Back in the Soldier's Arms (44 page)
Read Back in the Soldier's Arms Online
Authors: Soraya Lane,Karina Bliss
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary
As he pulled in the billowing fabric, they arrived panting. “That was so cool, mister,” one of them said.
He unclipped the harness, bundled the chute. “You two live close by?”
“Behind the school.” The taller one jerked his head at a house beyond the trees. He was about fourteen with a friendly, open face. “I’m Simon Craft and this is my brother, Billy.”
&#xielÁ€†201C;Can you do me a favor, Simon?”
“Sure.”
“Will you take the chute and gear to your house? I’ll send someone back for them soon.” “Heck, yeah.”
Removing his helmet, Dan stripped off his jumpsuit to the tux underneath. The younger boy’s eyes widened like saucers. “Are you James Bond?”
Dan looked down at his tux—crumpled and streaked with dried dirt and blood—and laughed. There had been no time to clean anything but his hands and face. And even that hadn’t made much improvement. There was a graze across one cheekbone, a bruise on the bridge of his nose where the pack had hit him. And yet he felt … free. Alive and exhilarated.
“No, son, I’m a farmer and I’m late for my wedding. I’ll come back and tell you about it later.” He handed the bundle to the older boy. “Take good care of it.”
Simon’s skinny arms tightened around it. “I will.”
It was 4:25 p.m. Dan broke into a run.
AT 4:29 P.M. JO’S HEART leaped as the church door banged open, the sound echoing around the interior. A few people stood in the pews stretching their legs, most still sat, but every head turned. Delwyn burst in, wearing her midnight-blue bridesmaid dress—apparently Dan had balked at slimming black—and hauling Wayne behind her.
“Sorry … sorry I’m so late. Have you been waiting forever?” Pushing Wayne into one of the pews she flew up the aisle, her shoes clattering on the wooden floor, and holding up her ring finger to Jo. After giving her an excited hug, she glanced around puzzled. “Where’s the groom?”
Disappointment crushed the last of Jo’s courage. Dropping her bag, she sank down on the altar step, her gown spreading around her. “Okay,” she said to Ross. “Call for reinforcements.”
The best man opened his cell, hesitated and then snapped it close. “Or we could give him ten more minutes?”
No way could she let Ross Coltrane win this game of chicken. Jo held out her hands and let him pull her to her feet. For a moment she tightened her grip. “Thanks.”
“It’s only because I don’t want to be the stand-in.” They smiled at each other.
Incredulous, Pat glanced from Ross to Jo. “This has gone far enough. Dan could be lying unconscious somewhere … hurt … bleeding. I won’t allow it.”
Herman put an arm around Jo’s shoulder. “Ten more minutes,” he said to Pat.
“No, this is ridiculous.” Pat appealed to the congregation. “Who’s on my side?”
Debate broke out, growing in volume as contrary opinions were aired. Jo nearly missed the ring of her cell phone. She dived for her bag. “Hello?”
“Why did you do it?” Dan asked.
Throat tight she turned her back on the congregation, which hushed as people realized she was on a call.
“I thought,” she croaked, started again. “I thought you needed this.” Her next words came lasÁ€†in a rush. “Tell me you’re okay. Please … you can dump me after that. I just need to know you’re safe.”
“I’m okay,” he called from somewhere behind her. Spinning around, Jo saw him standing at the church entrance. She gulped as she took in his appearance.
“My suit,” Barry said faintly, from the end of one pew.
Dan shrugged. “I told you taupe wasn’t my color.”
The single-breasted black jacket and trousers were rumpled and muddy, there was a rip on one knee and the shiny waistcoat and tie were stained with brown watermarks.
The white shirt had seen better days and the silk kerchief was a limp rag in the breast pocket. His hair was tangled, his jaw unshaven. A cut across the bridge of his nose was blooming into a bruise that suggested he’d have a black eye tomorrow.
He looked terrible.
He looked wonderful.
Under all the dirt and bruises Jo saw the kid who’d laughed when she’d punched him, who refused to be scared off from being her friend, her sidekick, her childhood rival. The soul mate who would shelter her when she needed refuge and spur her on when she faced challenges. A man as solid as a rock.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ross’s shoulders slump in relief.
“You’re back,” she whispered.
Dan tossed the cell to the usher and grinned, his teeth very white against his tanned face. “You don’t get rid of me that easy … I’d have been here earlier but I missed a jump across a ditch and twisted my ankle. I had to hobble the last half mile. So—” he raised an eyebrow “—we getting married or what?”
With a small cry, Jo flew down the aisle and hurled herself into his waiting arms, heedless of her dress. Only when she went to kiss him did he hold her away. “If you ever,” he said sternly, “ever do anything as crazy as that again I’ll—”
Jo closed the distance and pressed her mouth fervently to his. It was a kiss that tasted of river water and dust, a kiss that promised a future.
“Shep, what the hell took you so long?” Ross said when they finally broke apart. “Incidentally, I couldn’t find Jo’s ring anywhere. I hope you have it.”
She laughed. He hadn’t told her that. Maybe the Iceman had some cool in him after all.
Draping an arm around her, Dan shook his head. “You’re fired, Coltrane. I need a best man I can trust. Lewis Davis, get up here.”
In one of the front pews, Lewis stood up, shooting a nervous look at Ross, who winked at him. Lewis grinned. Beside him, Claire reached for a hanky.
“Obviously we can’t get married now—not without a ring,” Jo said provocatively.
Dan’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, ye of little faith. Your ring’s at the jewelers but I found this in the trash can outside. Thought it would be perfect, given our initial contract.”
He reached in his pocket, then opened a dirty hand. A beer can tab glinted in the light streaming through the stained-glass window.
Jo inspected it. “Perfect,” she agreed and turned toward201Á€† the altar. Paused. “The chicken dance won’t really be playing at our reception, will it?”
Dan grinned and offered his arm. “Let’s get married so you can find out.”
Back in the Soldier’s Arms/Here Comes the Groom
Read on for a sneak preview of Carol Marinelli’s
CR!93BHZ3MAHS4NVAVVWQG1QCZMZ0ZB
PUTTING ALICE BACK TOGETHER!
Hugh hired bikes!
You know that saying: ‘It’s like riding a bike, you never forget'?
I’d never learnt in the first place.
I never got past training wheels.
‘You’ve got limited upper-body strength?’ He stopped and looked at me.
I had been explaining to him as I wobbled along and tried to stay up that I really had no centre of balance. I mean really had no centre of balance. And when we decided, fairly quickly, that a bike ride along the Yarra perhaps, after all, wasn’t the best activity (he’d kept insisting I’d be fine once I was on, that you never forget), I threw in too my other disability. I told him about my limited upper-body strength, just in case he took me to an indoor rock-climbing centre next. I’d honestly forgotten he was a doctor, and he seemed worried, like I’d had a mini-stroke in the past or had mild cerebral palsy or something.
‘God, Alice, I’m sorry—you should have said. What happened?’
And then I had had to tell him that it was a self-diagnosis.
‘Well, I could never get up the ropes at the gym at school.’ We were pushing our bikes back. ‘I can’t blow-dry the back of my hair …’ He started laughing.
Not like Lisa who was laughing at me—he was just laughing and so was I. We got a full refund because we’d only been on our bikes ten minutes, but I hadn’t failed. If anything, we were getting on better.
And better.
We went to St Kilda to the lovely bitty shops and I found these miniature Russian dolls. They were tiny, made of tin or something, the biggest no bigger than my thumbnail. Every time we opened them, there was another tiny one, and then another, all reds and yellows and greens.
They were divine.
We were facing each other, looking down at the palm of my hand, and our heads touched.
If I put my hand up now, I can feel where our heads touched.
I remember that moment.
I remember it a lot.
Our heads connected for a second and it was alchemic; it was as if our minds kissed hello.
I just have to touch my head, just there at the very spot and I can, whenever I want to, relive that moment.
So many times I do.
‘Get ththeÀ¸‡em.’ Hugh said, and I would have, except that little bit of tin cost more than a hundred dollars and, though that usually wouldn’t have stopped me, I wasn’t about to have my card declined in front of him.
I put them back.
‘Nope.’ I gave him a smile. ‘Gotta stop the impulse spending.’
We had lunch.
Out on the pavement and I can’t remember what we ate, I just remember being happy. Actually, I can remember: I had Caesar salad because it was the lowest carb thing I could find. We drank water and I do remember not giving it a thought.
I was just thirsty.
And happy.
He went to the loo and I chatted to a girl at the next table, just chatted away. Hugh was gone for ages and I was glad I hadn’t demanded Dan from the universe, because I would have been worried about how long he was taking.
Do I go on about the universe too much? I don’t know, but what I do know is that something was looking out for me, helping me to be my best, not to **** this up as I usually do. You see, we walked on the beach, we went for another coffee and by that time it was evening and we went home and he gave me a present.
Those Russian dolls.
I held them in my palm, and it was the nicest thing he could have done for me.
They are absolutely my favourite thing and I’ve just stopped to look at them now. I’ve just stopped to take them apart and then put them all back together again and I can still feel the wonder I felt on that day.
He was the only man who had bought something for me, I mean something truly special. Something beautiful, something thoughtful, something just for me.
© Carol Marinelli 2012
Available at millsandboon.co.uk
Back in the Soldier’s Arms/Here Comes the Groom
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II B.V./S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.
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