What Part of Marine Don't You Understand? (The Challenge Series) Read Free Page B

the songs she wanted, she couldn’t afford downtime. “I have samples to review, but I can do that here and you will get a very thorough report.”
    Brent chuckled. “Just not in Dr. Seuss rhymes? One Marine, Two Marine, Red Marine, Blue Marine was enough.”
    “That will teach you to fail to read what I send you before you walk into a meeting.” She’d almost forgotten she’d done that when she’d gone with their father to tour the Green Zone in Baghdad. “But I promise, I will not plagiarize Dr. Seuss this time.” Not when she could use rhyming meter from another century.
    “Uh huh. Thanks for doing this, kiddo.”
    “Anytime, Mr. Congressman. Now go earn a paycheck, us little people have real work to do.” He laughed and said goodbye. Accessing the Wi-Fi, she started her search for the 1Night Stand service.
    Who knew such a thing existed ?

 
     
    Chapter Three
     
     
    Matt ran the trail with Jethro bounding along next to him. In the previous two weeks, he felt like he’d made more progress than in the whole two years he’d bounced in and out of Mike’s Place. He didn’t break into the long mile runs he indulged in against advice during his first stay, but followed orders to manage a steady pace. At the mile marker, he slowed to a walk. Gulping oxygen, he walked off the burn. The nausea in his stomach ebbed. Breathing exercises helped, but nothing replaced the heat of feeling his muscles flex. He missed workouts that pushed him to his limit.
    The therapist insisted on a walk-run-walk regimen. Impatience curled through him, but he fought the urge to ignore her and run again. Retired sergeant Candy Jefferson might look like someone’s grandmother, but she cowed the most belligerent of her patients with a stern eye. He didn’t feel like testing her to see if she could back up her attitude.
    She probably could.
    “Hey, man,” Damon rounded the curve ahead of him, walking in the opposite direction. Sweat soaked through his gray-green sweatshirt.
    “Hey. I thought you were in Los Angeles.” He and his girlfriend were a firm item, though rumor had it Damon had asked her to marry him and she’d said no.
    Twice.
    That had to sting.
    “Next week. Helena’s court case moved up the docket. So she’ll be tied up for the next couple of days.” Damon pivoted, falling into step with him. “You want to get a beer tonight?”
    It sounded good, but that meant hitting a bar. He wanted to avoid those triggers, particularly since he’d been doing so well. “I’m good. Maybe we can hang out when you get back later? Catch a game here?”
    “Sure.” Restaurant owner, chef, Marine and regular volunteer at Mike’s Place, Damon was also one of his best buds. “You okay?”
    Matt winced at the absolute caution hovering in the question. Tired of being the quirky, difficult friend, he needed to get his shit together. You can’t get upset at the questions. They ask them because they care . The mantra helped, but only a little.
    “I’m actually pretty good.” Discuss your healing process. It’s natural and nothing to feel ashamed of . “Up to a full mile on the run, getting out more because I’m not holing up in the apartment when I can be outdoors. Still not so good with large crowds of people.”
    He waited for awkward discomfort to stilt the conversation.
    “Cool.” Damon rolled his head from side to side and extended his arm behind his head, gripping the elbow for another stretch. “Glad to hear it. If crowds are the issue, how about I swing by with a six-pack this weekend and we just watch the game?”
    The knot of tension in his shoulder blades loosened. “Sounds good.”
    “I gotta jet. I’m on opening today and I want to get the kitchen set up.” Damon gripped Matt’s shoulder. “Keep fighting the fight, man. We got your back.” He gave Jethro a pat and turned to jog toward the parking lots.
    The easy acceptance stunned him, a solid kick in the ass to his confidence. “That wasn’t so bad.”