The Marine And Me

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Chloe was no expert on cowboys, but this Marine certainly had a very nice…backside.

She felt naughty for even thinking such a thing. What was wrong with her? She’d certainly never ogled Brad’s posterior. Yet here she was, unable to look away from Steve. His jeans fit him to perfection.

She could tell he kept his wallet in his right back pocket. The denim there was lighter. Not that his wallet was thick or bulging.

Bulging…oh jeez. Now her thoughts turned really naughty.

She blushed. This was ridiculous. She wasn’t an adolescent making cow-eyes at some guy in study hall.

“Hand me that wrench, would you?”

The sound of Steve’s deep voice made her jump guiltily, her knitting needles tumbling off her lap onto the steps with a clatter.

“Sure.” Her own voice sounded as squeaky as a mouse. She came closer and looked at the metal tool-box open on the ground. Finding what she needed, she handed him the wrench he’d requested.

He didn’t look up as he held out his free hand for her to give him the tool. Her fingers brushed his as she transferred the metal object from her grasp to his. A startling hum of awareness traveled up her arm at the simple touch. Not a good sign.

She gathered her tattered self-control. “How’s it going?” Translation—how long are you going to be draped over my car looking like an Adonis and making me drool like an idiot?

“No problems.”

Easy for him to say. She had plenty of problems, not the least of which was her reaction to him. You’d think that her experience with Brad would have short-circuited any possible response to a great-looking man, but no. Not in this case.

She tried looking over his shoulder, as if she knew what he was doing.

“There, that should do it.” Steve stood so quickly he almost knocked her off her feet.

“Oops. Sorry about that.” He caught her, his hands gripping her arms with strength and seduction. The seduction part came from the soothing brush of his thumbs over her bare skin. “I didn’t see you standing there.”

Right. That’s the way she’d wanted it. To be invisible. That was in her comfort zone. This wasn’t.

She stepped away and slid her glasses farther up the bridge of her nose. “I’ll go make our sandwiches then. You can clean up in the bathroom. It’s down the hall,” she added as he followed her into the house.

“Yeah, I know. This floor plan is like my grandmother’s.” But where his grandmother had her knick-knacks all over the place, Chloe only had a few things. She did have lots of books, though. They were on every shelf, every tabletop. Even so, they didn’t make the place look messy.

As he washed up, Steve considered his reaction to Chloe. A knitting librarian who read for fun. She needed someone to show her how to have a good time. Not sexually, he wasn’t the kind of guy to seduce a woman and leave. He was only in town for a few weeks, after all.

It seemed so simple to him. Neither he nor Chloe were looking for any kind of romantic entanglements in their lives. So it made sense for them to join forces.

Now he just had to convince her of that. But the moment he walked into the kitchen, he could tell by her defensive posture that she was ready for him to pitch his plan. Well-versed in tactical maneuvers, Steve decided to do the unexpected, and not bring up his plan.

Instead he made simple conversation, telling her about his drive on his Harley from California, where he was based at Camp Pendleton, to Chicago. She was surprisingly easy to talk to. She asked intelligent questions and was a good listener. She also laughed in all the right places, which pleased him no end.

She really did have the most expressive face. Even though her black-framed glasses occasionally shielded her eyes, the emotions still shone through. So did their sparkling blue color.

She wasn’t frumpy. She wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous either. She was somewhere in between. And she wasn’t obvious. There was real depth here. Not all surface flash.

And she could cook. The grilled-cheese sandwich was as good as she’d promised. He ate two. She’d also added big bowls of tomato soup, complete with those little fancy crackers floating in it.

He could see her relaxing as time went on, making him think this would be a good time to reintroduce his plan into the conversation.

“You see, I’m not so bad, right? So maybe now the idea of our joining forces doesn’t seem such a bad one.”

“I still think being up-front with your grandmother is the best way.”

He could see her getting all prickly again, so he didn’t push it. She had a stubborn streak, and the more he pushed her, the more likely it was that she’d just dig in her heels.

So he changed the subject again, and proved he knew his way around a kitchen by clearing the table and loading the dishwasher.

“You cooked, it’s only fair that I clean up.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Thank you. Thank you also for fixing my car. I appreciate it.” Her voice was very polite. “But it doesn’t mean I think your idea of us joining forces is a good one,” she felt compelled to warn him.

“I just haven’t convinced you yet. I will.”

Steve was gone before Chloe could contradict his outrageous claim.

His self-confidence really was amazing. Well maybe not, given how good-looking he was.

And, in addition to that, he was a Marine. They were hardly known to be shrinking violets.

Chloe wondered what it would be like to be so sure of yourself. She had no idea. She’d never felt that way.

Or maybe she had before her parents had died. If so, she had no memory of it.

She’d learned to be self-reliant, but it wasn’t really the same as self-confident. Not by a long shot.

The bottom line here was that for some reason, Steve brought out a certain wildness in her and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Not sure at all.

Chloe always did her grocery shopping on Saturday afternoon. Today was no exception. It didn’t matter that her morning had started out with Steve on her front step. It didn’t matter that they’d had lunch together after he’d finished repairing her car. She had a schedule and she stuck to it.