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  ***

  Her Marine Daddy

  By

  Lee Savino

  *

  Chapter 1

  The legal papers sat on my car's front seat, and as much as I tried to ignore them, they wouldn't go away.

  Only twenty-eight and divorced. How sad is that? my brain commented, and I had to agree. The one thing I'd thought I'd done right in my life—marry my high school sweetheart—had come to a bitter end.

  Deep in self-pity, I tossed the papers into the back seat of my car and headed inside my favorite local coffee shop. I almost wished I'd just gone through a chain with a drive through, instead of The Bean Counter, but with a name like that, they had my loyalty forever.

  My head was in such a state that I tripped over the cute sandals I'd dug out of the back of my closet in honor of the beautiful spring day. The toe caught the curb and I almost went down, flailing like a fool on the sidewalk.

  "Dammit," I muttered, then glanced around nervously to see if anyone had heard me. My nan always told me I had no filter, just said the first thing that popped into my mouth.

  "Stubborn, too," my gramps would always add.

  My gramps had tried to warn me, I realized as approached the The Bean Counter. He'd told me Chad was no good, we'd butted heads over it, and in the end I'd walked out on him and Nan, and eloped with Chad at twenty.

  Eight years later, I had divorce papers and a broken heart. The thing I regretted most was that Gramps had died before he could say, 'I told you so.'

  I pushed the shop door a little too hard and to my horror it swung out and hit a man standing in line at the counter. It wasn't totally my fault, the shop was small, and the waiting man had shoulders and biceps roughly the size of Alaska.

  He turned to see who'd hit him, his mirrored shades angling to me, and the sight of this hunky hulk, six foot amazing and one hundred percent muscle, sent the thoughts of my ex clean out of my head.

  Wow, my brain said, adding, Don't do anything stupid.

  I shot the man a winning smile, and the corner of his mouth turned up in return. My brain was still crowing a point for me when my sandal, sticking to its course of sabotage, decided to trip me again.

  Of course the hunky hulk caught me, and I got a close up of his awesome, bulging muscles under beautiful tattoos.

  "Oh, my god," I breathed. "Your muscles have muscles."

  My brain gasped in horror.

  The wrinkles around the mirrored shades crinkled.

  Dork, my brain hissed. To my horror, my mouth kept talking.

  "I mean, you look like you could pick up my car and throw it. I can barely get down to the gym."

  Shut up, shut up. My face turned bright red under the perusal of mirrored shades.

  My coffee shop savior set me on my feet, one large hand at the small of my back to steady me. The sunglasses swept up and down and I froze, knowing he was checking me out.

  Hunky hulk grinned. My knees went weak and I almost started drooling. Not to mention the state of my panties… I mentally added laundry to the list of things to do today.

  He turned to the barista. "Whatever she wants, I'm buying." Muscles stepped aside and the barista, who also looked a little dazed at the spectacular sight of her customer, transferred a wide-eyed gaze to me.

  My tongue chose that moment to trip over itself.

  "Go ahead, order something," the hunk commanded softly, his voice deep and gentle at the same time.

  He flashed that white, panty-dropping smile.

  My brain stopped scolding me and swooned. Luckily, I'd ordered the same drink for fifteen years. I turned and parroted it to the barista, who looked like she'd just fallen in lust. Both hers and my cheeks were pink.

  His hand still hovering on my back, Mr. Muscles added his order, dropped a bill on the counter, and escorted me to the side to wait for our drinks.

  The barista called after him, asking if he wanted change, and he shook his head with a smile. Her cheeks flushed further and she tucked a coy strand of hair behind her ear.

  For a second my heart sank. Barista girl was tall and thin and looked like the sort of girl who'd flirt with a muscled stud muffin like this. But then the hunky hulk transferred his gaze to me.

  Chiseled jaw, full lips and a slight smile: my body did the math and the tally was yummy.

  Please don't let me say anything stupid.

  "You didn't have to do that," I told him.

  "I know," he said in that deep purr. "I wanted to."

  He kept his hand at my back, no longer touching me but close enough for me to feel its warmth, as if I might fall over at any time. Which I might, and not just because of my stupid sandals. Maybe he was just used to women swooning with lust thirty seconds after they'd met him, but his protective stance reminded me of the way my gramps used to escort my nan around, treating her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

  "Um, so I would tell you that I don't always say the first thing that pops into my head, but I do, all the time. My nan says I have two ears and one mouth to listen twice and speak once."

  The slight smile deepened to a grin. "Worked out for you today."

  "I'm having a rough week," I confessed. "I'm just got served the papers for my divorce after a year's separation." My brain cringed, but Muscles didn't seem put off by the mention of my ex.

  He cocked his head. "Sorry to hear that."

  "Don't be. I'm trying to tell myself it's a good thing. He…" cheated on me for years, emotionally and verbally abused me, lied behind my back… "needed to go."

  Shut up, Cassie, shut up. Just stop talking.

  "Then I'm glad he's gone." The rumble in his voice turned dark.

  I searched for a witty and charming way to change the subject from my pathetic life, and noticed a tattoo just under his sleeve.

  "That's a cute dog," I said, then silently cursed myself. Under the script 'Devil Dog' was a growling bulldog with a cigar in its mouth. The exact opposite of cute. "Well, maybe cute isn't the right word."

  My brain gave up trying to get me to shut up and decided I should just move to Alaska.

  Muscles grinned down at me like I was the cutest thing he'd ever seen. It was an amazing sight, this big, rough man with a little crinkle at the side of his mouth and eyes, total attention on me.

  It was a little off-putting.

  "Sorry," I gasped, a little out of breath. "I really shouldn't talk in the morning before I've had coffee."

  "You're all right, babygirl."

  A happy feeling curled through me at his gentle rumble. I glanced at the tattoo again and noticed the scrawl underneath: 'USMC'.

  "The Marines! My gramps was a Marine. Now I know where you got all those muscles." The way he held himself looked familiar, reminding me of the easy poise my gramps always had. I could totally imagine him in uniform… and out of it.

  Stop staring, Cassie. I couldn't help it, though. The man, who I'd mentally started calling 'Devil Dog', was the finest specimen of manhood I'd ever seen. After a few seconds of study, I noted his hair was a bit too long for an active soldier.

  "Are you off duty?"

  "Out two years ago. Medical discharge."

  "Oh," I said, casting about for something to say. "You look pretty healthy to me."

  "Got hurt on tour. Afghanistan."

  "That's too bad. I bet they need guys like you over there."

  A flicker of pain crossed his face and he angled his body away from mine. Embarrassment flooded through me like cold fire. I'd finally put my foot in my mouth, and the vibe I got from Devil Dog was that he'd rather be anywhere but here.

  Well, that's that, my brain said sadly. It was fun while it lasted. The rest of
my body wept.

  The barista set our drinks on the counter, prompting my escape.

  "I'm sorry. Like I said—I shouldn't talk before caffeine… or ever. That was really rude, and… sorry." Grabbing my coffee, I dashed out the door.

  *

  Twenty minutes later, I pulled up in front of Nan's house, where I'd been living since Chad kicked me out. I shut off the car and let my head my drop onto the steering wheel. The intense, giddy feeling I'd felt talking to the hunky Devil Dog faded into a dull sadness and the sense that I'd missed out on something good.

  Typical Cassie, my brain tutted. No wonder your marriage is over.

  Sometimes I wish I could punch my own thoughts in the face.

  I contemplated the man with the bulldog tattoo as I carried my latte inside the house. It surprised me that I was so drawn to muscles; I'd never gone for jocks before. My ex, Chad, wasn't built. He was fit, though, from a strict six days a week workout regimen. I'd once teased him about it.

  "I'm not going to be the one in this relationship who lets myself go," he had said, with a pointed look at the chocolate bar I was munching on.

  Jerky McJerkface. I should've seen his betrayal coming.

  Now, Devil Dog… the way he gave me his total focus, he seemed to appreciate my curves. And the way he bought me a coffee, and hovered his hand at my back to protect me from the rush. It must be a Marine thing. The poise, the polite respect, the confident yet conscientious way a man acts when he's had honor drummed into him, it all reminded me of my gramps.

  "Cassandra?" Nan trilled when I got in the door.

  Thank god the latte was kicking in. At eighty-eight years of age, getting over a brutal bout of pneumonia, my nan had more energy than a gaggle of cheerleaders at homecoming.

  She smiled at me from her medical bed, set up in a curtained off part of the living room. Despite being mostly bedridden, she'd put on a pretty flower print robe and piled her white hair on her head. Every night, I slathered lotion on my face and prayed I'd age half as well as my beautiful nan.

  "Hey, you." Despite my crappy day, I put a smile in my voice. "How are you feeling?"

  "Good, good. I'm almost tempted to call Dr. Lewis and get his permission to go tonight."

  Tonight the Veterans of Foreign Wars lodge were hosting their annual cookout and celebration. Nan and Gramps had attended every year, and last year, Nan had gone alone. This year she was under doctor's orders not to be around large groups of people until her immune system strengthened, so she'd roped me into carrying the torch.

  "Nan, I don't think that's a good idea—"

  She waved her hand at me. "I'm just fooling. Though I do have a surprise for you. I got you a date." She beamed at me.

  I nearly spat coffee all over the floor. "What?"

  "Dane Hutchinson. He's picking you up early to take you to get the flowers to take to the VFW."

  "Nan, I don't need a date. This isn't the prom."

  "Darn tootin', it's not. Chad took you to the prom, and Dane Hutchinson is ten times the man he was."

  The glint in her eye told me arguing was futile, but I persisted. "I'm just going to show up, show my face, tell everyone how you're doing, and leave."

  "Oh, darling girl, that's why I called Dane. You need to have some fun. Besides, you need a bigger car to transport the flowers. You're picking them up at two, right?"

  I made one last stab at protest. "Nan, I can't be dating… I'm not even divorced yet."

  "I know he sent the papers, Cassandra. And he hasn't been committed to your marriage in a long time," Nan said in a gentle voice.

  She was right. Chad had pulled away from me when he started law school. I told myself it was temporary while we worked towards our goals. I worked and supported him until he passed the bar, not realizing he was cheating on me the whole time.

  "That man pulled the wool over your eyes. It's time you realized how special you are. Dane is a good boy; Bill knew him from the VFW. He'll take care of you, show you a good time."

  "Nan…"

  She leaned forward and grabbed my hand. "Cassandra, you deserve a fun night. You're too young and lovely to be moping around the house with only an old fogey to keep you company."

  "You're not an old fogey," I huffed, though I didn’t know what a fogey was.

  "Cassandra, you are going to go with Dane tonight and have a good time. For me."

  I could never say no to Nan, which was why a few hours later I rushed to the door, still putting in my earrings, to meet my 'date'. What was his name again? Dog? Dane?

  From the glimpse I got through the window, the man was massive.

  I opened the door and looked up at mirrored shades.

  "Shit," I blurted, and got an eye crinkle.

  It was definitely him, the Marine from the coffee shop. Devil Dog. A head taller than me and twice as broad with muscles, he stood on the stoop like he owned it. He'd thrown on a button down shirt but the feet of the bulldog tattoo peeked out underneath the short sleeve. It was definitely him.

  "What are you doing here?" Stalker alarm bells rang in my head before I realized he held a bouquet of white daisies.

  "Hello," his voice was a gentle rumble I felt in my happy place.

  "Is this for real?" I demanded, pulling the door close behind me so Nan wouldn't be able to hear. "You're the date?" I knew I was being bitchy but this threw me for a loop. Everything pointed to a conspiracy between Devil Dog and my nan. I didn't like it; it was creepy.

  The flowers were nice, though.

  A furrow appeared on his brow, but he stood his ground. "I'm here to help run errands and help set up for the VFW event tonight."

  "Right. Escorting me."

  "Are you Cassandra Brass?"

  "Yes… no, I mean, that was my maiden name. So, earlier today… that was just a coincidence?"

  "Looks like it." The corners of his mouth drew up, as if he was amused at my pique. "Is that so hard to believe?"

  Well, no, it wasn't actually. Our town wasn't all that big. But it was strange. "Are those for me?" I nodded to the daisies.

  "Actually, they're for Miss Maddie. Is she here?"

  "Cassandra?" Nan called. "Is that Dane?"

  Dane. That was the name. Not Dog, but close. Devil Dog. He was a bit of a devil, turning up on my porch as if conjured by my lustful thoughts.

  "It's him, Nan. He brought you flowers."

  "He did? Let the boy in, Cassandra."

  I opened the door and frowned as I waved him inside, sticking with the bitchy act. As he walked past me, graceful and light on his feet despite his great bulk, I leaned forward a little and got a whiff of a nice scent, his body wash.

  Yum.

  Down, girl, my brain warned, and I followed Devil Dog, shaking my head at myself. What was it about this guy?

  "Those are for me? Oh, daisies are my favorite. You remembered." Nan smiled as the giant kissed her cheek. "It's been too long," she cooed, like she was a girl of eighteen and not almost eighty-nine. "And you've met my granddaughter, Cassandra." Nan beamed at me. "I've been wanting you two to meet for a long time."

  Just like that I knew there was no getting out of this.

  Despite his muscle-bound, tattooed exterior, Dane seemed right at home in the gentleman role, which was good, because between the errands, helping set up, and the actual event at the VFW, I would be spending most of the day with him.

  Just like in the coffee shop, Dane hovered a hand at my back, escorting me to his ride. His car was just like him—hot, American, all muscle.

  He even opened the door for me.

  It didn't help that my body grew giddy being near him. My stomach fluttered at the sight of his broad expanse of chest and firm biceps. What did this man do for a workout, lift cars? He caught sight of me staring and raised a brow. I flushed and bit my lip, looking away. I hadn't gotten laid in way, way too long. Since long before my separation.

  Another reason to curse my ex.

  I kept quiet, not wanting to risk say
ing something stupid or insulting again. Dane glanced at me a couple times, but noted my stiff posture in the car seat and said nothing. Other than directions to the flower shop and unloading instructions at the VFW, we spoke very little. By the time the cookout started, I was missing hearing his gentle rumble.

  I stood awkwardly to one side until a few men approached me, looking appreciatively at my bare legs and sandals.

  "Having a good time, sweetheart?"

  Dane appeared at my side, close enough to put his arm around me if he wanted to. "This is Cassandra, Miss Maddie's granddaughter."

  "Bill and Maddie Brass?" The men recognized my grandparents, and instantly I became a celebrity.

  I spent the rest of the night talking about my grandparents, with Devil Dog Dane at my side. He was the perfect gentleman, escorting me, introducing me, only leaving to bring me food. And I was grateful. I recognized a few faces from volunteering as a teenager, but everyone knew Dane. He'd been actively volunteering since coming back from tour.

  The hardest part of the night came when they recognized my gramps for his service. I had to go up in front of everyone and accept an award on my grandma's behalf.

  When I stepped off the little podium, my vision blurred with tears, Dane was waiting.

  "Come with me," he rumbled, the tone of his voice not asking, but telling. "Gonna show you something."

  He offered his hand and without thinking, I took it. He led me into the lodge, down a quiet hall, and stopped in front of a picture of a bulldog a lot like the one on his arm. Next to the picture was a red poster with a bulldog chasing a Dachshund.

  "Recruitment poster," Dane said. He let my hand go but I still felt its warmth. "Devil dogs—rumor has it that's what the Germans called the Marines during World War Two. That's when the bulldog became our mascot."

  I studied the poster, wondering what it would've been like to enlist as a Marine in that brutal war, knowing you'd be the first to fight. Dane stood quietly beside me, and I realized he'd pulled me away from the crowd to let me gather myself.

  "Thank you," I said, turning to him.

  "Figured you needed a break," he said in that soft, strong voice.

  "It's just a lot to take in."

  Dane stayed silent, focused on me with his usual intentness. I sighed and shared, "Last time I was supposed to go to a VFW event, my grandpa and I got in a huge fight. I ran straight to Chad—my ex. It was a mistake." My whole life was a mistake. Well, maybe just the past eight years, but it felt like my whole life. "I know that now."