The Daddy Salute

He grinned at her and glanced at his friend. “Well, Jack, do the marines wait around to be asked or do we go where angels fear to tread?”

“Ooh-rah!” the other man said in a hoarse grunt.

“Oh, brother…”

“From the Halls of Montezuma…” Brian intoned in a deep, steely voice.

“…to the shores of Evans Avenue,” Jack finished for him as they both straightened up.

“Come on, you guys,” she said loudly, but they were already moving toward the back of her car. Kathy slapped her forehead against the steering wheel once, muttered a curse she hoped her car understood, then hopped out to keep an eye on the cavalry.

They had the little hood open by the time she got there. With their backs to her, she had quite a view of what looked like miles of tanned, muscled flesh. If nothing else, she had to give it to the corps. When they advertised “building men,” they weren’t kidding.

“So,” Jack asked, “what do you think the problem is?”

“Nothing a good round of mortar fire couldn’t fix.”

“A mortar?” Kathy repeated, leaning over them, trying to keep an eye on what they were doing.

Brian glanced at her over his shoulder and explained. “It’s a gun. A really big gun.”

“Very funny,” she retorted.

“Who’s kidding?” he asked on a snort of laughter. “This thing’s on its last legs.”

“VWs can go forever,” she said.

“And this one obviously has.” He shook his head, reached past a cluster of greasy wires to the shadowy interior of the engine and pushed and poked around for a minute or two. “Still,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else, “never let it be said that a marine couldn’t get a machine to run.”

“Oh, perish the thought,” she muttered. Kathy thought she heard Jack chuckle, but she couldn’t be sure. A moment later, Brian stood up abruptly and almost knocked her over. He reached for her automatically to steady her, and where their hands touched, she felt a blast of white-hot heat that nearly swamped her.

He let her go instantly and took a step back, as if he’d experienced that strange sensation, too, and wasn’t sure what to do about it. Heck, Kathy knew what she was going to do. Ignore it.

“Okay,” Brian said, as Jack stood up. “Kathy, get in the driver’s seat, and when I tell you, try to start it.”

“Fine,” she said, knowing it was pointless to try to reason with a man who was attempting to outsmart a car. Besides, it would get her out of his immediate presence and put a nice, solid car door between them.

Once she was settled, she pushed the clutch in, grasped the key and waited for the signal. That’s when she heard it—a stream of harsh, guttural sounds pouring out of Brian Haley’s mouth. He shouted, he snarled and he did it all in a language she’d never heard before, though she suspected its origins.

Then he called out, “Okay, try it now!”

She did, whispering a little prayer as she turned the key. Instantly good old Charlie fired up, his throaty roar splintering the otherwise quiet of the afternoon.

Both men strolled up to the driver’s side window, and Kathy turned to look up at them.

“Outstanding,” Jack said.

“Consider yourself rescued,” Brian told her.

Okay, so she hadn’t wanted their help. She hadn’t wanted to be indebted to Sergeant Smile. But it had turned out all right. The least she could do was be gracious. Looking right at him, she squinted into the sunlight and said, “Thanks.”

One brown eyebrow lifted, and he nodded his head briefly. “You’re welcome.”

Then, because she couldn’t stand not knowing, she heard herself ask, “Were you speaking in German a minute ago?”

That grin of his widened, and she had to take a firm grip on her blood pressure.

Shrugging, he said, “I was stationed in Germany a few years ago. Learned enough curse words to give any German car a taste of home and shock it into doing what it’s supposed to do.”

“Why am I not surprised?” she wondered aloud.

“Lady,” Brian said as he leaned one hand on the roof of her car and lowered his head to within inches of hers, “as you get to know me, you’ll find I’m just one surprise after another.”

Kathy smiled sweetly at him and said, “I don’t like surprises, Sergeant.”

“Gunnery Sergeant.”

“Whatever.” Then she shoved the car into first, gunned the motor and took off, letting the gunnery sergeant scramble to find his footing.

As the VW coughed and snarled its way down the street, Brian shook his head slowly. “That woman is really starting to get to me.”

“Yeah?” Jack said and slapped him on the back. “From where I’m standing, it looks like Hands-on Haley is striking out.”

Brian shot him a look and grinned. “Jack, my man, I’m just comin’ up to bat.”

“Not a chance. That was a clean swing and a miss. I call that strike one.” Laughing, he started back toward the driveway to finish their interrupted basketball game.

Brian stared in the direction the VW had gone, long after it had disappeared from sight. Strike one, huh? Well, he had two more coming to him. And he’d never been a man to give up easily.

“Hi, neighbor.”

Caught. Kathy stopped short at the sound of that deep, rumbling voice. She’d hoped to get into her apartment without seeing him again today. But apparently the man had some sort of radar where women were concerned. She took a long, steadying breath before turning around to face the man standing behind her.

It didn’t help.

As always, her pulse skittered and her heart pounded against her rib cage. Her palms went damp and her mouth went dry.

Brian Haley, six foot two inches of solid muscle and practiced charm stood in the open doorway of his apartment and smiled down at her. And it was truly an amazing smile. Kathy was forced to remind herself, again, that she wasn’t interested.

Unfortunately, that fact was getting harder and harder to remember.

“Been shopping?” he asked, leaning against the doorjamb and folding his arms across his broad chest, now covered in a red T-shirt emblazoned with the U.S. Marine Corps emblem.

She flipped her hair back out of her face, forced a smile and said, “Boy, nothing gets past you, does it?” Then she hitched the twin grocery sacks in her arms a bit higher.

His grin only widened at the sarcasm. Reaching for the bags, he cradled them both in one brawny arm and said, “Marines are trained observers.”

“Lucky me,” she said, and took a moment to stick her key in the lock and turn it. Then she made a grab for her grocery bags. “Thanks for the help, but I’ll take them from here.”