Page 1 of Rugged and Filthy

CHAPTER 1

“The song is ended, but the melody lingers on.”

—Irving Berlin

Foxx

Who said romance was dead?

Well, maybe I had more than once. I was a kickass, no-nonsense Marine with a penchant for violence. I loved all things outdoors from hiking to shooting, being on the water and kayaking. I’d never cared about watching movies, especially love stories. I wasn’t much into holidays, maybe because I’d spent so much time overseas during most of them.

But here I sat in my finest attire, which admittedly wasn’t anything special, but I’d made reservations at the best restaurant in the small town of Breaux Bridge, Louisiana, the location on a pretty little spot of water. There was even a fountain off the oversized deck, the sounds of cascading water and the myriad colorful lights adding to the romantic atmosphere.

I’d picked a night when the place had live music, the piano player and guitarist ready and eager to play our song when I gave the okay. There were two candles on the red tablecloth, the flames flickering in the light breeze. Even the ordinary stench of the nearby swamp wasn’t evident tonight, replaced with the fragrance of night-blooming jasmine.

And in my pocket ready to burn a hole was the biggest diamond I could afford. It would take me four years to pay it off, but Dierdre was worth it. She’d been with me through thick and thin, several tours overseas. We were high school sweethearts, my deployment hindering our plans for a big family and a nice house in the suburbs. I even had one picked out, something we could afford. I planned on taking her there in the morning light to add to the celebration.

Now I was a freaking nervous wreck, eager to tell her I wasn’t leaving on any other tours, my time in the military finished. And I’d pop the question complete with champagne, a liquid libation I’d never tasted before but what the heck. You only proposed to the gal of your dreams once. Right?

I sat fidgeting, sipping on a beer while I waited.

She was already late by fifteen minutes, which wasn’t like her. My gal was known for being early to everything. People even teased her about it. Which was why I was beginning to worry something terrible had happened. I glanced at my watch for the tenth time, doing my best to calm my nerves. I’d told her tonight was special to me, trying not to give anything away. But my beautiful girl knew me too well. Maybe she’d wanted to make sure she looked perfect.

Which in my mind, she always did. She was beautiful in every way, her long red hair shimmering in the sunlight. I couldn’t wait to start a family with her.

As I sat back, pretending I didn’t have a care in the world, my heart thumped. Then my phone buzzed and I eagerly picked it up, frowning when I noticed it was a text from one of my buddies. Hudson Michaels was trying to be a buzzkill, constantly telling me that women were nothing but liars.

Granted, he’d found his gal in bed with his teammate from the Vancouver Cougars, the incident almost derailing his lucrative hockey career. In town for his sister’s wedding, he and my other friend, Jack Ford, were commiserating over their fates, likely drowning their sorrows in whatever bottle of booze they could get their hands on. They were just jealous, but the text made me smile.

Come to Ralphie’s where the beer is cold and the women cheap. We’ll take care of you.

My response?

Fuck off.

I laughed and shoved my phone back into my jacket pocket, rubbing my sweaty hands down my trousers. I was jumpy, more so than I’d thought I’d be since Dierdre and I had been together for over five years. At least I was ready to take this seriously.

After another couple of minutes, the waiter came over, his impatience written all over his face. “Sir, would you like to order something?”

“As I told you before, I’m waiting for my lady. She should be here any minute. She just got held up.”

“Sure. Another beer?”

What the heck. “Yeah, I’ll take one of those.” I glanced over the railing at the luminescent water, allowing myself to envision Christmas and birthdays, our wedding anniversaries. Maybe I could even learn to like chick flicks. I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought. Next, I’d be doing the laundry too. At least I had a job waiting for me on my father’s oil rig located off the coast of Alaska. Okay, so it was still a distance from Washington State, but closer than Afghanistan. The brutal job paid well and I’d only be gone for a month or so at a time. Much better than my six-to-eight-month deployments. One had even been a year to the damn day.

Yep. I was ready to move on.

Another two minutes passed and I finally texted her.

Where are you, sugar britches? I’m waiting.

We both had iPhones and when she didn’t read what I’d sent after a full three minutes had passed, I was seriously nervous. At least I thought I’d get a nasty remark in return since she hated my little nickname for her.

“Here you go, sir,” the waiter commented as he placed the beer in front of me.

I almost knocked over the bottle in my effort to stand. The second I turned around, relief flooded through me. There she was standing in the warm glow of the evening light, her long hair flowing. I was surprised she was in jeans instead of a dress, but it didn’t matter at this point. The only thing that did was my proposal and sharing a passionate evening. I would ravage her body later.

She approached tentatively, glancing at the table. Only when she was a couple of feet away did I notice the odd look on her face.

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