The Marine's Secret Daughter Read online

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’ve lost guys on the battlefield and that stinks, but losing them this way—” he shook his head “—is worse. Ya know? It feels...senseless. I mourn them, but I can’t let myself wallow or that’s all I’d do. The best way to honor their memory is to move on and find a way to help those still here. Help them find ways to cope with severe PTSD. I hate it that some see suicide as the only way out. Does that make sense? Or make me seem heartless?”

  “Oh, Riley,” Meg whispered and laid her hand over the one he had resting on the table. “I saw what you did for Travis at the church.”

  “You mean the guy in the boonie hat?” He frowned. “I didn’t do anything except talk and I’m not sure what good that did.”

  “I saw him smile and relax while you were talking to him. And he hung around for a while. Usually he’s got one foot out the door.”

  He shrugged as if it was nothing. “We just talked.”

  “Yeah, but sometimes little things can make a big difference.” He might downplay what he did, but she saw that he had connected with Travis, something none of the others had been able to do.

  “Now you sound like Ogle.”

  “Oh, dear Lord.” Meg burst out laughing and he joined her. Times like this she spotted the old Riley under the layers the years had piled on. But she had to admit, this Riley was terrific, too. And temporary. Don’t forget temporary.

  He finished his pastry and wiped the crumbs off his hands. “Would you go out with me?”

  She choked on the sip of coffee she’d taken. Did she hear that right? Was he asking her out?

  He leaned closer. “You okay?”

  She nodded vigorously and cleared her throat. “What do you mean by out?”

  “What most people mean. A date.”

  “A date?” Could she do it? Go on a date and not fall in love all over again?

  He glanced around. “Is there an echo in here?”

  “Sorry. I wanted to be sure we were on the same page.” What harm could one date do? She glanced at the picture of her and Fiona on the front of her refrigerator.

  “Is that a yes?”

  She was an adult now, not a hormone-pumped teenager. Surely she could handle a date. “Yeah...sure.”

  “How about Angelo’s for dinner and dancing?”

  Yeah, he was serious. “Angelo’s?”

  “There’s that echo again.”

  The Italian restaurant was a favorite of couples...not that she’d had dates since she’d been in Loon Lake. Maybe it was time to be a bit selfish. “Sorry. But I’m not sure what brought this on.”

  “Well, I wasn’t pleasant yesterday and since it’s my fault you’re a subject of gossip, I thought—”

  “So this is a pity date?” She swallowed hard.

  “What? No.” He blew out his breath. “Can’t a guy want to take a beautiful girl on a date?”

  * * *

  Riley yanked on the tie and pulled out the knot, only to start over. What had possessed him to ask Meg on a formal date? He’d had to run out that afternoon to buy dress pants, a button-down shirt, a tie and even shoes. He wasn’t a suit guy. At funerals or weddings of his fellow marines, he’d worn his dress blues. Lately, there’d been far too many of the former, like the one he’d have to attend soon. Was there something he could’ve done? That question had haunted him ever since the phone call.

  When and where had he lost the ability to tie a necktie? Impatient with himself, he pushed the maudlin thoughts aside and began the steps for a Windsor knot all over again. Tonight belonged to Meg. He would concentrate on their date—something they’d never done. The night they’d hooked up, Meg had offered to give him a lift.

  Thinking about his own mortality had him wondering if Meggie would remember him as the guy who’d made her the butt of local gossip. Dinner and dancing at Angelo’s wasn’t leaving a legacy, but he wanted to give her a good memory and show the rest of Loon Lake that he respected Meg. And preferably that he’d accomplish all this without a clip-on tie.

  Finally satisfied with his knot, he grabbed his wallet off the dresser and stuffed it into his back pocket. Crazy thing was, despite the hassle of having to dress the part, he was looking forward to spending an evening with Meg. He might not be right for her, but for tonight he could pretend. For once in his life, he could be “that guy” for Meggie.

  He’d barely knocked at her door when she flung it open and he swallowed his tongue. A short black dress and sexy heels showed off her long, shapely legs, and she’d piled her hair into a mass of copper curls on top of her head. She smiled shyly at him while he waited for his stupid heart to start pumping again.

  Her smile slipped. “Is everything okay?”

  “Your lips are all shiny.” Wow, such a smooth talker there, Marine.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No, you look beautiful. Stunning.” Too good for the likes of you.

  She grinned, her eyes gleaming with humor, warming him. “You clean up pretty well, too.”

  “They’re new...my clothes, that is.” Oh, God, I need to shut up.

  She laughed. “So are mine.”

  “Meg, you better not tell me you walked into town.” He made a mental note to talk to Ogle Whatley about getting Meg another car before he left. Yeah, that’s right. Don’t forget you’re leaving. He shoved that thought to the back of his mind. Tonight belonged to Meg. And so did he.

  “No, my friend Tina took me shopping and dressed me.” She blushed. “I mean, she helped me pick out the dress.”

  At least he wasn’t the only one tripping over their tongue tonight, which made him determined to do this right for Meggie. He held out his arm. “Shall we?”

  Riley tried to concentrate on his driving and not the beautiful, sexy woman beside him. Yup, no doubt about it: Meg was all grown up. The whole time in Afghanistan, when he’d allowed himself to think about Meg, she’d been nineteen. Now she was a woman. A very desirable woman who deserved the white picket fence and a man who would be there for her, day in and day out, not half a world away. He couldn’t give her a lot of things, but he could give her tonight.

  He slowed the pickup as they approached the restaurant’s parking lot...the almost deserted parking lot. What the...?

  “You didn’t book the whole place, did you?”

  “No.” He braked near the entrance. “I made a reservation, that’s all.”

  “So, they’re open or supposed to be.”

  “Supposed to be,” he echoed and put the truck into Park. “Wait here. Let me check it out.”

  He jumped out of the truck, a sick feeling forming in the pit of his stomach as he approached the building.

  * * *

  Meg smoothed her dress over her thighs and smiled. No matter what happened tonight, she’d achieved her dream of a LBD and killer heels. Sure, she had trouble walking in the heels, let alone dancing, but the look of male appreciation on Riley’s face made the pinched toes worthwhile. Tonight she felt like a princess from one of Fiona’s videos. Tomorrow she’d come clean to Riley, but tonight would be hers, a memory to tuck away and pull out when life got rough. Tonight she was Cinderella.

  He trudged back to the truck and got in. Sighing, he rubbed his face. “They had a kitchen fire this afternoon and will be closed while they clean up. Meggie, I’m so sorry. We’ll look for someplace else.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind where we go.”

  After trying two other places that were booked and turning people away, he banged his palm against the steering wheel. “I had this big night planned for you. Now we don’t even have somewhere to eat.”

  She reached over and squeezed the bunched muscles on his forearm. “It’s not your fault. I have an idea. Why don’t we stop at a drive-through and get some burgers and fries and drive to the beach at the lake? They’ve got picnic
tables. We can eat under the stars.”

  “I wanted to give you a real date, a good memory.”

  “Who says that’s not a real date?”

  “But you’re all dressed up.”

  “I dressed like this for you and you’re right here.” She slipped her hand over his and he turned his over to twine his fingers with hers. Tonight was her night, probably the only one she was going to get, and she was determined to enjoy it, no matter what. Tomorrow there would be plenty of time for confessions. “So how about it?”

  On the way to the beach, Riley stopped at the Pic-N-Save but wouldn’t let her come in with him. He came back out with several bags but stowed them on the backseat.

  “This isn’t the way I planned this,” he muttered as he took the bag from the kid working the drive-through window and handed it to her.

  “I know but I’m flexible.” Motherhood had taught—no, tonight was all about her and storing up memories for when Riley left. She’d honor her obligation as Fiona’s mom tomorrow.

  The tires crunched on the crushed gravel parking lot at the lake. Riley chose a spot and turned to her. “You wait here a minute.”

  “Sit? Stay?” She raised her eyebrows in mock anger, but her lips twitched with the effort to suppress a smile.

  “You’re not gonna let me live that down, are you?”

  She laughed, shaking her head. “Not a chance.”

  Chuckling, he grabbed the bags from the back and jogged toward the picnic area. She tried to see what he was doing, but where he’d parked made that difficult. Opening the bag with their supper, she plopped a curly fry in her mouth. The truck smelled like their food but underneath was the scent of Riley’s spicy aftershave. As a teenager, she’d swiped one of Riley’s shirts when he’d gone swimming with Liam. She’d kept the shirt hidden in her drawer and would take it out and bury her nose in Riley’s aroma.

  He came back and opened her door. “Let me help you down.”

  She set the food on the floor and held out a hand, but he ignored her hand and seized her around the waist. He clutched her against his warmth before easing her to the ground. Then he grabbed the bag with their food and took her hand.

  Her heart swelled. The picnic table was set with a tablecloth, candles and a mason jar with a bouquet of fresh flowers.

  “It’s not Angelo’s but...” He shrugged and cleared his throat.

  “It’s better.” She squeezed his hand. “It’s just the two of us.”

  After she’d settled on the bench seat, he sat next to her, his thigh brushing against hers. Sitting next to him like this, it was hard to remember all the reasons Riley wasn’t the man for her.

  They ate their burgers and reminisced about summers spent at the lake.

  They were almost finished when he reached over and wiped his napkin on her cheek. “Mustard.”

  “Thanks,” she whispered, her gaze clashing with his.

  Riley cleared his throat and began gathering their trash. “I’ll throw this stuff away.”

  “Let me help.”

  “No. You sit there. This evening wasn’t supposed to involve you having to clean up.”

  She bumped her shoulder against his. “It’s not your fault. And you made it special with the flowers and candles.”

  “It’s the least I could do,” he said as he threw their trash in the covered barrel. “Wait right there,” Riley called to her as he went to his truck. Music drifted back to her.

  He came back to the picnic table and reached out his hand. “I believe I promised dancing.”

  She took his hand but remained seated. “I’m not sure I can manage in these shoes. How about just sitting here listening to the music and watching the sun set and the stars come out?”

  “Thank God.” He squeezed her hand and grinned, deepening his sexy-beyond-belief dimples. “Because I can’t dance.”

  “We can sit at the end of the dock if you’d like. We can still hear the music,” she said.

  He glanced over at the wooden dock that reached out into the lake. “Will you be okay that close to the water? It’s getting dark.”

  “As long as you’re beside me, I’ll be okay. But first, let me take these shoes off. At least now I know why they’re called killer heels.”

  After she’d slipped off the shoes, he took her hand again and they strolled over to the dock. When they reached the end, he sat down beside her and dangled his legs next to hers.

  “You okay?” he asked as the sun dipped below the horizon and disappeared with a wink.

  “I’m okay,” she said, but her voice wasn’t as strong as she’d wanted.

  Wrapping his arm around her, he pulled her closer. Their gazes met and locked and she knew this was the romantic moment she’d spent her teen years dreaming about. These tender moments weren’t lustful or frenzied like the night they’d created Fiona; this was sweet and slow, almost reverent.

  His lips touching hers was achingly gentle, the culmination of all her girlish fantasies. This was Rick and Ilsa, Westley and Buttercup. The years of cynicism melted away and she believed in fairy tales again.

  His firm lips eased away from hers, but he rubbed his nose against hers and brought his hand up to caress the back of her neck. They drew apart to watch the stars, but he kept his arm around her, anchoring her against his warmth.

  He squeezed her shoulder and pointed to a trail of light blazing across the sky. “Falling star. Make a wish.”

  “I already did.” She leaned into his solid warmth, enjoying their time together. The evening hadn’t gone as planned, but this was more intimate.

  “Wishing we’d gone to Angelo’s?”

  “Nope. I think tonight was perfect.” And she meant it.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Even if no one got to see you in your dress and those sexy shoes?”

  “You’re the only one that mattered,” she whispered.

  Rustling noises followed by chattering interrupted their moment.

  Riley glanced back toward the picnic tables. “Raccoons. Maybe that’s our cue to leave.”

  “Yeah, I think the kitchen fire was enough of an interesting footnote for tonight.”

  He stood and held out his hand to help her up. She nestled her hand in his, knowing tonight would be a memory she’d cherish forever, no matter what happened between them in the future.

  * * *

  The next morning, the first thing Meg did was look across the yard. His truck was gone. She told herself he probably had some errands in town. No big deal. Surely after last night he wouldn’t leave without telling her. But by midafternoon when he still hadn’t come back, she had to face the truth. She’d allowed herself to weave dreams and hopes out of thin air. He’d made no promises, including the chaste kiss when he dropped her at her door at the end of the evening.

  Face it, Meg, that kiss—heck, the whole darn evening—meant more to you than to him.

  Did she think a sexy dress and shoes could change him into a home-every-night-for-supper family man? The marines are my life now, Meggie.

  Calling herself all kinds of a fool, she pulled out her phone.

  Thank you for last night.

  She could imagine her mother chastising her. No, Ma, I’m not chasing him. I’m being polite.

  Her phone dinged back.

  Sorry didn’t go as planned.

  She nibbled her lower lip trying to decide how to answer.

  I enjoyed it.

  No answering ding. Being concerned wasn’t the same as stalking.

  Where are you?

  Funeral.

  She squeezed her phone. The fellow marine who’d committed suicide.

  She typed, I’m so sorry wish I could help...

  For the next three days Mother Nature matched her mood with gray skies and intermittent rain. Thanks to Riley she didn’t have to
worry about her basement. Not only had he and Kevin put a waterproof coating on, but they’d also installed a sump pump for good measure. Unfortunately, neither one of those improvements helped her leaky roof.

  She could only assume Riley was spending time with his fellow marines after losing one of their own. And while she couldn’t fault him for that, the more time that passed, the harder it would be to tell him about Fiona and the guiltier she felt.

  “If it wasn’t for bad luck, you’d have no luck at all,” she muttered as she emptied the saucepan she’d put down in the middle of the night to catch the drips from her leaky roof. Last time she’d been in the shed, she’d noticed a blue tarp. Time to go and see if it was still there, and if so, was it still serviceable.

  Getting the tarp and an aluminum ladder from the shed, she set about fixing the problem. She knew if she called her friend Brody Wilson, he would come and help, but this was her house, her problem, her solution.

  “What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?”

  Chapter Six

  Startled by Riley’s angry voice, Meg lost her grip on the tarp she’d dragged to the roof. She scrambled to catch it, but her fingers couldn’t hold on to the slippery blue plastic. She watched helplessly as the weather-resistant cover slid down the pitch of her roof, no doubt further damaging the worn shingles on its way. When had he gotten back? She looked over at the cottage and sure enough, his black F-150 sat out front.

  Last night, listening to the steady drip of water into the stainless steel pan, she’d hatched what seemed like a good plan. But last night’s brilliance was turning into Meg’s Folly in the light of day. And of course Riley had to return in time to witness it. Yep, bad luck all the way.

  “Stay right there. Don’t move,” Riley ordered and adjusted the aluminum ladder against the roof with a clatter.