What Part of Marine Don't You Understand? (The Challenge Series) Read online

  The music changed with her mood and took on an upbeat, almost folksy quality and she giggled. Four older brothers had been bad enough, four older Marines made it that much worse. She hadn’t gone on a real date—one that hadn’t included an older brother lurking somewhere in the vicinity—until college. She majored in music and minored in psychology. Somewhere along the way, she dropped the psych and focused on music full time.

  Slowing the tempo, she found a particular chord she liked and repeated it three or four times before she wrote it down. The song crystallized and she paused to title the music sheet.

  Growing Up Marine

  Perfect.

  It took another hour to work out all the notes, bridges, and changes. But she had her first song. She’d just shaded in the last note when the sound of a clearing throat interrupted her. A man stood in the shade a few feet away, a beautiful black Labrador sitting patiently at his side.

  Oh, God. How long have they been there?

  Undeterred, she grinned. “Hello.”

  “Good morning.” Blond hair, high and tight, broad shoulders stretching his Marine green shirt, and dark sweatpants hiding his legs—yeah, everything about him said Marine—including the perfect posture despite the respectable tree he could be leaning against. “Sorry for the intrusion.”

  “I’m sitting in the middle of a park, basically next to a running trail. Not the best place for privacy if that’s what I was looking for.” She set the guitar aside and rose up on her knees. “Hello, puppy, are you friendly?”

  The man chuckled. “He’s very friendly. Go on, Jethro, go say hello.”

  The Labrador bounded over. His sun-warmed coat was soft beneath her fingers, and he bestowed a slurping kiss on her cheek before returning to his owner.

  “What a great name for a dog—tell me you named him after Mark Harmon’s character—please….”

  “Sorry ma’am, wish that I could. But he already had his name when I got him.” He shrugged his shoulders and gave her an apologetic smile. “You’re new here?”

  “Well, yes and no. I’m spending a few weeks here as a favor to my brother and—for inspiration.” And maybe, just maybe, that crazy service will come through.

  “Inspiration?” He nodded to her guitar.

  “Guilty.” Rising, she dusted the grass off of her jeans. Her legs protested after languishing cross-wise for the last little while, but she ignored the pins and needles. “I’m recording an album in a few weeks and I’m putting together a song list.”

  “Never really thought about the people who write music—just thought—well—I guess I don’t know what I thought.” A smile warmed his faint grimace. “Sorry.”

  “I never knew people wrote them either. I remember listening to all these great songs on the radio when I was a kid and thinking I want to sing like they do. So I would buy their tapes and CDs and practice. I really liked the ones that came with the lyrics. Then I could see the words and sing along. I think I memorized every one and then sometime around third or fourth grade, I’m at this school in Germany, and the teacher told me if I liked music so much I should write my own. I stared at her and was like, ‘you can write music?’”

  Laughing, Naomi threw her hands up. “She goes off on this German diatribe and then says, ‘where do you think music comes from silly girl?’ and I have no idea where it would have come from, but after that I wanted to write my own. Drove my father nuts until he agreed to lessons and well—now here I am.” Babbling like an absolute idiot and this man has a deer in the headlights look. Shut. Up. But, he really has the prettiest blue eyes.

  “Is it hard?”

  She drew a blank. “Is what hard?”

  “Writing music?” He unclipped the dog’s leash and strung it around his neck. Picking up a stick, he threw it and the dog streaked after it.

  “Yes. And no. It’s hard to get the notes on the paper the way I hear it in my head. Sometimes I just have to escape away from all distractions, and play until I hear it so clearly I can write it down.” Wow, you just can’t shut up, can you? Chewing her lip, she scuffed a shoe against the grass. Jethro trotted over with his stick and presented it proudly. The man took it and threw it again.

  “Well, if it helps, I liked what you were playing. It was—nice.”

  “Thank you. I’m Naomi Sparks by the way….” She took a couple of steps forward and held out her hand.

  He stared at her for a long moment before taking it in his warm, callused, strong grip—and her insides did a little shimmy.

  “Matt McCall.”

  Chapter Four

  Matt opened the cabinet and his gaze landed on the locked gun case. Nudging it to the side, he reached behind it for the power strip. After rewiring the television and sound system, he still had to relocate his laptop’s power strip for the job. It took a while to remember if he had a second one and where he stored it. Locking the cabinet and pocketing the keys, he looked around the apartment. Jethro watched him from his claimed corner of the new sofa.

  The furniture had trickled in over the last several days. He’d talked to Lauren and James about wanting to make the apartment feel like more than a bunk, so Lauren went shopping. He wasn’t sure about the lamps or why she ordered different shades than the ones they came with, but he followed her orders to exchange them when they arrived.

  The fifty-five inch flat screen he’d picked out for himself. Grabbing the laptop off the table, he set everything up on the coffee table. Grabbing a cup of coffee from the kitchen, he carried it to the sofa and turned the game on. The dog yawned, bored with his fussing and curled up to sleep. Grinning, Matt powered up the computer. He hadn’t turned it on in so long, the battery had died.

  The little red light warned him he had to keep it plugged into a power source. Sipping the coffee and watching the game, he left the web browser open, but blank. Every day since he’d met Naomi, he took Jethro past the spot in the park—just to see her. Two days in a row and no sign of her.

  He should have asked for her number.

  But day three, the sound of her guitar floated down the path toward him and he’d quickened his pace. She sat exactly where he’d seen her the first time. Her head down, guitar in her lap, and alternately strumming the strings and slapping her hand against the wood of the instrument to create a rhythm. He motioned Jethro to sit and stood listening to her for several minutes before she chided him for hovering.

  Accepting the invitation, he found a spot to sit and listened to her for a couple of hours. Unfortunately, she had to run because of an appointment, and he tried not to examine his disappointment too closely. The next several days followed the same pattern, and she was there…every single day.

  He wanted to ask her out.

  But every time he thought about it, the words stuck in his throat. So he hung out, she played her guitar and wrote down the mysterious notes on her sheet paper, and he threw sticks for Jethro. His favorite part of the day.

  Draining half the coffee, he eyed the computer. Like so many other members of his unit, he signed up for the 1Night Stand service, but kept his profile inactive. He didn’t trust himself alone much less with some random woman. When he’d broached the subject of enlisting Madame Eve’s services with Doc, he received a cautious approval to consider the idea.

  Of course, a one-night stand with a stranger is not asking Naomi out on a date. He leaned away from the computer. One night, no strings, some fun and a trial run to see if he could survive an evening out with her. If he completely tanked it with the stranger, then no harm and no foul.

  And if he didn’t screw it up and got laid, would he be able to look Naomi in the eye and ask her out? It seemed strangely disloyal to be even considering the idea.

  You met her a few days ago and can’t say more than fifty words to her, so how is it disloyal? He couldn’t answer his own question. So he continued to stare at the TV screen and let the game distract him again.

  At halftime, he pulled Madame Eve’s site up and read through the ag
reements. He logged into his profile, but after filling in the data, he couldn’t hit enter. His heart rate picked up and his breathing grew shallow. Jethro whimpered and crawled across the sofa and pushed his way into Matt’s lap.

  Hugging the dog, he chuckled. “Yeah, maybe not ready for that yet, huh?”

  Jethro licked his face and they settled together to watch the game, but he didn’t close the laptop or the browser window.

  He really wanted to ask Naomi out on that date.

  ***

  Five songs written and she had a theme. She was scoring an album about Marines. And it had nothing to do with the beautiful blond who ‘happened’ along every time she sat outside composing. Of course, I’m not going out there every day to see him either. Unfortunately, steady rainfall trapped her inside for the day. The constant spatter against the window offered an interesting juxtaposition to the song she worked on.

  Her cell phone rang and she checked the incoming caller ID. Hitting answer with one finger, she chose the speakerphone option. “Hello, Charlie, you are live with a dedicated audience of one.” She grinned at her own cleverness.

  “Bratling, why aren’t you with Mom in Canada?” The second of four brothers, Charlie was the Batman to her Robin.

  “Because it’s cold as hell up there, and I didn’t feel like meeting all of Aunt Josie’s eligible, but completely underwhelming, brood of possible dates.” She’d made that mistake right after college. Her mother spent six weeks with her sister every year and for the last four, Josie seemed to have made it her mission to marry Naomi off.

  Charlie laughed. “I dunno, I thought the botanist had potential.”

  “If I were a butterfly, he would have stuck it to me every day. Other than that, I don’t think he realized I was even alive.” She suppressed a shudder and leaned forward to add a notation to the last bridge of music.

  “Nice. Brent said you were in Texas. What’s in Texas?”

  “Mike’s Place—the recovery center? I came down to do a report for Congressman Lazy Bones, and it’s pretty damn inspiring. They let me take an apartment for as long as they don’t need it for a real person. I’m trying to score this album. What’s up?”

  “You’re really going to do it then? Release an album?”

  “No, I’m going to record one. Regina Records is fronting the studio time and a producer so I can record it.” Her stomach erupted with nerves every time she thought about it. Dreaming of getting her songs out there and being heard on the radio had long been reserved for wishful thinking. If her dream actually happened—she had no idea what she would do.

  “You’re going to be great, brat, you don’t know how to be anything else.”

  Pride flooded her at the encouragement. “Thanks, Charlie. Let me ask you something—”

  “No, you cannot have my Mustang. When I get home, I want it in one piece.”

  She stuck her tongue out though he couldn’t see her. “I don’t want your stinky, old Mustang.” Such a lie, the ’66 hard body classic was to die for, but she couldn’t let him tweak her without returning a volley.

  “Well all right then, what do you want?”

  “What would you say if I met a Marine that I actually liked?”

  “I’d ask why the hell you don’t like the rest of us?” The playful retort was the verbal equivalent of tugging her braids when they were kids.

  “No, I mean, like…liked. The I-wouldn’t-mind-dating kind of like.” She held her breath waiting for his reaction. Her brothers backed her father up when it came to the no-dating-on-base rule, and since she lived on base most of the time, it really limited her dating pool. Sure, she experimented in college, who hadn’t—but not with any Marines. There had been the Navy Corpsman, but what her family didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

  “Hmm, what unit is he in?” The silky question made her laugh.

  “No, you don’t get to beat him up. He doesn’t even know I like him, like I said, I’m just…curious.”

  “Curious enough that you’re bringing it up to the one brother over three thousand miles away in Afghanistan. I see how you are.”

  “True. And you like my care packages, so you’ll keep my secret.”

  “Five boxes of Girl Scout Thin Mints and you’re on.”

  “That’s blackmail.”

  “Cost of doing business, sis. Besides I’m supposed to check in with Dad tomorrow morning. I could just mention to him….”

  “Fine. Done.” But she grinned. Where the hell do I find Girl Scout Thin Mints in the summertime? She’d figure it out.

  “Seriously though, trust your instincts, Nay. You have good ones. You like him, go for it.” And thus Charlie proved why he earned the title of her favorite brother.

  “So I can ask him out?”

  “Hell, no. You make him do it. If he isn’t Marine enough to see what a fine catch you are, he can suffer.” Pride and affection mingled in his voice, but he relented. “Just let him know you wouldn’t mind an invitation and then go out with a dozen other people. I gotta go, someone else is waiting to call home. I just wanted to check on you.”

  “I love you.” She picked up the phone. “Be safe, okay?”

  “You, too.”

  The call disconnected and she sighed. Ten years and she always had a brother serving in a war zone—sometimes more than one. She never let them know how worried she was, or how grateful for their calls, or how terribly she missed them. They needed her bright, cheerful, and keeping the home fires burning. She played her part so they could play theirs….

  And the song she wrote crystallized for her.

  Playing Our Parts.

  ***

  He rearranged his schedule to meet James early and skipped his workout. Damon came through with a lunch delivered to the apartment, so all he had to do was carry the picnic basket with its cold salads and hot sandwiches down to the park. He might not be up for activating his profile at the 1Night Stand service, but lunch—lunch he could handle. Jethro waited patiently next to the door, leash in his mouth. The dog knew his schedule better than Matt did.

  Fidgeting, he hesitated to rush out to meet her and fought the eagerness vibrating through him at the same time. Wracked by the indecision, he paced away from the door and sat down on the sofa. Closing his eyes, he focused on his breathing exercises. The Labrador abandoned his post and came over to lean against his leg. The combination of contact and deep breathing eased the constriction in his chest.

  “It’s just lunch, right? We’ve gone to hang out with her a few days now, so why is lunch hard?” He stared into Jethro’s eyes, but the soulful mutt didn’t offer up any ready answers. “Food. Company. Easy stuff, right?”

  Maybe he wasn’t ready. He didn’t want to leave her waiting. Like she’s expecting me? I’m the one going all stalker on her composing spot…. Still, it didn’t stop her from showing up day after day. If she didn’t want him to listen, would she bother?

  Clenching his fist, he rose. Breathe in. Breathe out. Pick up the basket, get Jethro’s leash, go for a walk. Offer to share lunch with her. Talk about her music. Talk about the weather….

  Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he stared at it. He didn’t want to bother James with this, but maybe…he scrolled through his contacts and hit call on Logan’s number before he could over-think it.

  “Hey Matt, what’s up?” Logan Cavanaugh was the type of Marine Matt always imagined being, the ideal he wanted to live up to. Despite his injuries—or maybe because of them—Logan remained one of the toughest men Matt knew. In addition to his job as a counselor for incoming vets at Mike’s Place and a volunteer therapist, he worked on finishing a degree specializing in everything he already did.

  The man didn’t stop and didn’t allow anything to stop him.

  “I need a favor.”

  “Name it,” Logan said.

  Noise echoed in the background, weight machines, muted voices offering encouragement and the faint thrum of music. The clanging rattled Matt. Closing his eyes, h
e forced another noisy exhale.

  “Hey, Matt…just breathe through it, man.” The noise faded. Logan must have moved away from it. A door thudded closed and cut it off completely. “In for four and out for four. You know the drill.”

  “Yeah.” Dammit, he was better, why couldn’t he act it?

  “You know there was a guy once who fell in a hole and he shouted for help. This doctor comes by and writes a prescription, throws it in the hole. The guy is still down there and he shouts again, and a priest comes by. The guy asks for help and the priest writes him a prayer and throws it down. He even promises to light a candle for him.” Logan’s voice took on an easy cadence, and with every word, Matt’s breathing grew easier. “But the guy, he’s still in the hole and he’s getting hoarse from shouting. His buddy comes by and the guy yells up to him. His buddy jumps down in the hole with him. The guy can’t believe it, he clenches his fists and demands to know why his friend did something so stupid, now they’re both stuck. His buddy tells him, ‘but I’ve been down here before and I know how to get out.’”

  Matt’s heart rate slowed.

  “I’ve been in this hole, Matt. I’m down here for as long as you need me to be and we’ll walk out together, okay?”

  “I like this girl.” He blurted the words out before he could think too hard about it.

  “Yeah?” A smile rolled through the single syllable.

  “Yeah. She’s—her name is Naomi. She’s a songwriter. I keep running into her practicing and we’ve hung out.”

  “Okay.” He didn’t push, he didn’t prod, only waited.

  “Damon sent a lunch over and I wanted to take it with me today, you know—surprise her with it.” He pushed past the hesitation. “Am I insane?”

  “Because you want to take her lunch?”

  “No, I want a whole lot more than lunch.”

  “But you’re just taking her lunch, so that’s not crazy, and if she keeps going to the same spot to practice, you’re not bugging her. Is this Sparks? Congressman Sparks sister?”