Marry Me, Major. Merline Lovelace
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“I already engaged it,” Ben assured her. “I’ll give you the passcode later. She’s good to go.”
“Can I play with it now? Please, Alex. Please!”
“I guess. Do you want Ben to show you how to work it?”
The seven-year-old gave her a look of utter disdain. “Dinah and I play on hers all the time.”
“Okay, if you’re sure you know what you’re doing.”
“Aleeeeex.”
With that parting shot, she whirled, took her prize to her bed and belly flopped onto her Princess Elsa comforter.
“Pretty slick,” Alex murmured as she escorted Ben to the master bedroom. “But how in the world did you find time to buy an iPad and download those applications?”
“I hit a twenty-four-hour Walmart. Then I had Swish and Dingo test fly the apps while I set us up for Vegas. They congratulated me on our upcoming nuptials, by the way, and sent you their heartfelt condolences.”
“Did you tell them our arrangement is only temporary?”
“No. Did you tell Maria?”
“No.” At his questioning look, she shrugged. “I said we’d reconnected last night after two years and rekindled a hot romance.”
“Close enough.” The lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled. “We did reconnect and the romance was pretty hot.”
Dammit! That lopsided grin should come with a warning label.
“Give me a sec,” she said, pulling herself together, “and I’ll empty a drawer for you.”
His neatly folded underwear didn’t take up even a fourth of the drawer. Similarly folded socks, gym shorts and sweats barely filled the rest of the empty space. He arranged the three shirts he’d brought over knife-pressed slacks and squeezed the hangers into her jam-packed closet. His one pair of sneakers and one pair of boots looked lost amid her racks of slings and mules and wedges and jeweled flip-flops.
She caught him eyeing the colorful array and gave an embarrassed laugh. “I can’t help it. Shoes are my comfort food.”
“Whatever works. I’m into Game of Thrones myself.”
“The HBO show?”
“The books. But I’ll admit I’ve watched the video of Cersei walking naked through the streets of King’s Landing more than once.”
“I don’t know,” she mused. “I kind of liked Daenerys Targaryen’s hunky husband.”
“How come I didn’t discover that you’re a Game of Thrones devotee during our weekend together? Wait. Scratch that. We were pretty much otherwise occupied, weren’t we?”
“Pretty much,” she agreed with a flutter just under her ribs.
She’d have to think about that jittery sensation. Later. After they got back from Vegas and Ben was on his way to wherever.
Right now she had all she could handle with her prospective groom propping a baseball bat in the corner of her bedroom and hooking a ball cap emblazoned with 2014 Badger Bash on a corner of her dresser mirror.
“A little extra touch,” he explained. “In case you have to spin the tale of where we met.”
“Good thinking.” She eyed the almost empty carryall. “What else is in there?”
“Just a few challenge coins.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s a challenge coin?”
“A sort of unit patch. Every squadron or wing has its own. Then we trade with other units. Like baseball cards from the ’50s.” He rooted around in the bag and produced a handful of disks decorated with various designs. “You have to carry a coin on you at all times or you might get stuck buying a round of drinks for the house if challenged.”
When she moved in for a closer look, he shuffled a coin out of the small pile. The enameled surface showed a four-engine aircraft painted a dull gray. “This is my bird, the MC-130J Commando II.”
Another featured a fierce-looking eagle on a field of blue with an olive branch clutched in one claw and thunder bolts in the other. The lettering around the seal widened Alex’s eyes. “Is this from the president?”
“Yeah, we hauled POTUS for a couple classified missions.”
Impressed, she fingered a colorful coin displaying an orange-and-blue-striped lizard surrounded by lettering in an unfamiliar script.
“Where’s this one from?”
“A little island off the west coast of Africa nobody’s ever heard of.” Wry amusement flickered across his face. “That was one of the hairiest approaches I ever made. A short, unimproved dirt airstrip that ended in a fifteen-hundred-foot drop to the ocean. I’d just as soon not fly in there again anytime soon, even if the locals did brew up one helluva brand of fermented guava juice.”
And Alex thought her brief stint as a Vegas costume designer had been exciting! She’d rubbed elbows with a few stars, none of them A-listers but still glamorous in their own way. She’d never hauled a president around, though, or landed on a remote African island.
But suddenly, inexplicably, she couldn’t wait to get back to Sin City. She’d only be there a few hours. Just long enough for them to pick up a license and say “I do.” Yet for those few hours in that fairy-tale land of fake pyramids and Italian castles, she could be her old self again.
Impatiently, she checked her watch. Their flight would depart in a little over two hours. Plenty of time at an airport that didn’t see anything even remotely resembling the crowds at LAX or JFK. Still, they needed to be sure to make both the outbound and the return flight later this evening so Ben could report for his deployment processing early tomorrow morning.
Worried that Dinah and her mom had been delayed by the orange road-construction cones that sprouted all over the city like mushrooms, Alex slid a hand in the pocket of her slacks to retrieve her phone. Thankfully, the Madisons pulled in to the drive just as she was keying their number.
“Sorry we’re a little late,” Pat Madison huffed when Alex opened the door to her and her daughter. “Rio Grande Boulevard’s down to one lane north of Mountain Road. Some kind of accident.”
“No problem. Thanks for keeping Maria today. I’ll pick her up around eight thirty this evening, if that’s not too late.”
“That’s fine.”
“Dinah! Look what I got.”
Maria skipped out of her room hefting her iPad, and Dinah cooed in delight.
“Cool! Now we can play Crazy Farm together. But you said you had to wait for your birthday before you got one.”
“Ben brought it for me. He’s...uh...” She swiveled to face the man who emerged from the master bedroom. Her lips pursed as she tried to decipher their connection. “When you ’n’ Alex get married, will you be my uncle?”
“I guess so.”
“Even if she’s not really my aunt?”
“Well...”
“What about when she adopts me? She’ll be my mom but you can’t be my dad ’cause I already have one.”
“How about we figure all that stuff out as we go?”
Dinah’s mother followed the exchange with considerable interest. She knew about Maria’s deadbeat dad. A single mom herself, she’d been a fierce advocate and trusted advisor in Alex’s adoption campaign. Still, she’d expressed both surprise and concern when Alex called and explained why she needed her friend to keep Maria for the day.
Pat’s