Major

I have to restrain myself from blasting the little brat behind me with some serious drill instructor verbiage. If he kicks my seat one more time, I can’t be responsible for my actions. I thought taking a few days off would help my demeanor, but it’s aggravated it instead. How could I forget how much I hate flying? The closeness, the germs and smells mixing together, the recycled air and the disgusting miniature bathrooms . . . it gives me chills.

I’ve had enough. I place my hand on the back of my seat and turn around to look at the woman accompanying the little boy. Then I look directly into the eyes of the obnoxious little kicker.

“Stop. Kicking. My. Seat.”

The little shit gives me a defiant look, and I narrow my eyes and lift my lip in a silent growl. That’s all it takes. The kid sits back in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest. I glance at his mother, and she looks impressed. My work here is done. I turn around. The pocket on the back of the seat in front of me is stuffed with travel magazines and safety instruction cards. It’s a mess. I can’t help myself when I remove them all and organize them according to size and color. When they’re as close to perfect as they can be, I try to relax and look out the window until we land in San Diego.

After a long landing, I finally exit the airport and look for my car in the long-term parking lot. When I find it, I open the car door, slide in, and start the engine. I blast the air conditioning and lean my head back on the seat while I wait for the car to cool off. I’m in her town. Being in such close proximity to her is so tempting. I start having stalker thoughts about driving past her workplace and watching her come out of the building for lunch. I need to get a fucking grip. I sit up and exit the lot, fully intending to head toward Camp Pendleton.

But I don’t.

Twenty minutes later, I’m parked across the street from her office building doing exactly what I just told myself not to do. I give every woman who exits the building the once-over. I would probably know Violet if I saw her, but it’s been a while and I’m unsure of myself. Twice, I’ve had my hand on the door handle, ready to get out before I realized it wasn’t her.

I don’t know what I plan to say if I see her. Why the hell am I doing this again? Essentially, it’s because I’m a fucking selfish asshole who doesn’t care if I ruin her life as long as I get what I want. I’ve tried to stay away. Even if I hadn’t flown into San Diego today, it was just a matter of time before I came to her. She’s all I ever think about. Every day I’m away from her, I grow more pissed at myself for letting her go.

Sabrina was right. Fuck space. I shouldn’t deny myself this second chance. I need to take a leap off this jagged ledge of fear and talk to her. I have to know what made her run that morning three months ago. Was it something I did? Did I push her too far in bed with the rope? Did she realize how severe my OCD is and decide I wasn’t worth the trouble? There are probably a million reasons, but I never picked up any vibes of reservation. I was so surprised when her mother took their bags out of the back of my SUV that morning. I didn’t know how to make her stay. I didn’t know what to say. After driving a mile down the road, my head cleared and I realized she was better off without me. She still is.

This is ridiculous. She may not even leave for lunch, and I have a meeting I can’t miss this afternoon and a forty-five minute drive home. I’ll wait fifteen more minutes, no more.

It turns out I don’t have to wait any longer at all. When I look up, there she is, stepping out of the revolving door with a middle aged petite blonde. Time’s up. I get out of the car and move swiftly across the street, dodging traffic until I’m ten feet behind her on the sidewalk.

She’s got her mop of soft curls swept up in a ponytail that gently swings with her hips as she walks. The curve of her bare neck calls to me and my cock twitches. I’m jealous of her petite friend when they laugh and bump their hips together.

I want those hips to be mine. I want to dig my fingers into her flesh and press a kiss on the rise of each one. This woman has the power to mutate this hard ass Marine into a sloppy puddle of slush. She doesn’t have a clue the power she holds over me. I want to give her everything, take her everywhere, and learn everything there is to know about her. I have an uncontrollable urge to make her happy in any way possible. But first, I have to get her to sit down and talk to me.

I haven’t seen Violet dressed casually since the day we bumped into each other at Target. The events we attended that weekend were dress to impress occasions, but today, she’s a perfect combination of sexy and sweet, wearing a flowing lavender blouse with a pair of bright colored, wild patterned leggings. Her friend is dressed more conservatively in jeans and a short-sleeved cardigan and t-shirt, but I’ve heard Facebook fosters individuality and comfort as opposed to a more professional dress code. I can’t imagine going to work dressed that way.

There are a lot of people on the street today as I weave down the sidewalk trying to catch up with them. I’m walking directly behind Violet when her friend notices me. I smile and fall into step next to Violet. She turns to see who’s invading her space and stops short when I greet her. “Hello, Violet.”

Her skin pales, and for a moment, I worry that I may have to catch her when she passes out on the sidewalk. I step in front of her and introduce myself to her companion. “Hi, I’m sorry to interrupt. I’m Major Steele, a friend of Violet’s,” I say, reaching out to shake the woman’s hand.

God, I’ve missed those dark brown almond eyes. They’re just as full of life and expression as I remember, but something is different today. I can’t pinpoint it exactly, but if I had to, I’d say they have more sparkle, more purpose.

“Major?” she whispers while her friend shakes my hand and introduces herself as Marie.

“It’s nice to meet you, Marie,” I say and turn my attention back to Violet.

“I’m sorry for showing up unexpectedly like this, but I was in town and I’d like to talk to you if you have some time. It doesn’t have to be now. I can wait until you’re off work.”

She wraps her arms around her waist and I watch as the color begins to return to her cheeks.

“Ah, yes, sure. Marie and I are going to a deli down the street. You can join us for lunch if you want.” her voice is strangled, as if every word is difficult to speak.

I take a chance and reach to remove one of her hands from her torso. She doesn’t pull away, and in fact, she comfortably laces her fingers with mine. Her warmth spreads through my body like syrup over hotcakes until it settles in my chest.

“I would like to talk to you privately, if that’s all right with you.”

All three of us are silent for a moment, but Marie returns to the here and now first with a jolt.

“Oh, Violet, go ahead. I’ll run down and get our lunch. I’ll take it back up to the office and we can eat when you get back.”

I like Marie. She’s accommodating.

Violet lowers her head and takes a deep breath. A knot forms in my stomach, and I deflate internally. She’s going to turn me down.

A car on the street honks and startles her, bringing her focus back to me.

“Can we meet later instead? I want to talk too, but I don’t want to be rushed.”

“Yes, of course. Do you want me to pick you up when you’re finished here?”

She doesn’t want to be rushed. That could be good or bad. She may want to take her time letting me down easy. Or she might want to spend some time getting reacquainted. I’m leaning toward the latter, as she still hasn’t let go of my hand.

She looks at Marie, who is eying our joined hands.

“What time do you think we will be done, Marie?”

Marie snaps her eyes to Violet. “Oh, no later than six. You’re not allowed to stay any later than that anyway,” she says and quickly presses her lips together as if she’s accidentally told a secret.

“I’ll be here at eighteen-fifteen.” I squeeze her hand and lean in to kiss her on the cheek. Her skin is so damn soft against my lips. The familiar scent of lavender fills my nostrils as I linger longer than I should. Before prying myself away from her, I whisper in her ear, “You look beautiful today, Violet.” She gently pulls away and releases my hand.

I nod at her friend. “Nice to meet you, Marie. I’ll see you later, Violet.”

Her eyes meet mine for a second before she nods. I look both ways before jogging across the street toward my car, and when I’m behind the wheel, I make a U-turn and drive slowly alongside them. I roll down my window, and they both look at me as if I’m cuckoo for driving down the wrong side of the street against traffic.

“I’ve missed you, Target girl.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” she scolds with a smile on her full lips.

“I’ll see you at eighteen-fifteen.” I whip my SUV around into the correct lane just in time to miss an approaching car.

I glance in my rearview mirror and see Violet standing still on the sidewalk, clutching her chest. I didn’t mean to scare her, but I couldn’t drive away until she knew I’ve been missing her. For three long, torturous months, I’ve successfully avoided all contact with her. I’ve done every single thing possible to work her out of my system aside from having a one-night stand. Just the thought of touching another woman is repelling. If we can’t work this out, I could very well spend the rest of my life alone. There is no one else for me. Finding two great loves in one lifetime is simply too much luck for a man like me. It’s Violet or no one.