Chapter 3
Marc
Icontemplated the list I’d started last night as I tapped my pen against my bottom lip.
The scope of work was about what I expected.
Or, in other words, significantly more work than Great Aunt Petunia insisted needed to be done.
There was updating the lighting, replacing several of the shelving and display tables, painting the walls, scraping the glass front of about a decade’s worth of grime, and I needed to see about updating the business license.
And that was just for the shop downstairs.
I had a whole separate list of the fixes I wanted to do to the little apartment I now called home.
It was a lot smaller than I remembered, but then I was also a lot bigger than when I’d visited and helped out over the summers as a kid.
For a single guy without a social life, it was perfect.
Though the sorry state of the space really drove home how much work needed to be done and that there was no way I could do it on my own.
I was capable enough for most things, but others required at least a two-man team.
Which begged the question: What the hell was taking Jones so damn long to get here?
I glanced at my phone sitting on the coffee table, even though I knew there hadn’t been another message from him since he’d sent
Jones: Help is on the way!
That had been twelve hours ago. Now we were creeping up on 9 p.m. and I hadn’t received a single update.
I’d have been worried if I weren’t so irritated.
He knew how important this was to me. I’d told him all about it when he’d asked almost a year ago whether I planned to pursue officer training.
I wasn’t career military. Hell, I’d only enlisted to appease my father.
I threw the pen down on top of my ever-growing lists scattered across the coffee table and rubbed my tired eyes.
Stressing about when Jones would get here wouldn’t solve anything, and I had an early day ahead of me.
I got up from the couch, which was in surprisingly great shape considering how old it was.
Though I had my doubts about the pull-out mattress.
It probably—definitely—needed to be replaced.
Then again, Jones wasn’t exactly my favorite person at the moment.
I snickered to myself at the thought of worn-out springs jabbing him in the back while he tried to sleep as I changed for bed.
It would serve him right for forgetting his promise, because despite what he said, I knew he’d forgotten.
Part of that was on me. I should have reminded him sooner, but there’d been so much going on that it was time to go before I knew it.
I’d just begun brushing my teeth when a knock came at the door.
Relief washed over me, and I made my way through the single bedroom into the open kitchen-living space to answer the door.
“It’s about damn time,” I said around my toothbrush as I opened the door.
“What’d you do, paddle across the bay?” My toothbrush hung from my slack mouth as the man who definitely was not Jones turned to regard me with a smile.
“I didn’t realize that was an option,” JD Fucking Gallagher said.
I took in the stuffed rucksack on his back and his obviously expectant look and seriously contemplated shutting the door and trying again.
“Are you going to invite me in, Weathers, or should I have brought my bedroll to bunk in the hall?” He raised a copper eyebrow, and I lurched into motion.
I stepped out of his way and into the kitchen to spit out my toothpaste and wipe my mouth. “Sergeant First Class Gallagher. What are you doing here?”
He laughed to himself as he stepped inside the small apartment, which now felt microscopic with his giant self in it, and dropped his bag on the floor beside the couch. “Of course Jones didn’t tell you.”
“Didn’t tell me what?” I asked, my voice an embarrassing mix of strained nerves and irritation.
“He had some family stuff come up. I owed him one. So here I am.”
A beat went by as we stared at each other, then said at the same time, “He forgot.”
“Fuck,” I groaned, leaning my elbows on the kitchen counter and covering my face. If I’d known something like this could happen, it would have been at the top of my list of worst nightmares.
“He mentioned something about helping you move and fixing up a shop? I’m assuming that would be the old flower shop downstairs.”
I grunted in reply and wondered how long it would take for him to call me out for being a creepy voyeur. Why the fuck couldn’t Jones have given me a heads-up? Anyone else would have been better than Sergeant Gallagher.
“So, what’s it going to be?”
My eyes widened behind my hands at the proximity of the voice. I slowly lowered my hands to see JD’s face less than a foot away as he mirrored my pose on the counter. “What’s what going to be?” I asked tentatively.
“The shop downstairs.”
“A flower shop,” I replied flatly. Surprise flickered in his blue-green eyes. “What?”
“Nothing. You just don’t look the type to be a florist. Are you helping someone get it up and running? Friend, family, girlfriend?”
I bristled at his assumption. “No. And what exactly does the ‘florist-type’ look like, Sergeant?”
He winced. “You’re right, that was an asinine thing to say.
I should know better than anyone to check my assumptions at the door.
I apologize.” He waited for me to nod stiffly, then added, “Oh, and do you think we could drop the rank-business? This is my first extended leave in eight years, and I’d rather not be reminded of that every time someone talks to me. That okay with you, Weathers?”
“Marc,” I said by reflex, though I wasn’t sure what to make of the wide grin that spread across his face.
“Marc it is,” he said, extending his hand, grin still in place.
I automatically accepted the handshake, doing my best to stuff my issues into a box and yeet them to the far recesses of my mind.
Not easy tasks, with the way his fingers seemed to glide over my palm and his firm, yet oddly gentle grip. Then he flexed his fingers.
I sucked in a sharp breath, and promptly blue-screened.
All I could think about was the way those same fingers had slid through the brunette’s hair, how they’d tightened, and she’d moaned.
The sadistic part of my brain couldn’t help but wonder if I would react the same.
And with that curious thought, I lurched back to reality where JD was wearing a smirk I had no desire to decipher and apparently saying something.
I shook my head. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day, with… surprises. What were you saying?”
Something sparked in his intense blue-green eyes—and, yep, not going there.
I could deal with my crazy on my own time.
“Exactly that. I was asking if it was alright if we turned in for the night. It’s been a long ass day with the layover from hell.
” I blinked, not trusting anything my brain was interpreting.
“I noticed you were brushing your teeth?” he added when I continued to stare blankly at him.
“Oh! Yeah. Of course. Shit, I must be more tired than I thought.” I ran a hand over my face, not that it did anything for my headspace.
“It’s a small apartment, so the only bathroom is the en-suite.
” I gestured vaguely toward the bedroom and realized too late what a hot fucking mess it was in there.
JD nodded his appreciation and grabbed his bag from the floor, then headed to the bathroom.
The moment I heard the door shut, I bolted into the bedroom and started cleaning like it was my first week in basic training.
By the time JD finished, the bedroom wouldn’t pass a thorough inspection, but at least it didn’t look like a bomb had gone off, and I was finishing setting up the pullout bed in the living room.
“This will work great,” JD said as he came into the room holding a pillow from the bed, his bag casually thrown over one broad shoulder. “My feet might not even hang off if I sleep sideways.”
I frowned and glanced behind him toward the bedroom. “What are you talking about? The bed is plenty long enough, even for giants like you.”
He laughed, and for one tiny, tiny moment, I wasn’t stressed the fuck out about this horrible turn of events. Shame it couldn’t last. “You’re not exactly short, Marc.”
I shrugged and, after floundering with what to do with my hands, settled on shoving them into the pockets of my exercise shorts. A move that did not escape Gallagher. “Maybe not, but I’m not exceptionally tall either. I’m average.”
“Average is not a word I would use to describe you.” His gaze never left mine, but it didn’t diminish the sensation of being catalogued from head to toe.
I cleared my throat, though it did nothing for my mounting embarrassment.
“Anyway, the bed is more than big enough. I’m sure you’ll be fine.
” I turned to grab the extra blanket I’d taken out, only to whip back around at the squeak of old springs and find JD sitting on the pullout, plumping the pillow he’d grabbed. “Um, what are you doing?”
He glanced at me with a raised eyebrow. “Going to sleep.”
“Okay, but you’re sleeping in there.” I pointed to the bedroom as if he needed instructions.
He set the pillow aside and leaned back on his arms to look at me. My heart lurched into my throat, and breathing suddenly became a chore. “Was Jones going to sleep on the couch?”
“Yeah,” I replied by rote. The rest of my brain was too absorbed in the way he’d watched me with half-lidded eyes while he thrust his hips and asked me if I liked how that felt.
“Then unless I’m not sleeping in that bed alone, if the couch is good enough for Jones, it’s good enough for me.”
I finally latched onto what he was saying and shook my head. “No, I can’t let you do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you… you’re…” A higher rank than me and saved my life. “Look, I can’t just let you sleep on the couch. Jones is another matter.”
“Well, Jones isn’t here. I am.”
I huffed. I was one hundred percent going to be ripping Jones a new one for this stunt. “But your feet are going to hang off.”
“Not if I sleep diagonally.” He winked and continued to get comfortable as if I wasn’t still standing right there, which included removing his worn Army shirt before pulling back the covers.
NOPE.
I all but scurried into the bedroom, not even sure if I’d offered some kind of “goodnight” or “sleep well”.
By the time I’d gotten under the covers and as comfortable as I was going to get, I had several choice things I planned to say to Jones first thing in the morning.
As it was, it’d be a miracle if I could fall asleep at all with the man I was absolutely never supposed to see again lying in the other room barely wearing more than he had been the last time I’d seen him.
Then I realized he hadn’t taken just a pillow. He’d taken mine.
Fuck.