Uniform Desires (Make Mine Military Romance) (85 page)

Of course, he’d resort to thinking about Trish. It was a good memory and there was nothing else to think about. That was all it was. It wasn’t like he was falling for her or anything.

Still, he couldn’t stop himself from extending the conversation. "So, you talk to your family since we left?"

While pawing through clothes in his bag, Zippy said, "Not since we were laid over for those few hours at the base in Maine."

Crash nodded. "I guess we should boot up our laptops and see if there really is usable Wi-Fi. Then we can at least email home to tell them we’re safe."

Zippy pulled a set of sheets out of his bag and tossed them on the bed. "I’ll try tomorrow. I think we have to get a code to log in anyway. I wanna get unpacked and lie the hell down. I didn’t sleep for shit last night in Kyrgyzstan. I’m exhausted. Besides, there’s what? An eight and a half hour time difference? Neither Trish or my parents are going to be on Skype right now."

Skype.
Crash hadn’t thought of that possibility. Email yes, but live video chats, no. While Trish was on with Zippy in their tiny, shared space, Crash would hear her voice. Her image would be just feet from him, in living color on the computer screen.

Shit. So much for his hopes that the memories would fade, that he’d forget about her so he could concentrate on getting through these seven months. This wouldn’t help their mutual plan to have a no-strings fling and then part ways.

Strange, but the more Crash thought about it, the more he realized he wasn’t all that upset that plan had gone down the crapper. He liked the idea of seeing and hearing her again, even if she was talking to Zippy and not him. Crash couldn’t afford an emotional attachment right now, but hell, he could hear her bicker with her brother and enjoy the sound of her laugh without getting attached. Hell, that would be almost as good as having a television.

~

New Jersey

"Look. I know there’s something up with you." Dawn’s eyes zeroed in on Trish across the table.

Trish paused, her glass of wine halfway to her mouth. "What? No. What makes you say that?"

"Because the past couple of times we’ve been out you haven’t mentioned our trip to New York once. And if I bring it up you change the subject."

"No, I don’t. You’re crazy." Trish’s heart rate sped. She’d been so careful to not talk about that trip so nothing would slip out about her and Crash, that now Dawn suspected.

"No, I’m not crazy. You’re obviously pissed about what happened between your brother and me. I’m sorry, okay? If I’d known it would affect our friendship, I never would have done it. I honestly thought you were behind helping me be with him when you suggested we go up to the room that second night. But I see you weren’t and I can’t change it now, so can you just please forgive me so we can move on?"

Phew. Trish tried to hold in the breath of relief that threatened to whoosh out of her.

"It’s fine. I forgive you." And now Trish had double the guilt to carry around. First, because she was hiding her night with Crash, and more because now Dawn assumed it was the hookup with Danny making things weird between them.

"How’s he doing anyway?"

Trish glanced up. "Who?"

"Danny. Your brother. The one in Afghanistan." Dawn’s eyes widened as she stared at Trish.

"Oh, he’s fine." Christ, she sucked at this lying stuff. "I got an email telling me he’s okay and that they’d gotten to Afghanistan. It took them a few days, but they’re on base now. They’re sharing a room, which they weren’t expecting so they’re kind of pissed about that."

"They? Who is this
they
you keep talking about?"

And there was one more mistake. Trish had been better off when Dawn thought she was mad. "Danny and Crash. The guy who was here—"

"I remember Crash. He was cute, don’t you think?"

Cute was not a word Trish would use to describe Crash. Puppies were cute. Toddlers were cute. Crash was—silent but strong. Big but gentle. Rugged but handsome.

Trish tore herself out of her own thoughts long enough to glance up and see Dawn watching her, brows raised, apparently expecting some sort of response to her last comment. "Uh, yeah. I guess."

Dawn frowned. "Jesus, woman. You need a man. If you’re so deep into sexual hibernation you didn’t notice that hunka man and how he was looking at you that weekend, we’ve got an emergency situation here."

"Was he looking at me?" Trish couldn’t help it. She had to ask.

"Uh, yes. Oh my God. I’m getting you laid tonight. That’s it. Desperate times demand desperate measures." Dawn craned her neck to look around them, presumably for a candidate for her quest to get Trish some sex. Little did Dawn know that Trish had so much sex that first night with Crash, the next day she’d had sore muscles. She’d been sore other places, as well.

There was no way she could be with another guy for a meaningless night of sex now, because what was supposed to be exactly that with Crash, hadn’t been meaningless at all. She was clearly incapable of having a one-night stand. She couldn’t get him or their parting kiss out of her mind.

Dawn leaned closer. "Okay, there’s a guy at the bar. No wedding ring and he keeps glancing this way. I think he’s checking us out. You should go flirt with him."

"First of all no wedding ring doesn’t mean he’s single or available. Second, he’s probably checking you out, not me." Trish tipped her head toward the good expanse of cleavage Dawn was showing tonight.

"Yeah, because men never look at you with all that hair of yours bouncing around and those gorgeous green eyes and legs so long you could play women’s basketball." Dawn rolled her eyes. "Please."

Trish smiled. "Aw, thanks. You’re sweet."

With all the flirting and cleavage, it was sometimes easy to overlook what a genuinely generous person Dawn was.

"Not sweet. It’s true." Dawn pushed her chair back from the table and stood. "I’m going to ask if he’d like to join us."

"No!"

Dawn frowned. "Why not?"

"Just please, sit back down."

With a huff, Dawn sat. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing. I’m sorry. If you want to talk to him, you go ahead. Just don’t bring him over for me, please." Trish remained under Dawn’s scrutiny.

"And I’ll ask you again, why not? He’s cute. He dresses nice. He looks interested. Why don’t you want to meet him?"

"Because I had sex with Crash that weekend we were in the city and you were with Danny." The truth came spilling out, and Trish felt the wave of relief wash over her once it had.

It would have come out eventually anyway and everything would be so much easier now that Dawn knew. Not just so Dawn would stop trying to fix her up with random men, but also because Trish needed someone to talk to about what had happened.

"You what?" In her surprise, Dawn’s voice was so loud Trish cringed.

"Shh," Trish hissed and kept her own voice low. "You heard me."

"Why didn’t you tell me?"

She shrugged. "I don’t know. I guess maybe I was embarrassed. I didn’t even know him before that weekend."

Dawn dismissed that with a wave of her hand. "So what if you’d just met him? You spent hours together, touring the city, eating, drinking, getting to know each other as well, if not better than you would have if you’d been on a first date."

"I guess."

"I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me." Dawn put on a scowl, but seemed to get over it as she leaned across the table. "Have you talked to him since? Did he call before he left? Have you been emailing him?"

"No. It was just some fun before he deployed. We agreed on that before we did anything. It wasn’t meant to be the start of something." Too bad. Trish wouldn’t have minded something. Anything.

"Hmm, I wonder if he’s said anything about you to Danny. You could feel your brother out—"

"Oh my God, no. Are you crazy? Danny can’t know."

"Trish, they’re friends. Why would he care if you’re interested in Crash?"

"Because it’s not like we agreed to start dating. It was a one-night stand. Well, two nights, but you know what I mean. Danny can’t know that."

"You know about Danny and me." Dawn cocked a brow.

"Women are different, I guess. And Crash is different. He’s honorable. He didn’t want to even consider doing anything because I was his friend’s sister. I had to convince him it was okay."

"Convince him, huh? You dirty girl. I never knew you had it in you." A sly smile bowed Dawn’s lips.

"Stop. I’ve been holding this all in with no one to talk to for weeks. Now that you know, I need you to be my friend, not tease me."

"I am your friend. And I don’t see a problem."

"You don’t?" Trish saw nothing but problems. She’d have to lie to her brother forever about this. And she couldn’t stop thinking about Crash.

"Nope. You should be writing to that man. Letters. Emails. Send him dirty pictures of yourself. Whatever. Make his time fly by and when Crash gets back you’ll be the first one he wants to see."

Could she? Should she? Trish’s cheeks felt hot just thinking about it. "No. I couldn’t do that. We didn’t even exchange email addresses."

There were some things she could do though. She’d just have to get creative. Trish’s mind whirled with the ideas rocketing through her brain. She was aware that Dawn continued to talk, but the words didn’t make it through to Trish’s consciousness. She didn’t wrestle her thoughts back to her friend until Dawn stood.

Trish frowned. "Where are you going?"

"To the bathroom. I just told you that."

"Oh, sorry."

Dawn grabbed her purse. "I sincerely hope if you’re going ignore me, it’s because you’re planning what lingerie to wear for the naughty pictures you’re going to send Crash."

Trish rolled her eyes. She couldn’t do what Dawn was suggesting, but she could definitely do something to get Crash’s attention. She’d put the plan to work first thing tomorrow morning.

Chapter 9

Camp Leatherneck/Bastion

Helmand Province, Afghanistan

July 2013

The wind whipped hot, dry air and sand at Crash’s face. Even in full sunlight, visibility was next to nothing. Crash couldn’t see more than a football field away. Not that there was anything to see. Outside the wire, the camp was surrounded by nothing but desolation. Desert as far as the eye could see.

It was eerie knowing the bad guys were out there somewhere. Watching the troop movements. Waiting for an opportunity. All while behind the Hesco barriers life for the troops went on.

Crash picked his way over the rock-strewn ground. It was hard to walk in combat boots, even harder in rubber shoes when he went to the showers each evening. There was nowhere to escape from the damn rocks. They were everywhere, trucked in because even though they made walking difficult in the dry summer, they were necessary for when the rainy season turned the ground to treacherously slick mud.

The rains wouldn’t hit until spring when he, God willing, would be home. So for now Crash had to deal with the windstorms and the heat and the rocks. It was well over one hundred degrees today, as usual. Even night didn’t bring relief in the summer when the temperature would drop to eighty. That made Crash cross running, even after sunset, off his list of daily PT activities. Yeah, he ran while he was in Djibouti, but he was a few years younger then. Now, he made do with one of the three gyms on base, though only one of those had A/C.

Still, he wouldn’t dare complain. How could he in good conscience not be grateful for the amenities they had here? There were troops who had it way worse. He supposed he could deal with the military’s rocky solution to the rainy season since they also provided steak, ice cream, and occasionally lobster in the chow hall.

Crash passed the coffee place on his way to his quarters from the barbershop. Church service must have just let out. He saw troops walking, bibles in hand, away from the direction of the chapel. His mother would beat his ass if she knew he hadn’t been attending, that after work today he’d chosen to go to the exchange and then get his hair cut.

Working more than twelve hours a day, and then working out at the gym, didn’t leave a lot of time to do things like get to the exchange to buy more deodorant when he ran out. Then again, she’d tell him there was always time for God. Crash could hear her voice in his head as clearly as if she were on the phone line for one of their weekly calls.

Maybe next week he’d make time and try to get to a church service.

The bank of stacked CLUs where his quarters were located came into view. Relief from the heat loomed so close Crash picked up speed to get indoors and into the A/C quicker. He punched the code into the lock and swung the reinforced steel door open. The cool air of the can hit him in the face and he breathed deep for the first time since leaving the barbershop to cross the sweltering camp.

As he closed the door against the heat, Crash saw Zippy was already inside. "Hey. What’s going on?"

Tearing into a cardboard box, Zippy glanced up. "Care package from home."

"Cool." Crash smothered the envy.