Meagan's Marine (Halos & Horns) (11 page)

He crossed his arms, amazed at her
ability to insult him so easily. “Yes, actually. Sarah trusted me to watch both
of her daughters at the same time. And one of ‘
em
even dumped on me.” An involuntary shiver passed over him as he fought back a
gag at the memory. “God, that was surprisingly awful.”

Meagan waved her hand, dramatically. “I
rest my case. One poopy diaper and he’s scarred for life.”

Mitch raised a defiant finger. “That was
no ordinary poop. It was
nasty
. I’m talking poop all up her back and
down both legs.” He shivered, still revolted at the memory. “It was all over…
everything
.
But, I managed.”

“Put her straight in the tub?”
Niki
asked, snorting with laughter.

“Nope, took her outside and blasted her
with the water hose.” He balked at Meagan’s look of horror. “What? It was a
warm day and she loved it. Besides, by the time I got her out there, I needed a
little hosing down myself. I was covered in crap…literally.”

Mitch leveled his gaze on Meagan. “I’m
assuming I won’t run into that situation with Buck.”

“No, he’s been potty trained for two
years.” She seemed to consider his offer before giving him a brief nod. “All
right, if you’re sure you can handle it, you can watch him. Hopefully, I won’t
be gone over a couple of hours.”

****

Meagan hung her keys on the pegboard and
draped her purse over the nearest chair back before heading to the fridge for
water. After several thirst quenching gulps, Buck’s excited shouts and
Mitchell’s deep laughter, both coming from the back yard, caught her attention.
She leaned over the sink just in time to catch a flash of red and yellow jet in
front of the kitchen window. She refilled her glass and brought it along as she
made her way to the smallish, fenced-in back yard.

“What’s going on out here?”

Buck gave his mother a jubilant grin.
“Mom! We’re flying a
aiwo
-plane! Mitch bought it and
he says I’m a good pilot.”

“Are you?” She clapped her hands and
leaned over to give him a kiss on his cheek. “I don’t doubt it for a second,
Buckaroo. Your great grandpa became an airplane pilot when he was a young man.”

Buck cocked his head curiously. “I have
a
gweat
gwanpa
?”

She nodded. “He passed away a long time
ago, but he used to tell me stories when I was little. He was in a war we
called World War II.”

Buck’s mouth dropped open in awe as he
stared at her with huge round eyes. “My
gweat
gwanpa
flew
aiwo
-planes?”

She slipped her hands in her back
pockets and stared down at the one thing she’d done right in this world. “He
sure did. I’ve seen pictures of him in his plane. He painted my grandma’s name
on it—Diana Rose—with a yellow rose beside it. My Paw
Paw
said it brought him good luck because he flew the same plane for a whole two
years and never got shot down.”

Buck’s face lit up as he contemplated
her words. “I’m
gonna
fly a plane, too,” he said, his
tone seriously even and calm before running off, hands out and ‘flying’ around
the yard.

She stared after him, still somewhat
dazed at the frankness of her son’s statement. “I bet you will, Buckaroo.” It
took a couple of repetitions before she realized Mitch had spoken to her. She
turned to see him staring down at her. “What did you say?”

“I asked how long he’d flown…your
grandfather, that is.”

“Oh, he flew well into his seventies, so
over fifty years. He became a crop duster once he made it home. He did that for
about thirty years until he finally retired from flying full-time and just ran
the business. But he still flew for the enjoyment of it.”

“Did your dad follow in his footsteps?
Or was he your maternal grandfather?”

“He was my mom’s father, and no, there
weren’t too many women pilots back then. Of the two of my parents, mom probably
could have flown. My dad was always terrified of heights. I’ve always
wondered,” she said, somewhat wistfully.

“Wondered what?”

“How she’d have turned out if she hadn’t
been held back by the standards of the day. My mom is a very intelligent woman.
I believe she could have done anything she wanted to do, if only she’d been
allowed…
encouraged
to spread her wings and…”

“Fly?” Mitch finished for her.

She chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“What’s she like, Megs? You never talk
about her, or either of your parents.” He sat on the long wooden bench at one
side of the tiny patio and patted the seat next to him.

She settled in beside him and shrugged.
“She’s mom—always very sober and serious. Or she was when I was there. I care
barely picture her with a smile on her face, much less laughing. She saved that
for rare occasions, like when they had some of their church friends over.”

“How about your dad?”

Meagan snorted with disgust. “God, he
was even worse. Stern, unyielding, unforgiving…and oh, so full of holier-than-thou-self-righteousness.
I’m sure he believes he’ll be seated at the right hand of God when he goes.”

Laughter rumbled from deep in Mitchell’s
chest. “Um…I think that seat’s already taken.”

She shot him a humorous look and winked.
“But won’t dad be surprised when
he
figures it out? It almost makes me
wish I could be there to see that. But, according to him, we won’t be in the
same place.”

Mitch placed a comforting hand on her
shoulder. “I’m sure he’s right about that, but not for the same reasons. He’s
one of those people who
thinks
he’s on the right track, but won’t find
out until it’s too late that there is only one judge…and he ain’t it.”

“Judge not, lest
thee
be judged,” she whispered.

“You got that right.”

She watched Buck. “You know, for years I
had this weird feeling about the two of them. To me, Mom acted as though my
father held something over her head. Like he used it to keep her in line.”

Mitchell cocked his head to one side.
“You think you’ll ever find out?” 

“I can’t be certain of course, but I’m
doubtful.” She looked at her watch, grimacing at the amount of her day already
gone. “Buck and I have some shopping to do before I leave for work tonight,
Mitch.”

He stood, arching his long back with a
low groan. “I can take a hint. I’m going.” He headed toward Buck and offered
his hand. “See you later Buck, my man. Mom’s chasing me off for the rest of the
day so you can go shopping.”

Buck’s face crumpled in disappointment.
“Oh man, I don’t want to go shopping! That’s girl stuff.”

Meagan lifted one brow at her son.
“Really? Here I thought you were looking forward to picking out your own
Halloween costume this year. At least that’s what you told me yesterday, and
every day for the past week. But if you don’t want to go...” She laughed as
Buck’s entire face lit up. “That’s what I thought. Now thank Mr. Mitch for
watching you.”

The boy turned a sheepish look toward
Mitch. “Bye Mitch, and thanks for
bwinging
the
aiwo
-plane to play with me.” He gave it one last adoring
look before offering it back to Mitch.

“I’ll tell you what, Buckaroo. If you
promise not to fly this without your co-pilot…that’s me…I’ll leave it here with
you. You have to take excellent care of it. Keep it safe in the hangar, okay?”

Buck’s eyes grew large and quizzical. “I
gotta
put it on a hanger?”

Meagan smothered a laugh while Mitch
came up with a suitable answer.

“Just keep it in the box, Buck. That’ll
be good enough.”

The child gave him a jubilant nod before
running inside with the plane.

Meagan stood up, adjusting the bandage
on her arm. “Thanks for watching him for me.”

“It’s been my pleasure, Megs. I guess
I’ll see you tonight at the club?”

Just for a second his statement threw
her off.

“I’m on schedule to work, too,” he
added.

“Oh! I guess I’m still trying to get
used to that,” she said, feeling somewhat flustered as heat infused her face.
She glanced up into his laughing eyes, knowing he enjoyed every second of her
discomfort. “Oh, just shut up for once, Marine…and goodbye!”

“Later, Megs.”

“And quit calling me that!” she called
out to his broad, straight back and tight, jean-covered ass.

He turned at the gate, his voice a low,
sexy growl. “Quit staring at my ass and I’ll think about it.”

chapter
15

Big
Needles and Bigger Promises

Meagan finished her third glass of water
for the night and dabbed discreetly at her mouth. She tried, unsuccessfully, to
stifle yet another yawn, frowning as she caught Mitchell’s scrutinizing gaze on
her. She turned away to hand a customer two frosty bottles of beer. Before she
could recover, Mitch was whispering in her ear, low and disapproving, but still
managing to raise the hair on the back of her neck in anticipation.

“Every time you donate plasma, you can
barely keep your eyes opened during work. I know your school work must be
suffering also.”

“I’m fine, and I have a 3.98 GPA, thank
you very much.”

“You’re not fine. I’ve been watching,
you know,” he growled.

“No kidding? I had no idea!” She
couldn’t suppress the sarcasm in her comeback.

“It’s not necessary, Megs. You have a
responsibility to keep your strength up for Buck.”

She rounded on him, cutting off his
reply. “Don’t you
dare
talk to me about responsibilities,” she hissed.
“I know full well what my responsibilities are. Like keeping my child clothed,
fed properly, keeping a roof over his head and decent tires on the vehicle I
have to drive him around in.”

“All I’m saying is, I want to help.”

“I don’t
need
your help. I don’t
want
your help. Why can’t you understand that?”

****

God, but the woman was stubborn! Usually
he bordered somewhere between anger and admiration for her hard-headed
tenacity. Tonight, seeing her fight off her exhaustion, his anger, fuelled by
concern for her, had the definite advantage.

He got nose to nose with her, determined
to make her see his point. “And why can’t you understand that I don’t want to
see you collapsing from weakness or dehydration on top of everything else? No
friend would want to see that. It’s called concern, Meagan. I know you aren’t a
charity case, but everyone can use a helping hand now and then. Let me give you
what you’d be making in plasma donations.”

Her face grew pensive, as she seemed to
consider his offer. Finally she spoke, her voice containing a hint of mischief.

“You really want to help me that bad?”

He nodded, praying he’d found a chink in
her armor. “I certainly do.”

“Meet me at my place Tuesday morning at
7:30 a.m.” She lifted her hand to stop him from asking questions. “That’s it,
Marine. If you don’t show up, I don’t ever want to hear another word about
this. I’m serious!”

He nodded. “I’ll be there.”

****

Accustomed to early rising and little
sleep, Mitch waited in his truck for fifteen minutes before giving her front
door a few tentative raps on Tuesday morning.

She pulled it open quickly, greeting him
with a severity he didn’t know she possessed.

“I’ll allow you to help me
financially
under one condition.”

He reached out, palms up and breathed a
sigh of relief. “Finally! What’s the condition? I’m game, no matter what it
is.”

“That’s good to know.” Her mouth curled
in a twisted grin. “I’ll accept money from you only if you’ve earned it
donating plasma.”

His hands lifted in protest. “Hold it! I
don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“I’m sure you did. You come with me,
list me as a referral so I can get extra money, donate, and I’ll accept
whatever you’re paid, if you still want me to.”

He pondered her resolution, thinking he
was surely creative enough to find a way out of it before it happened. No way
would he actually allow strangers to shove large needles up his arms to drain
the fluids out of him. “All right. You’ve got a deal.”

She nodded and adjusted her purse strap.
“Good, are you ready to go? I hope you ate a good sized breakfast.”

Mitch swallowed the lump that suddenly formed
in his throat. “You mean, right now?”

“Sure. You can ride over there with me.
It’ll take longer your first time but I’m willing to wait.”

He paused, studying the look on her
face. “You don’t think I’ll do it, do you?”

She shrugged lightly. “Not everybody can
take needles, Mitch.”

“I’m a Marine, Megs. I laugh in the face
of adversity.”
Son of a bitch, he hated
MoFo
needles.

She chuckled. “All I’m saying is that
I’ve seen bigger men than you brought to their knees.”

Her condescending tone gave him a steel
resolve. He gave his head a brief shake. “And I’m about to show you that
there’s a big difference between a man and a Marine, Megs. Let’s go.”

****

“Oh man.” Mitchell gulped when he saw
the size of the needle.

“Second thoughts?”

Meagan’s voice, jovial and teasing, came
to him from the cot on his immediate right. He turned to her, determined to
banish the amusedly smug look from her face. “Hell, no. I’ve waited two hours
and I’m not leaving here without seeing this thing through.”

The technician,
Shonda
,
grinned as she leaned over his arm with the larger than normal needle. “Small
stick…”

Mitch tensed, hissing lowly through his
clamped jaw.

“All right, it’s over,” she said.

He’d just forced himself to take a
relaxing breath when Meagan’s voice reached him again.

“You can open your eyes now, Mr. Big Bad
Marine.”

He cracked open one eye, and the other,
only then realizing they’d both been squeezed shut. “Piece of cake,” he
whispered, releasing a slow breath as
Shonda
got him
taped up and flowing.

“When the blood pressure cuff is tight
on your arm, pump your hand quickly. When it stops, quit pumping your hand and
rest it. It usually takes forty-five minutes to an hour to complete the cycle.”

Mitch stared hard at the clear plastic
tubing, now tinted a dark red from his own blood beginning the first loop from
his body. He turned his head away from the sight, swallowing the taste of fresh
bile rising in his throat. “I can do this.”

“What was that?”

He caught Meagan giving him a curious
gaze. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Because you have to let
them know if you start to feel like you’re going to—”

“I’m fine!” Before he could apologize
for his sharp tone, he caught the twinkle of amusement in her eyes. A long,
slow growl accompanied his release of breath. He settled back on his cot,
forcing himself to relax and do this thing. He concentrated on the wall-hung
flat screen playing a
Bones
rerun and he concentrated on getting into
the storyline. It seemed to work, because before he knew it, he’d filled his
plastic container with the yellowish liquid and the tech was wrapping his arm
with a stretchy bandage.

“Drink lots of water to rehydrate…stay
away from caffeine and take it easy for the next few hours. And here’s your PIN
to collect. The ATM is in that booth. If you have any problems at all, don’t
hesitate to call us. You have to wait forty-eight hours to donate again and you
can’t donate more than twice in seven days.”

After collecting his $45 bucks from the
ATM, he walked to the front where Meagan sat, patiently waiting for him. She
popped up from her chair and approached.

“You’re not feeling faint, are you,
Marine?” The edges of her mouth turned up in a faint smirk.

“Of course not,” he lied, making a
mental note to eat a larger meal before making his next donation…like there’d
be
another donation. After all, she wouldn’t know if he actually donated or not,
would she?

“I normally try to get here early on
Tuesdays and Thursdays because
Niki’s
home those
mornings to watch Buck. You can put your name right below mine.”

“I don’t think that’s a great time for
me, Megs. I’ll just find another time slot.” He began flipping through pages,
looking for a section where her name was nowhere to be found, when her voice
came to him, soft and lyrical, but filled with unmistakable challenge.

“However, I will only accept money from
the donations scheduled the same time as mine.” She retreated a few spaces as
he leveled a hard gaze on her. “Just saying.”

Mitch turned away, trying hard not to
curse under his breath. He flipped through the book until he found her name in
the 8:00 a.m. Thursday spot. He placed his sticker just under hers and turned
to her. “Let’s go eat. I’m buying.” He stuck his finger in her face as she
started to protest. “If you know what’s good for you, you won’t say another
word!”

****

Mitchell washed down the last bite of
his burger with a gulp of sweet tea. He stretched his back in the red padded
booth across the table from Meagan. Leaning to one side, he pulled three folded
bills, two twenties and a five, from the front pocket of his jeans and held
them out to her. “Will this give you enough to buy the last two tires for your
car?”

She pulled them from his fingertips and
stuffed them into her wallet. “Oh, I had those put on yesterday.”

“Uh…then why the hell are you still
doing this?”

“Savings account,” she said. “I told you
a year’s worth of donations comes out to almost $2,500.00. That’s a tidy little
sum for emergency situations. For the sake of my son, I can’t afford to turn my
nose up at that that kind of money. Besides, I like the idea that I’m helping.
I’d like to think that, even if I didn’t need the money, I’d still give just
for the sake of improving someone’s life.”  

He nodded. “Very noble of you, but
remember that amount of money will be doubled from my own donations.” He
strained to hear something she mumbled just under her breath. “Sorry, I didn’t
quite catch that.”

“Nothing.” She pursed her lips.

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“I’m not leaving until you do.”

“I drove here so I can leave anytime I
want to.” She gathered her purse and got up to leave.

Mitch deposited their trash in the
receptacle and pushed the door open for her, deciding it would be best to stick
close. He slipped into the front seat beside her.

“If you don’t tell me what you said
under your breath I’m going to stay at your house all afternoon.”

“Good. Buck will keep you busy enough so
that I can get some studying done.”

“I will never stop bothering you about it.
I’ll ask DJ Silver to announce the question tonight at the club and you’ll
never get a minute’s peace because then everyone will be asking you.”

She stared at him for a second before
pulling her attention back to her driving. “You’d do that too, wouldn’t you?”

“Damn straight I would.”

She gave him a final nod. “Okay, Curious
George, word for word, what I said was, ‘You won’t be around that long’.” His
silence must have made her think he needed help putting the words into the
right context. “You know, you said something about your donation money being
added to mi—”

“—I know what I said. And I know what
you meant.” He turned to stare at her profile. “But you’re wrong.”

“
Pfft
! I don’t
think so, Marine.”

“Oh I know so. As a matter of fact, you
have never been so wrong in your entire life.” A benefit of being a passenger
was that he could stare at her profile the entire drive home. He’d take that
trade-off any day. Nothing wrong with having a beautiful lady chauffeur him
around. He watched the slow rise of blush as it pinked her skin from the base
of her collarbone all the way to the tops of cheekbones, and even farther than
that. He grinned, wondering how he’d never noticed before how red her ears
turned when she blushed. Maybe he hadn’t made her blush before. His mind rolled
into overdrive, thinking of all the ways he’d like to make it happen…over and
over again.

Mitchell’s chest rumbled with laughter
as his silent meanderings succeeded in making her steal a single, quick,
uncomfortable glance in his direction. “What’s so darn funny?”

“You are, Megs. For thinking you’ll ever
be rid of me.”