how to explain the predicament.

Hey, Jimmy. Skye McDermott. Yeah, so crazy story. Last night I met a guy, got married, and came up to his comped suite to do it like animals. But today he’s gone missing. Does the hotel offer any husband-tracking amenities?

“Hey, Skye. What’s up?”

Jimmy’s easy greeting snapped her out of her wallowing. “Jimmy, hi.” Jimmy had been one of her brief forays into inner-Vegas dating. They weren’t a match, but more than that, she quickly learned that what happened in Vegas… was everyone else’s business. At least when you and your current significant other worked in the same hotel and casino, even in different sections. But if there was one person who could help her, it was Jimmy.

“I’m looking for my… friend. I stayed with him last night, and he’s not around anymore. Could you see if he’s hanging around downstairs? I don’t want to leave the room in case he comes back and we miss each other in the elevators.”

“Sure. Name and room number?”

She gave him the info, along with a description of Tim.

Through the connection, she could hear keys being punched. “Uh, Skye. Are you sure he was coming back?”

“What? Why wouldn’t he?”

“My records show he checked out of the comped suite about an hour ago. Hold on, let me ask Mandy. Says here she was the one that helped him.” Without further warning, he put her on hold.

An hour ago.

He checked out an hour ago and didn’t say a word. There was nothing he could have possibly been doing for an hour that would keep him from coming back up to the room.

Skye felt her lungs burn as her breath came in quick, shallow pants. What the hell happened? Did he leave? Was he on the way to get an attorney? Did he even remember that she was there in the bedroom? He’d folded her clothes, surely he knew. Why the hell hadn’t he woken her—

“Skye?”

She forced one long breath in and out before answering, “Yeah, Jimmy?”

“Mandy says she remembered. O’Shay checked out, then walked out the front door with two other big guys. Her impression was that he wasn’t coming back. You should call his cell; looks like you got your wires crossed.”

“Okay. Thanks,” she said, voice strangled. Before he could ask her what was wrong, she hung up the phone and choked back a sob.

In the course of twenty-four hours she’d had a girls’ night out, met a man that made her body sing, married him, and been abandoned.

What a way to start a marriage.

Tim tossed his rucksack into the bottom of the bus and simply groaned as twelve other bags covered it immediately. That’d be a bitch to find when they got to the airport. Oh well. Nothing he could do about it now.

He climbed onto the bus and took a seat up front with the other officers. After waiting for everyone to board and taking another quick head count, he signaled for the driver to head out. It was a long drive from California to Quantico, Virginia, but that was the plan. Chartered busses would take them across the country, then they would fly the rest of the way to Afghanistan.

Finally, after finishing up the annoying details of his company commander duties, he was able to pop his iPod earbuds in and listen to some music. Best of all, he hoped everyone would get the hint to leave him the fuck alone.

No such luck.

His earbud was ripped out and someone’s thick finger flicked him on the side of the head. He turned around to see Dwayne’s shit-eating grin, headphone dangling from his hand.

“What?” he growled. “It’s been ten minutes. You couldn’t possibly have something important to tell me right now.”

“Actually, since you’re completely caged in with nowhere to go, I was planning on bugging you for details about that hot piece from Vegas. It’s been a week.”

Jeremy’s head popped up from behind the seat, next to Dwayne. A twin grin split his own face. “Yeah. How about it?”

Skye. He didn’t want to talk about Skye. And he really didn’t want anyone calling her a “piece” of anything.

“Leave it alone,” he said, grabbing the earbud back. “I told you everything I planned on telling you on the flight back to Cali. We had a hot night. And I’m still pissed about you guys letting me get that wasted.”

Dwayne shrugged massive shoulders, their width only emphasized by his cammies. “Hey. You were in control. And you’re a big boy. I’m nobody’s mama.”

Jeremy gave him a reproving scowl. “You needed to loosen up, Tim. You were completely sober when you made the choice to have some more fun. Don’t act like we tricked you.”

Tim sighed. It really wasn’t Dwayne or Jeremy’s fault. He hated when other people brushed off responsibility, so he wouldn’t do it himself. But damn, he felt like a fool. And he wasn’t even sure how much he had screwed up.

Popping the bud back in his ear, he deliberately turned around and ignored their childish punches on the back of his seat. He wasn’t going to give them details about his night with Skye. She didn’t deserve that, whether she’d ever know about it or not.

And also, he wasn’t sure about a majority of what happened.

He remembered winning at cards, and he especially remembered exactly how much he had won. The amount still astonished him. He recalled having a drink or five. And then he remembered Skye.

Skye with her mile-long legs and adorable smile. With her fresh attitude and fun laugh. He remembered searing kisses behind some tree, he remembered a car ride, some flashy guy who looked like Burt Reynolds clapping him on the back. And he remembered opening the door to the free suite the hotel had given him. Everything else to that moment was either fuzzy or completely blank.

But he remembered her. He remembered how clean she smelled, how soft her breasts were, the way she arched her back when he touched her. The little pants she let out when she begged him to end the slow build and take the plunge.

Yeah. He remembered Skye. And he remembered what a dick he was the next morning, leaving before she woke up. There was no excuse for it. He’d never left without a word in his life. He didn’t often have one-nighters. They weren’t his style. He was a relationship man and was ready to make a commitment when he found the right woman.

But for some reason, the shame of facing her the next morning, not knowing what he might have said while piss-drunk or how he might have behaved, overwhelmed him. So he checked out, made sure she wouldn’t be left with any sort of tab, and took off. And he felt like a jackass for it. He wasn’t delusional, didn’t expect their one night would go anywhere. But if he had a single clue how to find her to apologize for his behavior, he would.

Someone grabbed his shoulder and shook hard.

He turned around and snapped, “What!”

Jeremy pointed to his knapsack on the seat next to him. “Your phone’s ringing, you cranky bastard.”

“Oh. Sorry,” he mumbled as he reached for his cell in the outer pocket. Not his finest moment in leadership. He checked caller ID and saw his sister was calling. He felt his heart expand and a smile crept onto his lips.

“Hey, Madison. What’s up?”

“Are you already gone? I just got off work and I was going to rush over to the battalion parking lot to see you.” Her voice was breathless and he smiled at the mental picture of her in scrubs running through the hospital parking lot to her car.

“Stand down, sweetie. We’re gone. Took off about twenty minutes ago.”

“Oh. Well never mind then.” She took a big breath and let it out. “Sorry. I tried to switch shifts but nobody was biting. I know we did the good-bye thing already but—”

“Madison, it’s cool. Don’t worry about it. I get it. You’re a nurse, you’re busy saving lives. I’m just glad you’re on the same base as me now. When we get home, you’ll be right there.”

“Literally,” she said on a laugh. “Are you sure you’re okay with me staying at your townhouse while you’re gone?”

“I’d rather have someone there than it sit empty. You can watch over it, take care of the plants, make sure nothing goes wrong or anyone breaks in.”

“You don’t have any houseplants.” She snickered. “They’d commit suicide before going home with you.”

“That’s true,” he admitted. “You know I—” He swatted at the hand grabbing for his cell. “You know how much I hate—cut it out!” He turned and glared daggers at Dwayne.

“Is that your sister?” He gave a sly smile. “Tell her I said hi.”

“Cut it out,” Jeremy interceded.

“No, I will not tell her hi for you, asshole.” He turned back around in his seat. “Mad, you still there?”

“Was that Dwayne?” He could hear the amusement in her voice.

“Yeah, it was Dwayne. Jeremy too. Ignore them, they’re giving me a—”

The phone was snatched out of his hands with special ops stealth.

“Hey there, sugar,” Dwayne drawled behind him. “How’s life treating ya?”

Tim rolled his eyes and scooted until he was sideways on the seat, able to watch his friends behind him and listen in on their side of the phone conversation. He wasn’t concerned what either bozo might say to his sister. They’d met his family countless times and thought of Madison like a little sister.

“Yeah? Are you sure you can handle living with this guy? He gets pretty pissy from time to time.” Dwayne cocked his head to one side and laughed. “Yeah, I guess you’d know better than most about his moods, huh? All right, well thanks for the luck, sweets. I appreciate it. Mail me some of those cookies you make. The ones covered in cinnamon. Yeah, those. M’kay. Here’s Jeremy.”

He held out the phone in front of Jeremy, who had a slightly panicked look on his face.

“Here,” Dwayne mouthed. “It’s just Madison. She wants to say good-bye.” When Jeremy looked frozen to the spot—what the hell was that all about?—Dwayne held the phone up to Jeremy’s ear and elbowed him in the gut so that he groaned into the receiver.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he puffed out a second later. “Hey, Madison. What’s up?”

Dwayne turned back to Tim. “So do you think the rumors are true?”

Tim snorted. “Which rumors?” Deployments and troop movements were ripe breeding grounds for rumors and hearsay. It was worse than a high school girls’ locker room.

“The ones about us having to turn around and come back. Delay the deployment last second, come back, and regroup.”

Tim shrugged. “I don’t know. You know the drill. When I know, you’ll know, unless specifically ordered. It’s been mentioned, but nothing is definite.”

Dwayne rubbed a hand down his face. “Yeah. This is the part I really hate. We’re already on the bus. Can we just fucking go already?”

“Hurry up and wait,” Tim said with a smile on his face, quoting a favorite Marine Corps saying.

Jeremy tossed the phone back in his lap. “There. She’s still on the line.”

Tim heard Jeremy mutter “jackass” to Dwayne before putting the phone back up to his ear.

“Mad? I’m gonna get off here. I’ll call you when we get to Quantico and let you know that we’re there.”

“All right. I love you, you big lug.” Her voice sounded watery, like she was choking back tears. Damn, if there was one person on this earth who could inspire him to cry, it was his baby sister.

“Cut that out,” he scolded. “You know the deal. I’ll be back before you know it. In the meantime, you get a rent-free place to live. Now, don’t pass all your cookies to Dwayne. Send some my way, okay?”

“Will do.”

“Love you, squirt.” He knew she was concentrating too hard on not bawling when she didn’t even object to his old childhood nickname for her. “I’ll call you soon.”

After hanging up the phone, he glanced back and saw both Dwayne and Jeremy engrossed in their own worlds. Dwayne with
Gun
Digest
magazine, Jeremy writing in a notebook. He was glad for the chance to slip back into his own private thoughts without the peanut gallery commentary.

But the moment he turned his iPod back on, and closed his eyes, Skye came into focus. Long hair raining down her back, firm thighs clenched around his…

Shit. He was going to have an obvious boner at this rate. Why, of all women, did he have to get stuck on the one that would never even be an option to try with? She lived in Las Vegas, for crissake. He dealt with enough long distance in life, thanks to deployments. Being with a woman who didn’t even live with him when he was in the country? Not an option.

Luckily for him, he had several long months to dedicate to forgetting her.

***

Skye held the scrap of paper in her hand. The corner was smudged and she’d dropped a piece of her grilled cheese on it. But that didn’t matter. The address it held was the most important part.

Her husband’s address.

It was a nice townhouse, about thirty minutes from base according to the Internet. She could see the appeal. Not a horrible commute, but a decent distance away to separate himself from work. Made sense. The front was painted white, with crisp blue shutters. The lawn was immaculate, shrubs all precisely identical. Very well ordered, put together.

Everything she was not.

She took a deep breath, hiked her bag up her shoulder, and walked up the sidewalk to the front door.

Her palms were sweaty as she reached for the doorbell, and she took a moment to wipe them on her light cotton skirt. Then she glanced down at her outfit. Her skirt fell to her calves, and made a fun swish with every step. The happy coral color made her feel brighter despite the circumstances. She wore sandals that tied around her ankles, and a simple white tank to let the skirt take focus. Her hair, because of the heat, was kept off her neck with a braid, though strands were already escaping. Stupid frizz.

Was this what someone wore to confront their absent husband? Was there such an outfit? She rang the doorbell before she could chicken out, hop back in her car, and head to the hotel and change.

Ten seconds passed, then twenty. She was about to turn and walk away when the door opened. A woman stood there, eying her like she was public enemy number one. Neither said a word, and Skye used the moment to take stock of the gatekeeper.

Short, probably not even five foot three. Her face was free of any makeup, but she was pretty enough without any cosmetic help. Though she’d be prettier if her face wasn’t scrunched up into an intimidating frown. Her hair was scraped back into a tight bun, not a stray in sight. Skye’s hand went unconsciously to pat her own messy nest of hair.

Though from the neck up the woman was all business, the shoulders down was another story. A baggy navy blue T-shirt with a large gold
N
on the front hung on her frame to almost her knees, paired with stained gray sweatpants that made her look younger than her likely real age. Definitely wearing a male’s clothing. Everything about her screamed “I belong here.”

Oh God. Was he dating someone else already? Did he have a live-in girlfriend the entire time in Vegas? Horrible thoughts swirled around in her mind, each possibility worse than the one before.

Thanks, Fate.

“Do you need something?” Her voice was crisp and full of authority.

Walk
away
and
say
nothing. Walk away. Go. Come back later
. “Does Tim live here?”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “I think I’d like to know who was asking.”

She took a deep breath, realized it was now or never, and blurted out, “His wife.”

***

“How long are we going to sit around here doing nothing?” Jeremy asked, kicking his bag with the toe of his boot.

Tim just stared at him. “Do I have to give you the same answer again? I told you. We’re heading back. They called us back; we knew it was a possibility. So just calm down until we can figure out the bus situation and we’ll head back.”

“Just want to do something. Anything,” Jeremy grumbled.

Tim knew. He understood completely the frustration that Jeremy felt. That bone-deep itching need to be useful. Instead they were stuck in the BOQ at Quantico for another day, waiting to see what kind of mess awaited them at home. It was a rough switch, gearing down from battle-ready to home again. But he didn’t make the final call. Their commanding officer didn’t make the call either. Everyone had a higher power. God probably had a CO.

His phone rang and he picked it out of his pocket, glad for the distraction from his pissy friend. “O’Shay.”

“Tim, hey. Still cooling your heels in Quantico?” his sister asked.

Ah. Madison. Just the distraction he needed. “Yup, still sitting pretty, Mad.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jeremy shift his drooping shoulders. Maybe he wanted something to distract him from the inaction as well. “Actually, plans are changing up around here. I’d tell you more but—”