A Marine For His Mum

“I hope you don’t mind, but I took a shower.”

His comment forced her to turn and acknowledge him, but the moment she laid eyes on his damp and masculine form, she froze.

Sweet mercy. He was wearing his shorts, thankfully, but his hair was wet, and he was still shirtless. He walked toward her—barefoot, she assumed, because she couldn’t take her eyes off the muscles rippling in his chest long enough to look. The hair on his upper body formed a soft V that angled down below his waistband.

“Maxine?”

She couldn’t answer. She was too mesmerized by his ripped hard abdomen.

“Maxine?” he said again, and she had to drag her eyes upward. He stepped closer, and she leaned back against the kitchen counter to steady her shaky legs.

“Huh?” she managed to get out.

Cooper was now only inches away. He lifted his hand to her face, his fingers skimming her cheek and setting her skin on fire. “If you don’t stop looking at me like that, I’m not going to be able to control myself anymore.”

She didn’t want him to control himself. And she was sure as heck tired of controlling herself. So she raised her lips in invitation.

And that was all it took.

* * *

Sugar Falls, Idaho: Your destination for true love!

A Marine for His Mum

Christy Jeffries

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHRISTY JEFFRIES graduated from the University of California, Irvine, with a degree in criminology and received her Juris Doctor from California Western School of Law. But drafting court documents and working in law enforcement was merely an apprenticeship for her current career in the dynamic field of mummyhood and romance writing. She lives in Southern California with her patient husband, two energetic sons and one sassy grandmother. Follow her online at www.christyjeffries.com.

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To the wise and determined bestselling author, Judy Duarte. When my English teacher told you that I didn’t like to read, you handed me a Danielle Steel book and said, “Try reading a romance novel.” And when I struggled with the decision to leave a rewarding career to become a stay-at-home mom, you signed me up for a workshop and said, “Try writing a romance novel.”

It takes a strong woman to guide an even stronger-willed daughter. But doing it with such grace, diplomacy and unconventional orchestration takes extreme love and dedication.

I love you, Mom.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

September 4

Dear Soldier,

My name is Hunter Walker. I’m a fifth grader in Miss Gregson’s class. I live in Sugar Falls, Idaho, which is the most boringest town you can think of. I love football and baseball, even though my mom won’t let me play. Gram says my dad was the best football player to ever come out of Sugar Falls, but he died when I was a baby and before he made the pros. Since I’m not allowed to play, I never have anything to do when my mom is busy working or with her friends.

My mom is nice but she is way to into her girl stuff. She has a cool bakery that’s famous for cookies and her friends are always trying to find stuff for me to do. Aunt Mia had me in yoga, but I got sick of being the only boy. Aunt Kylie wanted to enter me in one of her glitz pageants last year, but when I saw the glittery pink bow tie, I said no way. Gram tries to talk mom into letting me play football, but my mom says it’ll never happen. Mom says Gram is to pushy and needs to learn to back off. I think Gram is fine except when she buys me clothes that make me feel like a big fat loser. I never get to do any cool boy things. Even though I don’t remember him, I sometimes miss my dad. It would be nice to talk to a guy once in awhile. I don’t really have anything in common with the other boys in my class and they make fun of me a lot.

I put in a picture of me so you would know who your writing to. Can you send me a picture of you? Maybe one of you on an M1A1 tank or in a fighter plane. Any plane or Huey would be cool, but Jake Marconi says his uncle flies a Harrier jet and I saw one when I looked it up online. I think Jake is lying because I met his uncle at Jake’s 8th birthday party and he didn’t look like a fighter pilot. Can you be a fighter pilot when your 18? Do they have fighter pilots in the coast guard?

Its ok if your not a fighter pilot. I’ll still write you back. But you are a man right? I don’t want to have to write to any girls cause I have to be around them enough already. Do you like baseball? Or UFC? I’m not allowed to watch UFC, but my mom lets me watch baseball. The Colorado Rockies are my favorite team and I know every stat about them for the last three years. Anyway, I hope your a boy and that you like baseball and that you write me back.

Sincerely,

Hunter Walker

Chapter One

Gunnery Sergeant Matthew Cooper closed his eyes and clenched the armrests as his plane touched down onto the tarmac in Boise. No matter how many times he’d flown to obscure places around the world, he never got used to the steady decline and the rough bounce of the landing. But this time, he felt as if his entire future was skidding toward the edge of the runway.

A couple of months ago, when he’d stormed out of his commanding officer’s makeshift headquarters with Hunter Walker’s letter crumpled in his hand, he’d been mad as hell. He’d been even more pissed off at Dr. Gregson for suggesting he participate in the ridiculous pen pal program and pairing him up with some goofy kid in Nowheresville, Idaho.

As the seat belt light dinged off, Cooper remembered thinking that a Marine Corps base in Afghanistan wasn’t any place for him to be playing nanny-by-mail to some ten-year-old kid with an overprotective mom and no friends. It wasn’t as if Cooper had been some lonely nineteen-year-old infantry grunt who needed a morale boost. He’d been a provost sergeant who’d held some of the deadliest Taliban leaders in custody in the base brig. Before that, he’d been stationed as an MP at bases all over the world. He’d broken up bar fights, investigated assaults and murder, and even gone undercover with NCIS on a few occasions. He had no business being some kid’s babysitter or even worse, male role model.

But now that Cooper’s tour of duty, and possibly his entire military career, was at a sudden end thanks to a random suicide bomber, that same kid and the bond they’d established over emails and letters was the only glimpse of brightness in his dark, lonely future.

As the center aisle of the aircraft filled up with people trying to reclaim their belongings from the overhead bins, Cooper fiddled with his seat belt and longed to stand and stretch out his legs. But his knee was barely being held together with pins and screws, and he would have to wait for the rest of the passengers to disembark the plane before some airline personnel would load him up on a wheelchair and push his useless body out to the baggage claim area.

He hated being weak and was questioning his earlier decision to allow Hunter to see him like this the first time they met. He ached with stiffness, and he was completely exhausted. He’d been traveling on a commercial airline for well over thirty hours now, with layovers in both Tokyo and San Francisco. He’d taken a Vicodin in the Frisco airport an hour before he boarded the last leg of his flight, and now he wondered whether he was in any shape to meet his young pen pal face-to-face.

Or to allow the kid’s mom to drive him to the Shadowview Military Hospital outside of Boise.

Crap. How had he let Hunter talk him into that? Sure, he and the chatty fifth grader had built up quite the steady stream of correspondence when he’d been stationed in Afghanistan, and then later, as he’d been recuperating at the closest base hospital. And although he wasn’t what most people would consider a believer in divine intervention, Cooper had to question the alignment of fate when the doctors in Okinawa told him that the two best options he had to recover the use of his leg would be an intense orthopedic surgery at either Walter Reed Medical Center in Maryland or the Shadowview Military Hospital outside of Boise.

Cooper’s distal femur fracture would need to be repaired and healed before they could even think about a total knee replacement. He was looking at a long recovery time and, while he normally didn’t mind his loner lifestyle or the fact that he didn’t have any family to speak of, he figured that if he went to Shadowview, he’d at least be close to Hunter.

How pathetic was that?

He tried to comfort himself with the belief that Hunter needed him. The kid didn’t have any positive male role models, and while the boy’s mom probably loved him, it sounded like Hunter really needed a strong hand to get him in check. What the hell was wrong with the kid’s mother? Putting him in yoga classes and forbidding sports? Who does that to a boy? Guessing by her baking job, she was probably just as out of shape as the kid—if not more so—and too busy working to bother with taking care of her son.

It had been a bone of contention between Cooper and his ex-wife, but one thing Cooper had learned early on in the foster care system was that people shouldn’t be having kids if they were too busy to raise them.

That old familiar pang cramped inside his left rib cage, and he grabbed his backpack from under the seat just to give himself something to do. He winced as the forward movement added pressure to his leg, but the physical pain was at least better than the emotional pain that he’d almost let get the better of him.

There seemed to be some sort of delay exiting the plane because nobody was moving forward. Cooper pulled the printout of one of his past emails from Hunter from his backpack and read it.

To: [e-mail]

From: [e-mail]

Re: Surgery

Date: Jan 3

Wow! I can’t believe your actually coming Idaho to have your operation. How long do you have to stay in the hospital? I’ll have my mom and my Gram bring me down every week to visit you. Maybe I can hitchhike rides down the mountain too, when my mom is working. Jake Marconi said he hitchhiked once with his cousin and they went all the way to Winnemucca.

Are you real real worried about your knee? I’d be crazy worried if I were you. They should probably award your dog Helix a purple heart or a navy cross or something for going after that bomber and saving your life like that. Will they let you still be a marine if your knee don’t heal right?

You can still be my pen pal even if they kick you out and you’re not a marine no more. Where will you live when you get out of the hospital?

I went to Hawaii once with Gram. You could live there. Or even better, you could come live HERE. In Sugar Falls. It would be sooooooooo cool if we could hang out all the time. I’d be the only kid in my class to actually meet his real pen pal. I think I’m the only one now to still be getting letters and emails and stuff. Please please please think about living here after you get done at the hospital. I know I said Sugar Falls was dumb and boring, but it’s not really that way if we have each other we can hang out with. We could go fishing and everything.

You could stay with me and my mom. You’ll meet her when we pick you up at the airport to take you to the hospital. She’ll tell you that it’ll be so awesome. Please say yes!

Please.

Hunter

Cooper folded up the paper, and then looked at the standard issue class picture Hunter had sent in his original letter. He almost winced at the chubbiness of the kid’s face. The boy’s mom needed to get him off the cookies and onto a physical regimen, stat. Cooper may have had it rough growing up in a one-bedroom apartment in the slums of Detroit, but at least he’d been in shape and hadn’t taken any crap from the kids on the playground. Of course, taking crap from his stepdad was another thing.

Don’t think about the past. Think about the next step. The old adage he’d learned from his drill instructor had helped him to get past his crappy home life and rise up in the ranks. Even after his injury, he’d repeated the mantra dozens of times and knew that no matter how jacked up his leg was, he was a fighter and would get through this.

Once the surgeries were done, the physical therapy would be intense if Cooper wanted to regain full use of his leg. Maybe he could encourage Hunter to do some exercises with him. Heck, maybe Ms. Walker would be willing to get in shape with them.

The past few weeks, he’d found himself wondering about the boy’s mom more frequently. And no, it had nothing to do with the fact that he’d lost his own mom at the age of twelve and had fantasized about what it would be like to have a real home. And loving parents.

So he’d talked to Hunter to make sure that the mother was okay with their pen pal relationship. He’d never written to the woman directly, nor had Hunter ever sent a picture of her, but Cooper had her pegged all the same. As an MP, he could read between the lines.

He didn’t want to overstep his boundaries or cause problems for the Walkers. But the woman’s world most likely revolved around cookies and not much else. By the time she got around to noticing he was even in her son’s life, Cooper would be long gone.

* * *

“Mom, can’t you make this thing go any faster? Jake Marconi’s dad got a new Porsche, and Jake said it can go like a hundred and sixty miles an hour.”

Maxine Walker shot a glance across the seat at her impressionable son, yet her mind was focused on how quickly she and Hunter could greet his soldier friend at the airport and make it back up to Sugar Falls before dark. She could care less about Jake Marconi’s dad’s latest midlife cry for attention. Besides, they’d gotten another couple inches of snow last night, and she didn’t like this two-lane stretch of highway down the mountain, even in optimal weather.

“Hunter, explain to me why we have to pick this guy up, again? Doesn’t the military provide him transportation to the hospital?”

“I told you. I promised him I’d meet him in person. How would you like to be blown up in a war zone and then fly all the way around the world to some random hospital where you don’t know anybody? He’s a war hero, Mom. It’s our patriotic duty.”

Maxine blew a blond curl out of her eye as she finally turned her SUV off the highway and toward the interstate that would take them toward the Boise Airport. She didn’t need her ten-year-old son to preach to her about patriotic duties. Maxine had grown up on Uncle Sam’s rhetoric. Both of her parents were career Army and had bounced her and her six siblings around from base to base until she finally left for Boise State at eighteen.

“I think you’ve boosted enough troop morale for all of us these past few months, Hunter. Isn’t it enough that I let you keep writing letters to this guy, even though we don’t know anything about him?”

“What are you talking about? I know everything about Cooper. He’s my best friend.”

And that, in a nutshell, explained why Maxine had allowed this unorthodox pen pal relationship to continue. Her heart broke for her son. Back when Hunter was in preschool, and even in kindergarten, all the kids seemed to be on equal ground. But it didn’t take long for social awareness and parental attitudes to filter into the classroom. And, by third grade, Hunter suddenly didn’t mesh very well with the other kids anymore.

At first Maxine had thought it was because of her. The other moms had always seemed to be a little threatened because she’d once been a college cheerleader and still looked the part. Plus, since she was single, she had the feeling that the other women went out of their way to make sure that she never spoke to their husbands alone—or even when under their direct supervision. So she and Hunter were rarely invited to any evening or family activities.

Then, when Maxine launched her cookie shop, she became so busy that she had very little time for playdates or other after-school events that kept all the other kids socially relevant.

She only wished she could keep Hunter as productive as the Sugar Falls Cookie Company. But her once-happy little boy had become increasingly introverted. And, as a result, he’d turned his attention more toward his computer and less toward the natural, outdoorsy life that their small-town community had to offer.

Luckily, she had her best girlfriends and her mother-in-law to help keep her son busy. And recently, she’d hired more employees to help out in the shop, which gave her a little more time for Hunter, although he didn’t seem to want to do anything. But this pen pal business certainly had him perked up, so Maxine jumped on the chance to nurture his enthusiasm.

It was tough enough raising her son alone. Even if Bo hadn’t wrapped his car around a tree in an overinflated exhibition of masculine pride, he probably wouldn’t have stayed around long enough to help her raise Hunter anyway. But still, having to meet her son’s pen pal face-to-face and playing chauffeur to some soldier they’d never met was one of those things no single-mom handbook had ever addressed.

So now she was winging it.

Back in September, she’d glanced at some of their earlier correspondence, if only to make sure this Cooper guy wasn’t some predator or an otherwise bad influence on her sweet-but-naive son. The marine seemed on the up-and-up and she figured the relationship would run its course and fizzle out eventually. She wasn’t happy about this unexpected shift in proximity or the significance Gunnery Sergeant Cooper was now having on both their lives.

Had she really let her son leave school early today for this?

“Did you print out that email with his itinerary?” she asked, wishing she had given this whole airport to hospital run a little more consideration.

“Yeah, here it is.” Hunter’s growing fingers held it under her nose, and she remembered the way she used to kiss those little hands when he was a baby.

She almost missed the exit for the airport.

“Hunter, I’m driving. I can’t read it right this second.”

“Then why’d you ask me for it?”

“I wanted to know the exact flight details.”

“He gets in at one forty-seven.”

“Yeah, you told me that part already when you were practically shoving me out the door. But what airline is he coming in on, and are we supposed to take him straight to the hospital or what?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Maxine leaned her head against the leather headrest and slowly took three deep breaths. What she really wanted to ask was, How do I keep forgetting that you’re only ten and don’t understand the ways of the world? And how do I let you talk me into these kinds of things? But she saw the excitement on her son’s face as he looked at the prized email again. “Just read me what it says.”

To: [e-mail]

From: [e-mail]

Re: Itinerary

Date: Jan 6

So my plane gets in on Thursday at 1:47pm. Don’t worry about picking me up or anything. Boise Airport is both a civilian and a military airfield. It has military facilities on-site, so I can arrange for someone from the reserves unit there to take me to Shadowview.

I don’t know what I plan to do after the surgeries are over, but I doubt I’ll get all the way up to Sugar Falls. We’ll just see how my physical therapy goes. I’ll look into getting a stateside cell phone when I arrive, so maybe hold off on calling the hospital for constant updates on my status.

Also, there’s really no need to get me a Boise State T-shirt. Contrary to what you told me, I’m sure I’ll manage to find appropriate Idaho clothes so that I won’t “stick out like boobs on a bowling ball.” You really need to stop repeating the dumb stuff you hear that Jake Marconi kid saying. You don’t want to get your butt kicked by offending someone’s girlfriend.

See you in a few days,

Cooper

“Hunter, that doesn’t tell us anything. We should have checked his flight info. Do we even know if he’s flying on a commercial airline? What if the plane is late? What if the hospital sent an ambulance to pick him up?”

“Then I’ll ride to the hospital in the ambulance with him and you can pick me up there.”

What world was her son living in that he thought she would ever approve of that harebrained idea?

But they had just pulled into the short-term parking area, so she was fully invested at this point and needed to keep her frustration in check.

“Here’s the deal, Hunter. You can meet him. We’ll say hi. But you’re not spending any time alone with him.”

“Mom, c’mon. Miss Gregson’s brother is the military psychologist and personally screened all the marines before they were allowed to write to kids. They’re fighting for our freedom. They’re not weirdos or anything.”

Her sweet son wouldn’t know a weirdo if it jumped out of the Star Wars cantina scene and landed directly in his bed—right next to the wiener dog stuffed animal he still slept with every night.

She turned off the engine and shot him one last look, but he was already climbing into the backseat to retrieve the Welcome Home sign he’d worked on all last night. Then he was out the door and heading toward the arrivals terminal before she thought to ask him to show her a picture of what his pen pal looked like.

* * *

Cooper had barely hoisted the olive-green canvas duffel off the baggage claim conveyor belt and onto the floor beside him when he heard his name being shouted from behind the security guard checking luggage tags. All sound drowned out as a chubby ten-year-old waving a hand-painted poster board sign that said “Welcome Home, Cooper” ran at him.

If he hadn’t set the wheel lock on the wheelchair when the airport personnel had parked him, he suspected the way Hunter launched his thick little body at him would’ve toppled them both over, chair and all. As it was, Cooper’s injured leg screamed in protest at the sudden impact, but his heart leaped in joy at the way the kid’s arms tightened around his neck.

He clung to the short boy dressed in a Colorado Rockies T-shirt, not sure why he was allowing himself to get so emotional in a random airport in the middle of America. Hunter was practically a stranger, yet at that second, he seemed closer to Cooper than anyone else in the world.

At every deployment homecoming he could remember, he’d stood to the side and watched the other marines reunite with their loved ones. He’d never begrudged his fellow soldiers their families or their loving receptions, but it had always made him feel a little... Well, it stirred up an ache somewhere deep inside to know that the only welcome he’d ever get—if he got one at all—was from a USO volunteer doling out a cup of coffee and a smile to anyone wearing a uniform looking the least bit lonely.