Meagan's Marine (Halos & Horns) (10 page)

CHAPTER
14

Hovering Marine and a Message

Meagan wiped down the bar with a
cleanser and tried to stifle a huge yawn. Of course, her action elicited a
comment from Mitch, who’d kept his eagle eye on her ever since she’d given him
the reason for the band aid in the crook of her left arm. He hadn’t approved of
her donating plasma and had offered to buy her tires.

“Rough night?” He sidled easily up
beside her.

“No rougher than usual.” She clipped her
answer, unwilling to give him any more ammunition against her twice-weekly
visits to the center. Maybe she did feel a little run down, but the extra money
sure was coming in handy. She’d already replaced the two front tires, and felt
much better about driving her son around. God knew she felt constant guilt for
not being able to provide Buck with the best of everything. She could only do
what she could do.

“You keeping hydrated?” Mitch nodded in
approval at the gallon jug of water she pulled from under the counter. “How
about food? Are you getting plenty of proteins and carbs?”

“Yes, daddy.” She laughed at his
furrowed brow. “I didn’t realize you were such a worrier.”

“I’m not usually, Megs, but you’re
already neck deep in drama and problems that are beyond your control.”

“That’s right, but this one thing I can
control. It’s a way to keep my entire head out of the water, instead of just my
nose.”

“Well, yeah, but you, weak and washed
out from giving plasma, hell, that’s just one more reason to worry about you,
piled on top of everything else.”

 “Who asked you to worry about me?
I sure as hell don’t remember appointing you as my body guard
or
my
guardian angel.”

He leaned over, his heated, brown eyed
gaze boring into hers. “Nobody. But if you did, I’d jump at the chance.”

She took a step back, not feeling
threatened, so much as tempted by his nearness. The lack of a man in her life
had begun to tell on her. The first several months after Chris died, she’d
grieved so hard she couldn’t possibly think of another man. Once Buck had
arrived, she’d been too busy and exhausted to think about sex, or the lack of
it. So where did that leave her? With a son nearly four years old who’d never
known his own father, cohabitating with the ghost of a dead Marine…and horny as
hell. The very least Chris could do is appear in some form of physical
manifestation and…and…take
care
of her. The thought parched her and she
lifted the gallon jug of water to her lips, hoping to quench her thirst.

“I can’t help myself, Meg. I see you
with Buck, and…and I just…want to take care of you.”

Meagan sucked in water, choked, coughed
as water spewed from her nose and mouth. She covered her mouth with a napkin as
she coughed and choked even more.

“You all right?” He slapped her on the
back then seemed to think better of it. “Raise your arms,” he said, reaching
for her forearms as she shoved his hands aside.

“Stop! I’m all right. I’m all
right!”
She gave one last cough and took a step away. Away from the headiness of
him…his smell, his searching eyes, his brick shit house of a body that made her
want to run her hands up and down the length of him and…touch him…touch him all
over.

She stared him down, wishing just once
he’d back off a little. “You know what, Mitch?”

“I know lots of things, Megs.”

She frowned at the nickname he’d only
recently insisted on calling her. She refused to tell him that she’d never let
anyone get away with calling her that. Her dad used to call her that and it
drove her crazy.

“You know far too much about my life.”

He shrugged. “We’re friends, and now
we’re co-workers. That’s not unusual.”

“The things you know about my life are
extremely unusual. And the only reason you know so darn much about it is
because you’re relentlessly nosey.” She rinsed out the rag and threw it in the
laundry pile with the others before leaning over to grab her purse from under
the counter. “I’m outta here.”

“I am too, what a coincidence.”

She turned at the back door to stare him
down.

“What? I was off an hour ago. I hung around
to make sure you didn’t pass out on the job from the lack of plasma in your
body.”

She rolled her eyes and pushed the door
wide to step out. “I should never have told you.”

He followed her out and grunted his
disapproval. “I’m sure as hell glad you did. I think it’s wise to keep others
informed in case something goes wrong, don’t you?” His quick stride got him to
her car first and he opened her door for her.

“I’m beginning to think it’s wiser to
keep my mouth shut around you. You’re beginning to hover.”

“Like a
helo
?”
He extended his arms and imitated the sound of a helicopter.

She gave an adamant shake of her head.
“I was thinking more along the lines of a mother hen.”

He laughed. “That ain’t
gonna
do. Hell, the least you could have done was compared
me to a rooster.”

Meagan settled into her car and buckled
her seatbelt. “God, I hate roosters.”

“I don’t know why. Roosters are the
alarm clocks of the barnyard.”

“Exactly…all that cockiness and 4 a.m.
crowing, and they never even produce a darn egg. They’re useless animals,
unless you butcher them young.”

“Without roosters, you wouldn’t have
chicks.”

“True, but they’re kind of like bulls.
You only need one and then, only when you need new chicks. You’re better off
being compared to a hen. Much more practical—”

“So you’re saying you
need
a hen
in your life.” He lifted his arms triumphantly. “Thank you for proving my point
so eloquently for me.”

Meagan started her car and reached over
to grab the door handle. “Quit hovering.” She pulled the door closed and drove
off, leaving him behind.

Several seconds after easing her car out
onto the street, she watched in her rear view mirror for the headlights that
she knew would appear and follow her all the way home.
Still hovering.
She
wondered if he even realized she knew. She caught her own gaze in the mirror
and smiled, somehow knowing it wouldn’t make a difference to Mitch, one way or
the other.

****

Meagan tiptoed into Buck’s room and
stood still at the side of his bed for a moment. Other than a slight nip in the
air due to a cool front that had passed through, everything seemed normal. She
reached over to pass a hand lovingly through her son’s thick hair. She kissed
his forehead, filling her lungs with the smell of baby shampoo and soaped up
little boy. God, she loved this kid.  She sat on his bed and rubbed his
back through the covers, allowing the warmth of his nearness to comfort her
soul and reassure her of his safety.

Now who’s hovering?
The
thought came to her suddenly, and she had to smile.

Light poured in from the hallway,
illuminating the area over his bed where his first baby portrait hung on the
wall. He was one month old in the portrait and already a beautiful child. But
then, Buck had been one of those rare infants, born full-faced and handsome at
birth, causing all the delivery room nurses to comment and gush over him. One
nurse had called him “Angel Face” insisting it was rare to see a child born
into such beauty. All Meagan knew was that she’d adored that child since the
moment she’d laid eyes on him. He’d been her sole motivation for getting on
with the business of living from the second she’d lost his father.

 She stood, arching her aching back
and walked to the window to check the seal and lock. Of course, no double paned
window could keep a paranormal drop in temperature from chilling the room, but
this
,
she could control. After pushing the curtain aside, she stood there staring at
the moon, full and bright—bright enough to transform the night sky from the
usual pitch black to a hazy gray. “Bright enough out there to play a game of
baseball,” she muttered lowly, recalling one of Christopher’s sayings.

The chill came suddenly and without
warning, altering her son’s room from cozy comfortable to uncharacteristically
icy in a matter of seconds. Hugging her arms and oddly disturbed at her lack of
shock at the occurrence, she released a long, slow breath. Within seconds, it
turned the window into a foggy blank canvas. She reached up with a closed fist
to make an infant’s footprint with the side of her hand, just as she’d done
when she was a kid. She’d just added the last tiny fingerprint for a little
toe, when the lines appeared on the icy pane. Lines that turned into capital
letters, then into a single word. N-A-M-E.

The back of her neck prickled as the
fine hairs stood up and she gasped, spinning around to make sure she was alone.
Buck remained tucked in his bed, still deep in sleep.

“Chris?” The word came out in a hoarse
whisper and she cleared her throat. “Chris, are you here?”

She waited, heard her own breath coming
out in short puffs in the silent room. “His name is Christopher Buckley…I named
him after you, baby. He’s our son.”

She jumped as his Marine portrait landed
face-down on the dresser beside her. Was he angry she’d named their child after
him? She stared out into the emptiness of the room. “He’s yours, Chris. I swear
he is. I emailed you to let you know, but you were on patrol. Your last
patrol.”

In an instant, the chill dissipated,
leaving her shaken and alone in the room, other than her sleeping child. She
crumpled to the floor and buried her face in her knees to cry silent tears of
deep-boned misery. Surely, this couldn’t be the cause of his appearance?
Anger…because she’d given Buck his name? He’d always said when they had a son,
he wanted to call him Buck.

Meagan allowed herself a few more
minutes of tears before wiping her eyes and getting her emotions under control.
She pulled herself up and left the room, wishing there was some way to
communicate with Chris that didn’t leave her feeling so desolate and drained.

She showered quickly and crawled into
bed, but deep, restful sleep eluded her. When she did manage to fall asleep, it
was fitfully and restless, dreaming of an angry, morose Chris…a complete
stranger to her. Waking in a cold sweat, she felt an immediate sense of relief
at ridding herself of the dark presence in that dream. Only to be replaced by a
deep-seated guilt over feeling that way about a man who had given her nothing
but happiness in previous years.

Moving mechanically, she gathered her
things and prepared to leave the house, assured that
Niki
would watch Buck for Meagan’s trip to the plasma center. Draping her purse
strap over her shoulder, she grabbed her keys and yanked the door open.

Mitch stood before her, looking totally
tantalizing in faded jeans and a plain white T-shirt and wearing a Saints cap.

“I was just leaving.”

****

One look at Meagan’s face told an entire
story of a long, sleepless night. “I see that…where to?” Her tight-lipped
response, along with the electronic e-reader sticking out of her purse gave him
the answer.  “You look too run down to be going to the plasma center.
Maybe you should skip today.”

“I can’t…I need the money.”

He stepped aside as she pushed passed him.
“I told you, I can loan you any money you need.” He grimaced at her irritable
reply.

“I’m not your charity case, Mitchell.”

“I didn’t say you were. But if you need
help—”

Niki
appeared at the door. “Hold off on the bickering you two. We have a problem. I
need to get to work, Meagan. Amanda
Lapoint
went into
labor two weeks early and screwed up everyone’s schedules.”

Meagan placed her hands on her hips and
made a face. “Oh my God, the nerve of that baby messing up our plans!”

A grin appeared on
Niki’s
face. “I know, right?”

Meagan laughed then quickly sobered.
“There goes my last chance for a second donation this week. That means I’m out
forty-five bucks from this month’s promotion.”

Niki
slapped Mitch on the back. “Maybe Sergeant Major
Oorah
,
here—”

“—That’s Master Sergeant
Oorah
to you, ma’am,” he said, touching the brim of his
cap.

“Whatever!”
Niki
waved off his correction. “Maybe Mitch can help us out by watching Buck until
you get back from your appointment.”

Meagan gave one violent shake of her head.
“Absolutely not.”

Mitch stepped in front of her, insulted
by her dejection. “Why the hell not?”

“Because he’s my son and I don’t leave
him with just anyone.” She glared at him, her mouth set and unapologetic.

“Just anyone? You saw how good he and I
got along at the park. He’s crazy about me.”

“You ever babysat before?” she asked.
“That’s you, the child, and no one else around.”