Out of Time

23

I hated this fucking place. All I’d done for the past three weeks was eat sand, get shot at, almost get blown up twice, and miss Carrie. I walked around like some lovesick fucker who didn’t know how to live without a woman at his side.

And even worse? I was absolutely that fucking guy. And this assignment sucked donkey balls.

I’d been given three hours of down time, and I had every intention of using it to sleep and dream of her—even if it was seven o’clock at night. When you only got a handful of hours to sleep on any given day, you took them when you got them.

I closed my eyes and tried to pretend I was with her. We were laying side by side, our hands touching and her ankle thrown over my calf like she always did in her sleep. Or maybe we were about to get ready for the big Wallington Annual Holiday Dinner.

I think that was today or tomorrow…

I’d kind of lost track of time lately. All the days blended into one long, drawn out nightmare. It would have been the perfect night to tell everyone we loved each other. We would all be together, with the normal social hierarchy gone.

We could have stood up, entwined hands, and announced our love for each other. I would look her father in the eye and assure him that I would never hurt Carrie…

Knock, knock, knock.

“Come in,” I called out, sitting up straight and rubbing my eyes. Had I dozed off for a second there? It felt like it. “I’m up.”

Dotter popped his blond head in through the crack of the door. “We’re getting word of a disturbance up north about a mile. We have to go check it out.”

I was on my feet within seconds, shrugging into my bulletproof vest. “Yes, sir.”

He closed the door and I stomped into my boots, then grabbed my helmet off my bare bunk. I was halfway to the door before I realized I didn’t have the most important item with me. I crossed the room and snatched Carrie’s photo from under my pillow, tucking it securely inside my vest—next to my dog tags and over my heart.

As I walked out the door and nodded at my superior, he came to my side. “I heard a rumor we might be going home soon.”

I stopped walking. “She’s done exploring the rough and tough Middle East already?”

He snorted and opened the door. “I guess so. When she heard there was another disturbance she said maybe she would return home for the holidays. We might be stateside for Christmas.”

I grinned. “That’s the best news I’ve gotten all month.”

“I hear ya, Coram.” He slid into the Humvee and started the engine. I climbed up beside him, cocking my rifle and looking out the window. “Do you have a girl waiting for you back home?”

“Yeah.” I closed my eyes for only a fraction of a second, picturing Carrie’s sweet smile. I opened them when we pulled forward and onto the makeshift road. “You?”

“A wife and two kids.” He drummed his thumbs on the wheel. “If I could be home for Christmas for once, I’d be quite happy.”

“I’m sure they would be, too, sir.” I scanned the shadows for any movement, but all was quiet on the western front. Okay, maybe that was a bad analogy to make when I was in this fucking place. “God willing, she’ll realize she did enough pilgrimage and we’ll be all set to go home for the holidays.”

“From your lips to God’s ears,” Dotter said.

“I’m not seeing anything.” I looked over my shoulder. “What was supposedly seen here?”

“We had a report of a suspicious blue vehicle, lurking by the entrance of the compound. And someone heard some loud booms.” He shrugged. “Out here, that’s not exactly the weirdest thing in the world.”

“Damn straight.” I kept looking. Nothing. “I think we can head back, sir.”

“I think you’re right, but, first, let’s go west a little more.”

I nodded and turned back out the window, watching for any signs of life. But in my head, I offered up a silent prayer that God had been listening earlier. That we were going home early, and that this nightmare would be over.

But most of all? I prayed we walked away from this fucking mess alive.

Carrie

The night of the party, I stood in front of the mirror and smoothed the maroon satin over the tulle that made it poof out underneath. Mom had picked the dress, and it so wasn’t my style, but I wore it anyway. She’d gone through the trouble of finding it, so the least I could do was wear it once before I donated it to charity.

I looked at the necklace she’d bought for me to wear with it, but I didn’t pick it up. If I wore that, I’d have to take off Finn’s necklace, and that wasn’t something I was willing to do. Not even for Mom.

I picked up the necklace she bought and shoved it inside the drawer by my bed. Then I went back to the mirror and studied my reflection. I looked tired and miserable. There were humongous bags under my eyes, and my cheeks looked hollowed out a little, too, no matter how much blush I applied.

But besides that, I guess I looked okay.

The dress was pretty. My hair was swept into a pretty updo that Marie had coached me through, and I had soft pink lip gloss on my lips. I picked up my phone and snapped a picture, then sent it off in an email to Finn.

He would like this dress. It looked easy enough to remove.

I waited to see if I got a reply, but none came. That wasn’t a huge surprise. Communication from him was sparse at best, but I ached to get something from him. Anything. It was the only way I had of keeping track of him.

Of knowing he wasn’t lying dead somewhere. I shook my head, trying to ditch that train of thought before it ruined my halfway decent mood. My phone buzzed and I picked it up, my heart racing. It wasn’t Finn. It was Marie. How’s it going?

I sent the picture I’d sent to Finn to Marie. Good. Do I look okay?

A few seconds, then: Geez, girl. Have you slept AT ALL?

Yeah. I tapped the phone on my chin. Okay, not much. I miss Double-oh-Seven.

As soon as I sent the message, I deleted it. She wrote back. Ah. Well, it’s almost over. Then we can have some girl time. For now, go to that party (I’m assuming you’re going to a party) and have some fun.

I smiled. I’ll try. Thanks for the pep talk.

And SLEEP.

I tossed my phone on my bed and headed for my door. The guests would be arriving soon, and I had to be there to greet them, or Mom would have a heart attack. I walked down the carpeted stairs, my hand gripping the white bannister at the end in case my heels decided to slip on the marble foyer.

Dad turned to me and smiled wide, his blue eyes lighting up. He smoothed his graying hair and held his hands out to me. “Ah, it’s my princess. Don’t you look beautiful?”

“Thanks, Dad.” I walked over to him, and he grabbed my fingers, squeezing them tight. “You look wonderful, too, of course.”

He hugged me and kissed my forehead. His familiar cologne washed over me, and I hugged him, closing my eyes as I rested against his chest. “Thanks, princess.”

“Hugh.” I heard heels come up behind me, and Mom said, “Watch the dress, you’ll wrinkle it.”

I looked up at Dad, rolled my eyes—which made him laugh—and turned to Mom. She headed toward us, Tinkerbell at her heels. Even the dog had dressed up for the occasion. She wore a red satin bow around her neck. “Well, you both look pretty. Very festive.”

Mom wore a deep crimson dress that flowed to the floor in elegant swirls, and diamonds in her ears that would probably make the Queen of England jealous. She did a little twirl, her heels clacking as she did so, and leaned forward to kiss my cheek.

“So do you, dear,” Mom said, smoothing her dress, even though it was flawless. Tinkerbell shot between her legs, tongue hanging out in excitement. “The first guests should be arriving soon. The house staff and guards are already drinking champagne in the dining room.”

“Should I go in there with them so they’re not alone?”

Mom shook her head. “No. You should wait here and greet our guests.”

“Did you tell her that the Stapleton boy is coming tonight, Margie?” Dad nudged me with his elbow. “That’s an excellent family if I do say so myself. Their son, Riley, is going to school in San Francisco.”

Now I knew why I recognized that freaking name. That’s the guy mom had been trying to marry me off to. No wonder she’d been so nervous when she mentioned their name yesterday. This was a setup. A date of sorts.

I turned to Mom and smiled, even though it probably looked more feral than kind. Her cheeks were flushed. “Oh, how lovely. I can’t wait.”

Dad patted my arm. “You’ll like him. He has the same beliefs as us.”

Then I probably wouldn’t get along with him. But I didn’t say that. “I can’t wait,” I said, smiling so wide it hurt my cheeks.

Laughter came from the dining room, and more joined in. The house staff and guards sounded like they were having a blast. I wanted to go in there with them and sneak a drink, but I forced myself to stand still. To play the part of dutiful daughter.

Soon enough they would see it was all an act. I loved them, and I was their daughter, but I wouldn’t be their pawn. Not anymore. I pasted a smile on when the doorbell rang. Time to play the part.

“They’re here,” Mom said, clapping her hands excitedly.

“I’ll open it, you two stand there.” Dad headed for the door, his steps wide and sure. “Ready, girls?”

“Ready,” Mom said.

They were acting like this was some huge thing, but we were standing here in dresses and heels like idiots. Even Tinkerbell stood at attention, for the love of God. This is why I’d never be like my mother. I felt like an idiot—and rightly so. I mean, why were we so freaking special that we were lined up like royalty on an episode of Downton Abbey?

It was stupid.

“Happy holidays,” Dad boomed, clapping some gray-haired man on the shoulder. “Arnold, how good to see you.”

I stiffened at the familiar name. He was the man responsible for sending Finn away. Even if he was helping, right now I didn’t like him. His eyes clashed with mine over Dad’s head. “It’s a lovely night out for a party.”

Dad nodded and laughed. “Indeed it is. Though it’s not as nice as that California weather, is it?”

Arnold shook his head, his eyes still on mine. “Not quite. Right, Carrie?”

“Uh, right.” I lifted my chin, raising my voice to be heard over Tinkerbell’s incessant barking. “Nice seeing you again, captain.”

He came to my side and dropped a kiss on my head. “I trust you’ll be wanting to speak with me tonight?” he asked quietly.

“You’d be right,” I gritted out. “After dinner.”

“I’ll meet you in the drawing room,” he agreed, squeezing my hand before moving on to my mother. “Darling, you look fabulous.”

I smiled and greeted his wife and two young children, then took a steadying breath. I had a lot of questions for him, but they would have to wait for now.

The doorbell rang again, and Dad opened it. Tinkerbell barked even louder. “Ah, hello, hello. Happy holidays,” Dad boomed. “Come in. It’s great seeing you again, Chris.”

Chris. That didn’t tell me which one this was. But then I saw the guy with him—young, tall, blond, and really hot—and I knew right away. It was the Stapletons.

My intended family…if my family had their way.

Dad beamed at me. “Ah, Riley. Carrie is home, so you won’t be drowning in old people talk tonight.”

“Sir, I must be old myself, because I’ve never been bored.” He placed a hand on Dad’s arm and met my eyes, his smile widening. He had dimples. Freaking dimples. “But I must confess, I’m excited to get to know you better, Carrie. I’ve heard so much about you.”

I pasted on my generic smile and extended my hand, shaking his. His hand was rough and huge on mine, and he seemed friendly enough. If I had met him on this level before I’d met Finn, maybe he would have stood a chance with me. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t Finn. “I hope it was all good.”

He laughed, deep and rumbly. Tinkerbell hopped up on hind legs, whining at his feet. Riley squatted down and pet her, grinning. “Indeed.”

“Good.” I bent over and whispered. “Then they were lying.”

His smile slipped for a second, but he laughed and straightened to his full height again. Tinkerbell slinked back to Mom’s side. “I think we’re going to get along nicely, you and I.” He held out his arm. “Shall we go get a drink?”

I made a face. “I’m not old enough.”

“I won’t tell,” he whispered. “Come on, cutie.”

I raised a brow. “Cutie?”

“Too soon?” He sighed. “I thought since we were getting along so well, we were there. Nicknames and all that.”

“Uh…” I eyed him, torn between genuinely liking him, and not wanting to lead him on. He might be handsome and he might be a catch, but he wasn’t mine to catch. My hook was already taken...or whatever fishing metaphor fit in this situation. I wasn’t exactly the fishing type. I leaned in and dropped my voice. “Look, I have a boyfriend. My parents don’t know about it, so they didn’t tell you, but I do. Have a boyfriend. Who I love.”

He held a hand to his heart, his other arm still extended to me. “You wound me. What part of my drink invitation said ‘I’m looking to get into your pants’? I must’ve missed it, because I’d swear I simply asked you to keep me company in a dining room—not my bedroom.”

I laughed, then covered my mouth. Mom looked over and smiled, obviously thinking her plan was working. “So you’re not trying to get into my pants?”

“No, of course not.” He skimmed his gaze over me. “Not yet, anyway. I mean, I just met you. Give a guy a little credit, will ya?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, because not knowing a girl has stopped guys before.”

“I’m not just any guy. I’m one of a kind. A Stapleton through and through.” He put a hand on his chest, and for a second I thought he was serious, but he broke out in a grin and dropped his hand. “Was I cocky and serious enough? Did I pull it off?”

“Yeah, you almost had me.” I laughed. “You’re something else.”

“I get that a lot.”

I blinked up at him, fluttering my lashes a little. “From girls you flirt with?”

“I’m not flirting. I’m chatting, darling,” he said, drawing out the syllable to sound snobby. “And while I’m sure you’re quite lovely under that dress, I have a secret, too.” He offered his arm again. “If you want to hear it, you have to follow me.”

This time, I curled my hand into his elbow and let him. “Spill it, Stapleton.”

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, you’re bossy. I like that in a woman.”

I sighed, but inside I felt alive. It had been so long since I’d gotten to relax and be myself. It felt good. “It comes part and parcel with being a Wallington.”

“Ah, yes. I think I saw that in the informational packet your dad gave me about your blood lineage.” As we crossed the foyer, he added, “Did you know my parents want me to marry you and make little trust fund babies? They made it quite clear.”

I stopped walking and looked at him, my jaw dropping. “Uh, okay. That was a sweet proposal and all, but no thank you.”

“Sweetie, that wasn’t a proposal.” He shuddered. “I am not my parents, and I have a feeling you aren’t yours either. I’m betting you don’t like being told what to do. Am I right?”

I bit down on my lip and nodded. “They told me the same thing—that I should marry you for the greater good.”

“I’m shocked.” He snorted and opened the door to the dining room. “Or not. But at least they’re open and honest with us, right? They seem to forget this isn’t the Victorian times, and we’re not—”

“And we’re not children who will do as they’re told,” I finished for him, smiling. I liked this guy. There was something about him that made me relax. “You’re right, I think we’ll get along great.”

He nodded and picked up a glass of pink stuff, handing one to me. “Drink it before they come in.”

“On it.” I tipped it back and took a big gulp. It was fizzy and slightly sweet. And delicious. After I swallowed, I lifted my glass and pointed it at him. “You don’t act like them.”

“Neither do you.” He took a thoughtful sip. “I think it’s why we like each other. I mean, really, why am I in a tux for dinner with friends? How pretentious can we be?”

I giggled and took another sip. This stuff was even better than the wine coolers Finn always got me. I’d have to figure out what it was so we could keep it stashed at his place. “We hired help to replace the help. For one day. Like, what?” I held out my arm. “The house will fall apart in twenty-four hours?”

He rolled his eyes. “My parents are the same. When I’m done with college, I’m going to get a normal-sized house, a normal job, and marry a normal girl.”

“They’ll just die,” I said fluttering my lashes. “Can you imagine the reaction?”

His gaze dropped to my mouth and heated, but then he looked away. “They’d have a heart attack, I’m sure.”

I tried to ignore the look he’d given me. So what if he’d stared at my mouth for a fraction of a second? It didn’t have to mean anything. And honestly, I didn’t want to stop being silly with him. Ever since I came home, I’d been pretending to be something I wasn’t. I wasn’t the girl who left here all those months ago. I was different.

Finn had changed me, and I had no desire to go back to being that girl.

He took another sip of his drink, then grabbed both of us another one, stepping even closer to me. “Let’s go sit over there. They’ll think we’re off flirting and maybe getting a head start on those trust fund babies, and we can drink. Maybe spend some time getting to know one another since we’ll be married soon…”

“You are flirting with me,” I said, narrowing my eyes on him. “The question is: why bother?”

“Dude, I’m respectful of the fact you have a man back in Cali,” he said, his eyes drifting down my body. “But I’m not dead. I see a pretty girl? I flirt. Don’t look too much into it. Although…wait. Scratch that. I did ask you to marry me.”

I laughed and led him into the sitting room. “You’re horrible.”

“If our parents knew we were wandering off together, they’d be cackling with glee. I can picture them now, standing on the sidelines and rooting us on.” He lowered his voice. “No, son, you have to move slower. Make it last. It’s not a rush to the finish line, boy. Conserve your energy for round two. Stapletons always have a round two.”

I choked on my drink and gasped for air. “Oh my God.”

“Too much?” he asked as he sighed and leaned against the wall.

“Nope. It’s just enough,” I said, grinning. “You remind me of…well, my boyfriend.”

He narrowed his eyes. “If you’re going to ask me to stand in for him in a dark bedroom, I’ll have to say…yes. Absolutely yes.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. Totally something he would say.”

“He sounds like a smart guy.” He finished his drink and sat down on the couch. “Come. Sit. Tell me about this paragon of a man.”

“Well…” I took a sip and sat down next to him, setting my full glass down on the table next to his empty one. “He’s a Marine. And he surfs. And rides a bike. And he’s the sweetest guy ever. He treats me so…so great.”

I broke off and played with the sun necklace. There weren’t enough words to encompass all that was Finn.

“Mm.” He tapped his fingers on the side of the couch. “Sounds like Mommy and Daddy will love him.”

I snorted. “You have no idea, but I don’t care.”

“The heart never does,” he said softly.

His words reminded me of Mom’s, and all that “the heart is right or wrong” crap. I considered him. He looked awfully melancholy. “What about you? You have a girl back in San Francisco?”

“I did.” He lifted a shoulder and offered me a twisted smile. “But we broke up when I found her in bed with her professor.”

“Ouch.” I patted his back. “Sorry.”

“Eh, it’s okay.” He leaned his elbows on his knees. “It’s not like she was the one or anything.”

I pursed my lips. “Do you believe in that?” I asked.

“I do.” He turned to me. “Don’t you?”

“I do. I mean, I found him.” I picked up my drink. “So I know it’s real.”

“I’m kind of jealous.” He nodded. “Enough about me. Drink that and we’ll go back in. It’s time to act the part of the spoiled rich kids.”

I finished my half-empty one and picked up the full glass, resting my chin in my hand. “You’re so different from them.”

“You are, too.” He watched me, his green eyes sparkling with life and kindness. “I wonder why?”

“I…” I paused and tapped my finger on my lips. “I don’t have a freaking clue.”

He laughed. “Me either. Maybe it’s the generation we’ve been born into.”

“Yeah, maybe.” I thought of Cory, who was the epitome of what my parents had to have been at my age. “Then again, maybe we’re just freaks.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, laughing. “But the best kind.”

I chugged the rest of my drink and stood up, smoothing my dress over my thighs. “You ready to go into the ranks again?”

“Yep.” He rose to his feet and offered his arms. “Shall we?”

Such an old-fashioned phrase. I dropped into a curtsy, grinning up at him before taking his arm. “We shall.”

I locked arms with him and we headed for the double doors that would lead us into the room where everyone—waitstaff, cook, house staff, and bodyguards—would be mingling with senators and governors. All dressed alike, all eating and drinking the same stuff.

We pushed through the doors and walked into mayhem.