Make Mine A Marine

“No. I’m happy for her.” She worried that bottom lip again. He had an urge to run his thumb across it.

What is wrong with me? The woman was having a difficult day. The last thing she needed was being ogled by him. “I’m not the best judge of emotions, but I’m pretty sure that’s not a happy face.” He pointed to her.

That made her smile, slightly. “Really, I am happy for her. She’s loved this guy for a long time. He surprised her with a trip to Vegas last night. They were married at a drive-through chapel.”

“That might not be the most romantic place to get married, but if you’re happy for her, what’s the problem?”

She rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. He had an urge to brush her hair from her cheek and tell her everything was going to be okay, even though he had no idea what was going on.

“I drove here from Nashville to be her roommate. I was supposed to move in today.”

Realization dawned.

The roommate had filled the position with a new husband.

“So you’re—”

“Homeless.”

2 (#ulink_436b090e-b5e5-5331-8c94-cf476c4573d1)

CHELLY TRIED TO keep a positive attitude through the downs of life, but the last month had about done her in. Between the stalker ex and everything she’d gone through emotionally and financially, she was on the slow train to oblivion. Those dark places she tried not to dwell in were closing in on her.

“That’s rough.” The Marine leaned in her window. He gave her a look of pity. She hated that.

“I’ve been through worse. I’ll be fine.” And she would. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been in bad situations before now. There was that time in Turkey when she’d nearly been thrown in jail, and in Mumbai when she had that bug that laid her up for three days in some stranger’s house.

She sat up a little straighter and took a deep breath.

He nodded. “Strong. That’s a good character trait. But you look like you could use a break, and to be honest, I’d like to get away from the house for a bit. Do you have a swimsuit in that luggage of yours?” He nodded at the trash bags, aka all her worldly belongings in the back of her truck.

Where was he going with this?

Her thoughts must have shown on her face because he chuckled. “I’m not sure what you’re imagining, but I was going to grab some dinner and head out to my favorite place to clear my head. You’re welcome to join me, unless you have better plans?”

He had her there. “Are you a serial killer?”

He frowned. “No. Uh, I’m not.”

Shoot. She’d done it again. “Are you sure you want to hang out with me? I have a tendency to say the wrong thing all the time.”

“Well,” he said, a slow smile gracing his mouth, “I think I can handle it for the next few hours. Why don’t you pull around back and we can park your truck in one of the garages. That way your stuff will be safe. Get what you need and I’ll meet you there. Go down the street and turn into the alley.”

She should tell him no and move on, but he was right. She had nowhere else to go, and she did need a break. Dinner with Hot Guy was not the worst option. “Okay.”

His smile actually made her heart beat a little faster.

No! No more men.

A few minutes later, she had her change of clothes, a bikini and her flip-flops and was waiting by the two-story garage. The building was almost as long as the house, and it looked like there was an apartment on top. His parents must have had a great deal of money. This place was at least two and half acres in the middle of one of the nicest neighborhoods in town.

At least from what she’d seen so far.

When Lila had said she could move in, Chelly had looked up Corpus Christi and saw there was a beach. That was all she cared about, being near the water. She’d been tired of being landlocked in Nashville. Just one more reason to move.

The grime from having driven for so long was now starting to get to her. She couldn’t wait to hit the waves.

The garage door opened and she saw Matt standing there in board shorts and a clean white tank shirt. Those arm muscles were a powerful aphrodisiac.

Hey, that’s the last thing you need! No guys—it was the number-one rule she’d made in the first hour of her road trip. Ever. Well, at least not until she had her business in a good place and her life straightened out.

“You can park in this bay, but let me move my bike first.” He rolled out a black motorcycle. It was big and powerful-looking, just like him. A sexy Marine on a motorcycle.

No! Just say no.

She gave him a quick grin as she pulled into the garage. That was when she realized what he meant about his mother’s collection. There was a new Ford truck in the next bay, but the rest of the garage was filled with antiques.

“Heaven,” she whispered.

He laughed as he opened her door to help her out. “Maybe to you. To me, it’s nothing but a headache. I have no idea what’s expensive or not. I mean, I can tell from some of the wood—walnut and maple—that it’s worth something, but I don’t know what year anything was made or the value of it.”

From where she stood, she saw a wardrobe from the eighteen hundreds and, if she wasn’t mistaken, the buffet was from the same period. “Do me a favor, when you decide to sell all of this, call me first? This is a gold mine. These things should be in an air-conditioned space. The heat and moisture will play havoc with the wood.”

He winced. “I collected it all in here so I could sort through it. I didn’t know.”

“How long ago was that?”

“About a month,” he told her.

Not too bad. “Should be fine for now. But you need to make sure none of it gets wet or it’ll warp. It’s warm and humid, but if it the temperature goes higher, you might want to think about moving the stuff back indoors, until you sell it. I can help you, though, at least, figure out what you should get for the really good pieces. You won’t get retail prices, but there are five or six premium items in here.”

He made a face and grunted. “You serious?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Huh. Okay. I’ll have to take you up on that because I’ve got a lot of renovations to do.” He pointed at the bike. “We better get on the road if we’re going to be at my favorite spot in time.”

She wondered in time for what, but she figured he wanted to surprise her. After closing the garage door from a keypad, he passed her a helmet. She pulled it over her curls and then he helped strap it around her chin.

He climbed on the bike.

She eyed him warily. Not that she minded putting her arms around the hunk, but they had just met.

“I hope this is okay. It’s easier to use the bike rather than the truck to get where we’re going.”

She happened to like bikes and she didn’t want to insult the guy who had done her a favor and fixed her truck. “Works for me.”

He sat down on the massive seat. The sign on the side of the dark blue bike said Harley. She had some regulars at the diner where she’d worked who rode them. The chrome bike was a piece of art. It was customized with some slogans, Semper Fi she recognized, and a symbol she wanted to look up later.