What Part of Marine Don't You Understand? (The Challenge Series) Read Free
Author: Heather Long
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familiar.
“Nope.”
“Captain. Marine. Tall.”
She snorted. “Brent, you do realize that most of the Marines I know are taller than I am, right? You included?” Four brothers, her father, three uncles, two cousins, and all of her grandfathers were Marines. She couldn’t turn around without tripping over one.
“Luke Dexter, the guy who started Mike’s Place in Dallas? You went with us to the grand opening ceremony.”
“Okay. I remember Mike’s Place.” The facility sat on a gorgeous campus that mingled military and civilian in a seamless blending. The swanky party to celebrate its opening for veterans and their families had been pretty fun, too.
“Great. They’re planning some fundraising events over the next few months, and I am scheduled to attend, but….”
“You can’t?” It was a guess.
“Unfortunately, it’s just a matter of bad timing.”
“You know they have golf courses in Texas.” He’d never cancel if he could help it, but she liked teasing him.
“Actually Ryleigh might be ovulating and….”
“Oh. Stop!” She let out a squeal. “Too much information.”
He laughed and she scrubbed a hand over her face, the idea permanently burned into her brain. She would need bleach to get it out. “I will go. I promise. Just never mention why you can’t again.”
“You are the best. I’ll have my office book your tickets and make all the arrangements.”
“No problem. Really happy to help.” They chatted for a few minutes more and then he had to go to a meeting. Sitting up, she tossed the handset onto the bed and looked at the song list again. Her producer sent a wide variety of songs and themes available. But none of them touched her. Hitting play on the next one, she grimaced.
Yeah, she definitely needed to find something different for this album.
***
Trailing after the dozen others touring the facility, Naomi absorbed the information the guide provided. She admired the fact that despite the escort, they didn’t intrude on any of the group therapy sessions. A scarred veteran named Logan Cavanaugh led the physical therapy tour—she wrote the name down on the pad of notes she compiled for Brent. A position paper she planned to write in trochaic tetrameter, it would drive her brother nuts and fulfill her promise at the same time.
A win-win in her book.
If the idea of Mike’s Place impressed her during the opening ceremonies, her current visit left her floored.
“Miss Sparks?” A woman beckoned her away from the group. “I’m Rebecca—”
“Ranier, I remember.” They shook hands and Naomi smiled. “Sorry, I was a little caught up in the guide’s story. He’s got a great voice.”
“Who, Damon? He can tell stories all day, but it can’t compare with his cooking. If you’ll come with me?” She motioned to a side hallway. “Luke sends his apologies, but we’ve had some issues with the new construction across the highway and he had to discuss it with the foreman.”
“Not a problem. I actually think the tour was a great idea. I’m sure Brent will be sorry he missed it.” Naomi followed her into a well-appointed office.
Decorated in dark woods, the room screamed masculinity. A floor-to-ceiling window overlooking an atrium offered a tremendous amount of light. Rebecca bypassed the desk and led her back to a comfortable sitting area.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you. We had coffee down in the mess and a chance to talk to some of the veterans. You have an amazing facility here.” Naomi crossed one leg over the other.
“Thank you, I don’t do much more than handle our publicity and fundraise, the credit goes to Luke and his men. They work tirelessly to make this place better every day. They know what to do and how to help—and when they don’t, they know who to bring in.”
“I’ve never been one to beat around the bush, Ms. Ranier—”
“Rebecca, please.”
“Only if you call me Naomi.”
They shared
“Nope.”
“Captain. Marine. Tall.”
She snorted. “Brent, you do realize that most of the Marines I know are taller than I am, right? You included?” Four brothers, her father, three uncles, two cousins, and all of her grandfathers were Marines. She couldn’t turn around without tripping over one.
“Luke Dexter, the guy who started Mike’s Place in Dallas? You went with us to the grand opening ceremony.”
“Okay. I remember Mike’s Place.” The facility sat on a gorgeous campus that mingled military and civilian in a seamless blending. The swanky party to celebrate its opening for veterans and their families had been pretty fun, too.
“Great. They’re planning some fundraising events over the next few months, and I am scheduled to attend, but….”
“You can’t?” It was a guess.
“Unfortunately, it’s just a matter of bad timing.”
“You know they have golf courses in Texas.” He’d never cancel if he could help it, but she liked teasing him.
“Actually Ryleigh might be ovulating and….”
“Oh. Stop!” She let out a squeal. “Too much information.”
He laughed and she scrubbed a hand over her face, the idea permanently burned into her brain. She would need bleach to get it out. “I will go. I promise. Just never mention why you can’t again.”
“You are the best. I’ll have my office book your tickets and make all the arrangements.”
“No problem. Really happy to help.” They chatted for a few minutes more and then he had to go to a meeting. Sitting up, she tossed the handset onto the bed and looked at the song list again. Her producer sent a wide variety of songs and themes available. But none of them touched her. Hitting play on the next one, she grimaced.
Yeah, she definitely needed to find something different for this album.
***
Trailing after the dozen others touring the facility, Naomi absorbed the information the guide provided. She admired the fact that despite the escort, they didn’t intrude on any of the group therapy sessions. A scarred veteran named Logan Cavanaugh led the physical therapy tour—she wrote the name down on the pad of notes she compiled for Brent. A position paper she planned to write in trochaic tetrameter, it would drive her brother nuts and fulfill her promise at the same time.
A win-win in her book.
If the idea of Mike’s Place impressed her during the opening ceremonies, her current visit left her floored.
“Miss Sparks?” A woman beckoned her away from the group. “I’m Rebecca—”
“Ranier, I remember.” They shook hands and Naomi smiled. “Sorry, I was a little caught up in the guide’s story. He’s got a great voice.”
“Who, Damon? He can tell stories all day, but it can’t compare with his cooking. If you’ll come with me?” She motioned to a side hallway. “Luke sends his apologies, but we’ve had some issues with the new construction across the highway and he had to discuss it with the foreman.”
“Not a problem. I actually think the tour was a great idea. I’m sure Brent will be sorry he missed it.” Naomi followed her into a well-appointed office.
Decorated in dark woods, the room screamed masculinity. A floor-to-ceiling window overlooking an atrium offered a tremendous amount of light. Rebecca bypassed the desk and led her back to a comfortable sitting area.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you. We had coffee down in the mess and a chance to talk to some of the veterans. You have an amazing facility here.” Naomi crossed one leg over the other.
“Thank you, I don’t do much more than handle our publicity and fundraise, the credit goes to Luke and his men. They work tirelessly to make this place better every day. They know what to do and how to help—and when they don’t, they know who to bring in.”
“I’ve never been one to beat around the bush, Ms. Ranier—”
“Rebecca, please.”
“Only if you call me Naomi.”
They shared