Chapter twelve Willow #2
“Glad to hear. I hope you’re finding Carrington Cove to be welcoming to you.”
“For the most part it has.”
“Except for the asshole you met at Catch & Release your first night here, huh?”
I spin around to find Dallas standing behind us, clearly eavesdropping on our conversation with a pleased smirk on his face. But it’s what he’s dressed in that’s taking my breath away.
I feel like Rachel in that episode of Friends where Ross comes into Central Perk, dressed in a Navy Sailor’s uniform, fulfilling one of her fantasies.
Except Dallas is wearing his Marine dress blues, and I didn’t know that a man dressed in uniform was one of my fantasies until now.
I’ve seen many men in a suit, but none of them even compared to the fine male specimen standing in front of me. And the worst part is, he’s not even trying—he just does so effortlessly.
He’s wearing that uniform like it was designed just for his body.
It makes me both hate him and want him even more.
It’s bad enough that Dallas is the type of man that is good-looking in a rugged way—a manly way—the type of man that makes blue jeans and a simple black shirt look like a coat of armor or the newest version of male lingerie.
His aviators seem custom-made to highlight the sharp lines of his face, and when he takes them off to reveal his eyes, eyes that can hold you captive with a searing power that makes you feel frozen in place.
But now I know he can make a uniform look better than a five-piece suit.
And that beard.
I never thought a beard was something I would be attracted too, but Dallas wears his trim beard like he is the spokesperson for facial hair.
And I’m becoming desperate to feel it burn the inside of my thighs.
His presence is overwhelming—strong, proud, intense, and yet comforting, like being in his vicinity means you don’t have to look over your shoulder at every turn. Although, in a town like Carrington Cove, I assume there’s not much to be wary of, unlike D.C.
And that’s when I realize he makes me feel protected—and that’s a more serious problem than the throbbing between my legs.
As I come back to reality and remember that I have a voice, Mrs. Hansen chimes in. “Oh, that can’t be right. I expect better from you, Dallas.”
“Yes ma’am. And I assure you I’m working on making it up to her.”
Flabbergasted, I continue to stare up at him as Astrid clears her throat. “Well, Mrs. Hansen, it was so nice to see you, but I’m going to take Willow around to mingle a bit. We’ll catch up with you later.”
“Oh, yes, dear. Have a good evening. I’m going to go find my husband before his speech.” She pats Astrid on the arm before walking away, and I finally feel like I can breathe again, even if for just a second.
“Hello, Willow,” Dallas says, pulling my attention back to him.
I clear my throat and straighten my spine. “Hello, Dallas.”
As I stand there, I watch his eyes eat me up appreciatively, and I swear I can feel the livewire of electricity move across my skin with his eyes. “You look…”
“Dallas!” A short brunette waves her hand in the air, marching across the room toward us and interrupting his thought. “Where the hell have you been?”
Irritation washes over him, but he brushes it off quickly. “I just got here, Hazel. Calm down.”
“Can you please just come over to our table? Mom looks like she’s getting overwhelmed, and I think it would make her feel better if we were all there.”
His eyes bounce between me and the woman whom I now know is his sister—a detail I know thanks to Astrid’s intel, though the uncanny resemblance between them would give it away regardless. “Yeah, I’ll be right there.” Hazel rolls her eyes before walking away, but thankfully, Astrid chimes in.
“Go, Dallas. We’ll catch up with you later. I’ll make sure to come by and say hello to your mom. I haven’t seen her in a while.”
Every feature of Dallas’s face finally softens. “She’d like that, Astrid. I’ll see you both later then, I guess.”
“We’ll be here.”
“Glad you’re here, Willow.” With a curt nod but a lingering stare, he walks away, leaving us standing there as I study his purposeful strides and the way his body is enhanced by every line of his suit.
“You okay there, girl?” Astrid asks, stepping directly in front of me so I have no choice but to focus on her.
“Uh.” I swallow roughly and nod. “Yeah.”
“I think you have a little drool coming out of the side of your mouth.” She reaches toward me as if to wipe it off.
“What? No I don’t!” I reply, reaching up to wipe the corner of my lips and finding nothing there.
Astrid just laughs at me. “Jesus, Willow. Could you be any more transparent?”
Sighing, I tip back the rest of my champagne and then search the room. “I think I need to walk around a bit. Get some fresh air.”
Astrid narrows her eyes at me. “Yeah. Okay. Just don’t go too far, and let me know if you need anything. I’m going to go say hello to a few people and I’ll meet you at our table for dinner.”
I nod. “Sounds good.”
Astrid leaves me to my own devices, so I decide that another glass of champagne is necessary. I head toward the bar, secure my drink, and then continue to walk around the room, surveying the remaining posterboards displaying pictures.
There are so many stories, memories and lives lived and lost on the faces of these men and women. But there’s also a sense of family, like everyone in this room is connected through this common organization, through the oath and purpose their loved ones took on by signing up to serve their country.
I wonder if that’s how my parents felt—like they were part of this too, connected to the men and women they went to write about. I wonder if they ever thought they’d sacrifice their lives without agreeing to yield a weapon. And I wonder where I would be right now if they were still here.
Not in Carrington Cove, that’s for sure.
I turn back to face the room full of people, catching several sets of eyes directed toward me. Dolly from the inn smiles and waves at me from across the room, but her face is the only friendly face I recognize in a crowd of strangers.
I’ve been in this town for a little over a month, and yet I still don’t know many people here, which is glaringly obvious by the judgmental stares I’m receiving right now, accompanied by muttered observations.
With a deep breath of courage, I attempt to make the most of this evening and decide that this is as good of an opportunity as any to put myself out there.
I head for Dolly first, catching her up to speed on the developments with the house and sarcastically thanking her for my coffee and muffin addiction.
She introduces me to Greg and Jenny, the owners of the Sunshine Bakery, whom I then proceed to gush to about the blueberry muffins—which, come to find out, is actually Astrid’s recipe, and I can’t believe she never told me.
I’m going to give her shit for that later.
Then they lead me to Judy, who created the scarecrow that Dallas got me, which she instantly picks up on the moment she sees me.
My conversation with Judy leads me to Harold, Baron, and Thompson, the men I played darts with last week, who are apparently still bitter after their loss.
I’m having such a good time talking with these people that I feel slightly disappointed when it’s interrupted by the call for dinner being served.
“Hey. You doing okay?” Astrid asks as we settle into our seats.
“Yeah, actually. I’m having a good time.” My eyes nearly sting with tears as those words leave my mouth.
What is happening to me?
Surprise paints her features. “See? I told you. Tonight is going to be good for you.”
We wait for our turn for the buffet, filling our plates with two different kinds of pasta, salad, and freshly baked bread.
I fight the urge to moan out loud at the taste of the food because it’s that delicious.
But a few of the people we’re seated with divulge that it’s from a local Italian restaurant that catered the event for free.
For a moment I feel like I’m living someone else’s life, until my phone buzzes with email after email coming through. Part of me wants to answer, but the other part of me knows that if it were urgent, Katrina would call me.
So, I decide to turn it off completely, which is something I haven’t done in years.
But I don’t want any distractions tonight.
My mind and heart are invested in this room full of people.
Mr. Hansen calls everyone’s attention to the stage, beginning the festivities and presentations for the night. He gives a brief history of the center, and then passes the microphone to the Marine acting as the emcee for the ceremony.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” His deep voice echoes through the sound system, pulling everyone’s attention to the stage.
“I’m First Sergeant Hank Lyle of the United States Marines, and it is an honor to be gathered with you all tonight.
” The crowd drops their utensils and rings out in applause.
“I’d like to welcome you all to the thirty-third annual veterans’ dinner at the Carrington Cove Center, and thank you for attending this celebration this evening. ”
He continues with his speech, going into the history of the Marines, how many local men and women have served, and how this center has expanded since it was founded over thirty years ago. Then he moves into discussing the Marines that lost their lives this year, starting with active duty.
Emotion clouds the room as family after family gathers on stage, receiving a plaque from the center in honor of their loved ones. A few of the men were so young, less than three years into their service when they died in battle. One woman died while saving the life of a civilian off-duty.
And then the crowd grows quiet as Sergeant Lyle clears his throat and speaks about the last recipient.