Military Romance Collection: Contemporary Soldier Alpha Male Romance (167 page)

Chapter 1

“Izzy, you can’t imagine just how much I love you,” Doran said, his slight Irish accent tinged with emotion. “How much I’d love to lay you down and kiss every inch of your body.”

His lips drew close to hers, so close she could taste his breath and feel his stubble on her chin. She wanted to answer with something sensual and sexy, but her limbs froze under the pressure. She longed for his kiss deep in her bones - every inch of her wanted him.

“Are you not awake yet?” he whispered.

“What?” she replied, finding her voice.

“Isadora, you know you should be awake by now.”

“Wha…”

BANG! A book slammed right near her head, making Isadora Rosellini shoot up from her bed. Her father, a tall-for-an-Italian man with stocky shoulders, stood above her with a deep frown. She examined the room, wondering where Doran had gone.
He was never here at all, you idiot. And you wouldn’t want him here anyway.

“Do you remember that we have to pick your brother up from the airport?” her father asked.

“He’s not my brother,
Mario
” she answered, rubbing her eyes to wipe away the sleep.

“I’m your dad. Call me ‘Dad.’”

“Why do I even have to go? Can’t I just go back to sleep?”

“Your mother wants you to go.”

She fell back into her bed and held the pillow over her face, “Ugh, she’s not my mom.”

“Excuse me?”

She removed the pillow, “I’m feeling a bit under the weather. I think I can’t go.”

“I want you downstairs in ten minutes.” With that, he stomped out of the room and slammed the door.

Isadora sighed and stared at the glow in the dark stars still stuck to the ceiling as a reminder of her lost innocence. She once dreamed of fairy tales and SpongeBob, but now she dreamt naughty fantasies of her step-brother. She chuckled to herself, feeling overdramatic. Her orange cat, Tess, meowed at the end of the bed.

“Ten minutes isn’t enough time to do anything, Tessy,” she said softly to the cat. “It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s only Doran.”

She rose from her bed, still trying to wake herself up (and forget the passion of her dream.) Her legs bent down so her hands could grab a favorite pair of jeans from the floor. She smoothly glided to her open dresser to pull out a black v-neck t-shirt and a blue sweater. She quickly slapped on some makeup and gave herself a long look as the cat swirled around her legs.

As a child, she used to travel with her mother, Gaea, to work. Gaea worked as a medical transcriptionist for a neurologist firm, and the employees would say, “There goes little Gaea following close behind.” As Isadora grew, she saw more of her mother in her looks. She shared the hazel eyes and the dark, long hair, but her mother had a certain grace, an elegance, Isadora never thought she’d see again.

“Isadora! We have to go!” Mario’s voice boomed through the house.

“I’m so excited,” she said under her breath. “This is going to be so fun.”

Gaea died from, ironically enough, brain cancer the day after Isadora turned eleven. She thought her father would never remarry, that they’d live together in shared grief for the rest of their lives. But after four years, things changed. Mario met a new woman, an Irish-American divorcee named Angela, and all bets were off. It would’ve been fine if she didn’t bring her bratty son, Doran with her. He made the worse mess of all.

Doran had been living with his father in Ireland until he got into some trouble - his father sent him home to Angela for “better raising.” Though Mario never had a son or a troublemaking child, he took the boy in with open arms. Isadora’s arms were not as abiding - the only family member she wanted was her mother, and that would never happen again. Truthfully, she thought she’d never stop mourning – she’d only better adapt to being alone.

When Doran went off to join the Navy, Isadora relished the day. Although he’d grown to be a handsome young man with a perfectly chiseled face and eyes so blue she could swim in them, his attitude made her skin crawl. He had this smirk that made her want to smack him (even if it also made butterflies burst in her stomach and scrape nervous circles on her insides), and he always knew the cruelest thing to say at any given time. He was one of those kids that smoked behind the school with other degenerates. He had no future.

Isadora hated him.

She grabbed her headphones on the way out the door. She did not want to hear her father and her step-mother sing all of Doran’s praises on the way to the airport. Since he’d joined the Navy SEALS, he could do no wrong. She wanted to remind them about the time he tied a firecracker to their dog on July 4th (thankfully the dog lived through the embarrassment, but the hair on his tail looked burnt black for the rest of his life), or when he stole a Harley Davidson only to drive it into the local lake. The parental figures never wanted to be reminded of these stories, however; they only wanted to praise his few good deeds.

Thankfully, the earphones made the drive to the airport not only quiet, but also quite peaceful. She lulled herself into a pleasant sleep to make the hour and a half trip more palatable. She dreamt again of Doran being so close to her, she could feel the heat radiate off his body. This time, he leaned forward and kissed her, sending an electric current surge through her body. His hands, smoother than she expected, walked up her legs and under her skirt. Before he could finish his exploration, the car stopped and shook Isadora awake. She frowned, a blush still burning on her cheeks.

“I hope you don’t expect to listen to those earphones while Doran’s here,” her father hissed.

              “Well, I was going to go jogging with them, but usually just listening to earphones doesn’t do anything worthwhile,” she shrugged.

              Angela chuckled while Mario frowned. Isadora thought her joke was quite clever. She laughed at it in her mind. They walked out together like a picture-perfect family toward the airport. Personally, Isadora hated airports. They felt sterile and oppressive, like how she imagined the world of
1984
to look - travelers always looked expressionless, bored, and unhappy while waiting for their respective planes.

              One could argue, she thought, that the emotion came out when travelers returned home, but that wasn’t always true. Sometimes the travelers still looked like the walking dead. And that, really, she couldn’t ignore (perhaps for fear of an impending zombie invasion stemming from her youth. Perhaps she could blame her father for showing her
Dawn of the Dead
too early and ruining her life.)

              She sighed, deducing her irritability came from being woken up both rudely and too early.  “Hey Dad, can I get a coffee?”

“We are waiting for your brother,” Mario snapped. “Can’t you wait?”

“One, he’s not my brother,” Isadora snapped back. “Two, if you want me to be nice, I need coffee now.”

“Let the girl get her coffee,” Angela swatted her husband’s shoulder and pulled out her wallet. “In fact, get us all one too. Doran likes plain black coffee. You know what your dad and I like.”  Isadora looked at her blankly with the money in her hand. “I’d like a caramel macchiato, and your father will have a hazelnut latte.”

“Great, I’ll get right on that. I’ll be back.”

Isadora walked swiftly to the first coffee shop she saw. As she approached, it seemed like a swarm of tired people crossed to the coffee shop as well, leaving her in an entirely too long line for her irritation level. She gave heavy sighs as she waited behind a professional looking middle-aged man.

“Do you have a problem?” the man asked after Isadora sighed for the third time.

“My brother is returning from the military overseas, so I’m just a little impatient,” she responded. “Trying to get him and my family some coffee before he gets here.”

The man gave a surprised and apologetic face, “Please, go ahead of me. And thank your brother for his service.”

She nodded, giving him a grateful smile. Using the same story, she somehow managed to reach the front of the line. Part of her felt bad about being so manipulative, but another part of her
needed the coffee
.

“Hi, I’d like mediums of a caramel macchiato, a hazelnut latte, and a dirty chai with two shots,” she gave a pleasant smile to the cashier.

“Anything else?” the cashier, his nametag reading “Aaron,” asked.

“Yeah, could I also get a small black coffee?” She leaned in, bringing the cashier in so she could whisper. “Could you also put some grounds in there? It’s really weird, but my brother loves it.”

“Um sure. We can do that.”

“Thanks. He’s been a little loopy after going overseas for the military.”

“This is for a service member? You know what, I’d love to give this to you for no charge.”

“Thanks so much.”

Isadora received her coffees and felt absolutely fantastic about the whole thing. She’d return to her dad and step-mom, play a cruel trick on her hated step-brother, and still get her coffee. All sounded right to plan.
But what will Dad do if he figures out you messed with Doran’s drink?

She frowned. Maybe the plan wasn’t so great after all.

She approached her father and step-mother, noticing that Doran stood with them. He looked older and even handsomer than he had before (she guessed it was because he grew more stubble than he had when they were teenagers.) His hair looked darker and redder than she remembered; further, he wore a smile she never remembered from him. He looked absolutely elated to be speaking to his mother when he used to always have a brooding look.

              She breathed in and out, drank from her dirty chai, and approached completely. Doran looked up just as she walked up. His elated smile wavered for a split second as he unconsciously looked her up and down. In that split moment, he looked confused and awed at the same time.

              “Ah, there you are, Isadora,” Mario grinned amiably (
very unlike him
) and wrapped his arm around here. “I thought maybe you’d run off.”

              “I thought about it,” she gave a fake smile herself, then handed each of them their coffees. “Welcome back, Doran.”

              “Thank you, Izzy,” he responded, taking the cup from her. “I appreciate you getting me coffee.”

              “You’re very welcome, brother.” She knew she laid the pleasantries on thick. He took a sip of his coffee and swallowed hard. “How is it?”

              “Fine,” he responded. “Well, should we get out of here, huh? I’m starving for some of Mom’s home cooking.”

              The parents talked enthusiastically with the returned son, seemingly more than ecstatic to see him. She strayed behind as they all walked together while chatting and laughing. She drank her chai curmudgeonly, taking pleasure every time Doran took a labored drink.

They all piled into the car, the two "siblings" sitting next to each other in the back. Mario turned on the baseball game he's been missing and listened intently to the announcers. Though he played off well that he cared about others in public, when it came to baseball, he always had his priorities straight: baseball over everything.

“I love this coffee,” Doran whispered to his stepsister.

“So happy, brother,” she responded.

“I really like the extra kick of grounds in it too.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“There were quite a lot of coffee grounds in my coffee. As if someone requested it.”

“That’s messed up. Maybe you should go back.”

“What are you two whispering about?” Angela asked, looking back at them with a twinkle in her eye.

“I was just talking about how good my coffee is,” Doran grinned at his mother. “Izzy asked if she could try it, but I didn’t know if I wanted to give any of it up.”

“Oh, Doran. I didn’t teach you to be selfish.”

“I grew up a lot with Dad, and he did.”

“Share with your sister.”

“I’m not his…” Isadora started as Doran held the coffee in her face.

“Is the coffee really good?” Mario asked. “I might want to try it.”

“No, no,” Isadora and Doran said together.

“I mean, it might not be your style, Dad,” she waved her hand. “You like the sweet hazelnut stuff.”

“I have been thinking I should try black coffee though because it’s better for you,” her father continued. “Can I try it, Doran?”

Isadora took the coffee and chugged the rest of it, getting a mouthful of grounds in the process. She tried to hold back her gags as Doran explained “Izzy
selfishly
drank it all.” Angela lectured them for being too much like real siblings and bickering like “cats and dogs.” Isadora wanted to say that cats and dogs don’t really fight - cats mostly ignore dogs, who sometimes chase them. But she held her tongue. Mostly, she had to hold in the vomit bubbling up from her stomach.

She immediately regretted her decision to play a practical joke on her not-brother.

Chapter 2

“I don’t understand why you hate him,” Fiona, Isadora’s old friend and cubicle-mate, said. “I mean, he was kind of a jerk in high school, but he’s not now. Right?”

“I don’t know, he’s only been home for a few days,” Isadora responded, spinning around in her chair to show her complete lack of motivation for her work. “He did make me drink a whole lot of coffee grinds, which is pretty evil.”

“Yeah, except you gave him that coffee with the grounds in it after he came back from serving our country.
That’s
evil.”

“I have a lot of problems. I’ve made so many mistakes.”

“Blah blah. By the way, can I write an article about your brother?”

“I don’t know why you’d want to.”

“Cause he just came back from being a Navy SEAL overseas, and it’s interesting?”

“I don’t think it’s that interesting.”

“He’s also attractive. Do you think he’ll let you take pictures of him?”

“He probably will, but I don’t want to.”

“Stop being a jerk, Dora. Come on.”

Isadora turned back around to her computer, looking at the article she had to edit and design on the page. She did well at the local arts and general cool-things-about-town (as she liked to say) paper because she could do graphic design, copy-edit, and photograph. She didn’t write many because she didn’t like people enough to interview them. She’d tried that in college, and it just didn’t work out for her.

“I don’t know why I hate him so much,” she said, picking back up with the conversation. “Maybe because I relate him with my dad remarrying. I never really forgave him for that.”

“I like when you get really deep when you’re trying to procrastinate on your work. Do you have your brother’s number? I want to call him for the article.”

“He’s not my brother.” Isadora handed over her cell phone so Fiona could look.

“Did you know he texted you?” Fiona looked through the phone. “Like a few times?”

“I’m very busy and important.”

“Yeah, okay. Maybe I’ll call him from your phone and see what happens.”

“That’s stupid.”

Fiona raised Isadora’s phone and waited. Isadora pretended not to notice or care. One of the managing editors, Georgia Grant, walked up right then with an inquisitive frown.

“Is Fiona making a personal call when she’s on deadline?”

Fiona just waved her hand as a negation, “Hi, Doran. This is Fiona Mattson, Dora’s friend. I’m not the one who hasn’t texted you back, but I’ll let her know you’re annoyed.”

“Is Fiona making a personal call for
you
when she’s on deadline?”

“She’s going to do a story about my step-brother who just came back from being a Navy SEAL in Europe,” Isadora answered. “She used my phone for some dumb reason so he thought it was me.”

“Everything’s just fine, Doran. I was just wondering if I could write an article about you? I’m on deadline right now.”

“Why don’t you write the article, Dora?”

“I don’t like him very much.”

“No, no, that was someone else who sounds like Dora. She likes you fine.”

“This all doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Me either. I think he’s completely uninteresting.”

Fiona got up and held the phone away from her face, “You guys are jerks.” She walked out toward the upstairs patio outside.

“I think I had relevant questions for my reporter,” Georgia gave a displeased frown.

“I agree,” Isadora nodded.

“The story sounds good though. It’s a great idea. You should have thought of it.”

“I try not to talk to my step-brother if I can help it.”

“If you don’t like your family, why do you still live at home?”

Isadora frowned now. “I’m saving to buy a house.” Also, she was afraid if she lived alone, she might get murdered. But she figured that was an irrational fear and refused to speak it aloud.

“I didn’t move out until I met my wife. I was afraid if I lived alone, I’d be murdered.”

“Really? That’s a strange fear.”
Strangely adept, maybe.

Georgia shrugged, “I watch a lot of horror movies and true crime shows. Anyway, get on that story. We want to get a proof of the paper out pronto.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” Isadora watched her go, wondering if she could ever get as cool and wise as Georgia. She wasn’t sure she ever would.

Fiona returned with a curious look in her eye. “I think this story is going to take me a while.”

“Why is that?” Isadora responded, though she didn’t actually care.

“I don’t know, I think there’s something behind whatever he was doing over there.”

“I doubt it.”

“I don’t have time for your negativity right now. I’m on deadline.”

Isadora rolled her eyes and went back to work. She quickly finished editing several articles and started doing “research” for her job, which included search Twitter and reading anything interesting.

“Hey, Izzy,” a male voice said, taking her out of her Twitter-induced daze.  

She looked up to see Doran’s smiling face, “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I’ve been texting you, and you haven’t been replying, so I decided I’d just come down. Is Fiona around too? I thought maybe I’d take you ladies to lunch.”

“Fiona went out to do a story, I think.”

“I thought she was doing a story about me.”

“I think she needed to do more research.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, Doran. Why are you here talking to me right now?”

“I think I just told you.”

“I’m really busy right now, okay? I can’t go to lunch with you.”

“You’re really busy looking at cats on glass tables?”

She quickly closed her browser window. “Also with other things.”

“Come on, Izzy. You’ve been avoiding me since I got back.”

“Fine. Let me finish up what I’m doing, and we can go.”

“Okay.” He stood there awkwardly, waiting for her to finish.

“Can you like… go somewhere else while I do this?” She had to exit out of all the cat windows on her screen.

“I don’t think so.”

She huffed, deciding to just turn lock her computer so no one could see what she’d been looking at. She grabbed her purse and unceremoniously walked out of her cubicle, expecting Doran to follow. On her way out, she poked her head into Georgia’s open office to see Georgia and a tall, dark, and handsome man with glasses leaning over the proof of the next paper.

“Hey, I’m going to lunch,” Isadora said. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Dora, can I talk to you about the cover art for this paper when you get back? I have an idea, but it didn’t really work out for me,” the man said, looking up at her with a smile.

“Sure, Adam. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, we’re doing an article about all that graffiti that’s been going on downtown, but the pictures were awful.”

“So… you want me to take more pictures?”

“No, I want you to paint graffiti on one of our good pictures of downtown.”

“I might be able to do that. Let’s talk when I get back.”

“Maybe we could talk about it over dinner?”

“Maybe.”

“You guys are making me sick,” Georgia gave an irritated frown. “Go to lunch already.”

Isadora grinned and gestured for Doran to follow; instead, he walked into the room and held his hand out to Adam in introduction.

“Hi, I’m Doran. Izzy’s step-brother.”

Adam stared up confusedly, but Georgia shook and said, “Oh, hello Doran. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Georgia.”

“I’m Adam. We’re the managing editors,” Adam shook his hand as well.

“Are you taking Dora to lunch, Doran?”

“I am, Georgia. I haven’t seen a lot of her since I got back into the country, so I thought I’d take her out. Have you been here long, Alex?”

“My name is Adam, and yes. Georgia and I have been here since the beginning. Dora came here not long after we started. That’s why she does so much.” Adam winked at her, making her pale skin visibly blush. “And so well.”

“Okay, we are going to go. I’ll talk to you about the cover when I get back, Adam,” Isadora grabbed Doran’s arm and dragged him to the elevator. She pressed the button manically until it finally opened and pulled him inside. “What was that? Why are you being a jerk to my boss?”

“I wasn’t…” he tried to defend himself.

“You
were
. You’re acting like a jealous boyfriend. It’s not cute.”

“I guess I just haven’t had my coffee full of grounds yet today.”

She held back a chuckle. “The grounds do add a little extra spice.”

“I do enjoy chewing my drink.”

“It gives you more energy per capita.”

“That’s why I like it so much.”

They shared a smile as the elevator door opened. Together, they moved outside into the sunshine. Doran suggested they go to an Italian restaurant downtown,
Roselli’s
. Isadora shrugged, trying to make her good feelings toward him go away.

“So, are you and Artie close then?” Doran asked on their way to the restaurant.

“Who?” she answered.

“Your boss?”

“
Adam
and I get along pretty well, yeah. I’ve had a crush on him since college.” He stopped walking, just staring at her. “What?”

“Why would you tell me that?”

“You asked, I answered,” she grabbed his arm to pull him into motion. “I think he likes blondes though. He’s never seemed interested in me.”

“Well, I think you’re beautiful as you are.” He hooked his arm with hers.

“Um thanks.” She unhooked her arm. “Is this the place?”

“This looks like it.” He held the door open for her and gestured inside. “After you, my lady.”

“Um thanks.”

She looked behind her suspiciously, watching to make sure he didn’t make any quick moves. The hostess/bartender mixed drinks for two middle-aged men at the bar before seating the two of them. Besides the men at the bar, no one else sat in the restaurant.

“This place looks super busy,” Isadora commented sarcastically. “Good choice, Doran.”

“I’ve heard the food is really good,” he answered and looked up at her with a smile. “I’m glad you came out with me.”

“Sure,” she read the menu, then set it down. “I’ll get the spaghetti and an Italian coffee.”

“That was quick!” he laughed.

“I have to get back to work so…”

“Right. I forgot about that.” He waved his hand to call over the waitress/hostess/bartender.

The woman walked over slowly, seemingly annoyed that she had to actually work. Doran ordered for them and gave the woman a winning smile. She wrote down their order, took their menus, and slumped away. The restaurant looked like the kind of place a mob boss would hang out in. Isadora itched with unease - something seemed off about the whole thing.

She looked across the table at Doran, who examined the whole room. His stubble appeared thicker since he arrived, making him somehow look more handsome. She’d never noticed how his eyes could look a cool blue and light green at the same time (of course, she’d never spent much time looking into his eyes.) His V-neck white t-shirt showed how the military had done his body good - he looked both leaner and more muscular than before he left.

“Maybe we should get the food to go. I have to get back to work,” Isadora said, feeling uncomfortable from the environment and from checking out the step-brother she hated.

“We haven’t been here that long,” he replied with a slightly hurt look in his eyes.

“I only get a half hour usually. It’s okay if I stay a little longer, but then I have to stay longer after work.” She placed her hand on his. “Sorry, Doran.”

He smiled, “It’s okay. I’m happy we did get some time together. Let me go talk to the waitress about our food.”

He rubbed her hand before getting up to talk to the waitress. His black pants hugged his long legs perfectly, but didn’t cling too tightly. His gait gained a more mature confidence than the arrogant jerk arrogance he had as a teenager - he looked cool, calm, and collected now, as if he never could’ve been that boy who once lit a Christmas tree park on fire for “solidarity.” If she didn’t know him, she would consider flirting with him; unfortunately, she knew him well.

He returned after what Isadora considered a lengthier conversation than necessary with the waitress. “All right, she’s bringing the food to go. I considered getting a drink, but they were too pricey.”

“Is that what you were talking to her for so long about?” his companion queried.

“Oh, who’s the jealous boyfriend now?”

She rolled her eyes. “Probably one of the guys at the bar. I saw one of them check you out.”

He looked toward the bar, “I guess I could get worse.”