We decide on taking a walk over to the clinic where we’ll be working, just to check things out. Mullins has always dreamed of becoming a doctor, but her parents didn’t have the money for medical school. After she served her first stint, I expected her to head to school, but when I went to re-enlist, she was right there beside me. She loves being a soldier. We have that in common.
After a few minutes scouring the base, we spot the clinic, which is a beige trailer not much bigger than our tent. Like everything else here, it’s designed to blend with the sand. There are lights on inside, but at Mullins’s suggestion, we decide to wait until the morning to be introduced to the rest of our team. My guess is she’s just as hesitant to switch roles as I am. It’s not easy giving up twelve months of your life to live in hostile territory. And it’s our first time being deployed. But if she’s nervous, it isn’t showing.
Just when we turn to leave, the front doors swing open, and three soldiers file out.
They’re so busy talking among themselves that they haven’t seen us standing here yet. Thank God. Maybe we can sneak out unnoticed.
Mullins elbows me—hard—and winks before cupping both hands around her mouth. Oh no.
“Hey!” She waves. I want to tit-punch her.
Mullins is habitually single and has already let me know in very clear terms that she couldn’t wait to get out here and stuff herself on the buffet of saluting soldiers. Her words, not mine. I just wish she’d leave me out of her shenanigans.
Their chatter stops, and all three heads whirl in our direction. Great.
“Evenin’, ladies. What can we do for ya?” the taller one asks. He then places his hands on the railing between us and jumps over, touching down right in front of me. Isn’t it my lucky night?
Lifting my head, I prepare to hand him his ass for kicking sand up into my eyes, but his beauty is distracting. His skin is a light toffee color and his hair a sandy brown that grows lighter at the tips. His eyes are the color of honey, and when he smiles down at me, a dimple appears on his right cheek. Lord help me, he is stunningly good-looking, and the smitten look on Mullins’s face tells me that she’s definitely noticed too.
I suck in my cheeks, trying not to laugh when she starts twirling the end of her long, black ponytail between her fingers. Her chest perks up and her butt pokes out. My best friend’s got it going on—average height, with a tiny waist and curvy in all the right places. She gets her large pouty lips from the Latin genes on her momma’s side. When she bats her long, thick lashes at him, I can’t contain the smirk that tugs at my lips.
She is pulling out all the big guns.
“We just arrived tonight and wanted to have a look around. Where is everyone? Our tent’s practically empty,” she asks. “You guys work in the clinic?” Mullins’s tone is embarrassingly hopeful.
“Nah, we just dropped off some supplies. You must be the new medics,” he says, rubbing his hand over the light stubble on his jaw. “I’m Sergeant Briggs. And those two”—he hikes his thumb over his shoulder—“are my buddies, Specialist Jones, and Sergeant Morrero. Your new roommates are probably hanging out in the rec-tent.”
“Corporal Mullins,” she returns, placing her hand in his. “And this is Staff Sergeant Scott.”
“Nice to meet you, Scottie,” Briggs says, reaching for my hand.
My eyes roll as I correct him. “It’s just Scott.”
The corners of his mouth curl up into another megawatt smile, and he winks. That lone dimple makes another appearance. “I heard.” His response is accompanied by a devilish smirk.
Oh Lord.
Again, I feel my eyes rolling. He’s a walking stereotype. From the stories I’ve heard back home, the feel on foreign bases is purely civilian, and the sexcapades mirror those of the Olympic Village. It’s like a desert orgy, mostly for the younger and more cavalier unattached soldiers.
I’ve been married so long that I have little tolerance for these types and their shameless flirting. There was a time that I’d have enjoyed it…before Gavin. Every girl likes her ego stroked now and then. Once Gavin and I became a thing, the guys on base all backed off, respecting our relationship. But, these three don’t have any loyalty to my husband.
Already I’m starting to feel out of place. Turning, I find Mullins has introduced herself and is deep in conversation with the other two guys. That leaves me to entertain Sergeant Flirts-a-lot.
Brilliant.
“So…what’s your MOS?” I ask, in a feeble attempt at conversation.
“Good old 11B,” he beams. He says it with such pride.
“Infantry?” Adrenaline junkie.
“I like to be the first pretty face those ugly bastards see.” The way his entire face lights up with his smile tells me that he genuinely loves what he does, and I have to respect him for that.
Maybe I judged him too soon.
This isn’t just a job, or a means to a free education for him. He’s here because he wants to be, and his excitement is infectious.
I can’t help but return his smile as I take in his smug demeanor.
“So…you’re a grunt,” I tease, crossing my arms on my chest.
Briggs laughs at my jibe.
Am I imagining the thirst in those amber eyes?
“Yeah,” he says as he slides his bottom lip through his teeth. “A grunt.”
“Hey, someone’s gotta catch those bullets,” I jest, but I cringe as soon as the words leave my mouth. I really shouldn’t be allowed out in public. A freaking war zone is not the place to make jokes about being shot. “I didn’t mean to say that. I, uh…well, I hope you don’t catch any…bullets.” My ears radiate heat, and nausea churns in my belly.
“Are you blushing? That’s adorable, Scottie.”
“It’s just Scott. No i-e.”
“So you’ve said,” he drawls, his eyes perusing me slowly. I definitely wasn’t imagining it. “And don’t worry about it. I’m gonna do my best not to catch any just so you won’t have to feel bad for that insensitive remark.” He winks one of those warm-honey eyes at me again. Those things could be considered a weapon. I am growing increasingly uncomfortable.
My face warms as I clear my throat. “I’m sorry. That was really inappropriate. I blame my lack of social skills on spending all of my free time with a six-year-old.”
There. Maybe the mention of Noah will throw him off my scent.
“You have a kid?” His mouth falls open, his eyes widening in surprise. Most people have a similar reaction. There aren’t a lot of mothers at war. The majority of us have enough sense not to re-enlist. Present company excluded, of course.
“Yeah,” I smile, wistfully. “Noah.” My heart lurches just mentioning his name.
“That’s cool. Must’ve been hard to leave him,” he offers with a frown. “But I’m sure he’s really proud of his momma.”
“I don’t know about proud,” I scoff. “He’s pretty pissed right now. But I hope one day he’ll understand and yeah… maybe even be a little proud.”
“He’s proud of you, Scott,” Mullins chimes in, obviously keeping an ear on our conversation. “He’s just missing you is all.” She reaches out, giving my arm a gentle squeeze as she pulls me over to her side to introduce me to her new conquests. “This is my friend Staff Sergeant Scott,” she announces, her hand clamping down on my shoulder. “And these fine specimens here are Sergeant Morrero and Specialist Jones.”
“Nice to meet you, Scott,” Jones says, holding out his hand. “Mullins here tells me you have a son?”
I nod, swallowing a ball of emotion. “He’s six.”
“My boy’s four, and his baby sister will be one in a few weeks.” He must notice the sheen in my eyes that I’m desperately trying to hide, because he adds, “It gets easier.”
Jones is only a few inches taller than my five feet six inches. His skin is pasty white, and his hair is fireball red. He has hundreds, maybe even thousands, of light brown freckles covering every inch of his face and arms. His smile fills my heart with warmth. He understands exactly what I’m going through.