Page 61 of Somewhere You Belong

“Here we are,” Astrid says to me, weaving her arm through the crook of mine. “Just breathe and stay around here. I’m going to go get us two glasses of champagne.”

“Yeah. Champagne sounds nice.” I watch her walk away and then survey the room, attempting to see if I know anyone while I listen to my heartbeat in my ears.

It almost feels like the entire town is here tonight. But based off what Astrid has told me about the camaraderie here, I wouldn’t be surprised if that were true.

Large poster boards displaying pictures are set up around the edge of the room on gold easels, so I walk toward one to admire the faces staring back at me. Groups of Marines and local veterans stand proudly shoulder to shoulder, dressed in their respective uniforms, or gathered together at local events with stoic expressions on their faces.

“Here you go.” Astrid comes up behind me and hands me a glass of champagne, pulling my attention from the photos.

“Thank you. I don’t know what I was expecting, but this is quite the event.”

“They seem to have upped their game this year.” She looks around the room. “It gets better every year, but they definitely put in extra effort tonight. Probably to honor Mr. Sheppard.”

Sheppard?

It can’t be.

But before I can give this revelation more thought, I’m pulled back to the room full of people around us.

“Astrid Cooper, dear. You look lovely.” A woman approaches us, and I immediately recognize her from the chair fiasco at the hardware store. She pulls Astrid in for a hug while my heart continues to hammer.

“Hello, Mrs. Hansen. How are you?”

“Doing well, dear. How are you?”

“Oh, just grateful to have a night away from the kids.” They share a laugh.

“I remember those days well. Enjoy the time for yourself.” She looks around Astrid and finds me, her eyes going wide. “Willow? Is that you?” Her eyes bounce up and down my body as she assesses me, but the same kindness in her voice she had speaking with Astrid is now laced with curiosity.

“Yes. Hello, Mrs. Hansen. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Likewise, Willow. I must say, it’s a surprise to see you here.”

Great. Even other people are picking up on my hermit tendencies. “Yes, well, I thought this event was worth venturing out of the house for.”

“Hmm. And how is that chair working out for you?” she asks, referring to our encounter from almost a month ago now.

Reigning in my desire to be snarky, I reply as sweetly as possible, “Perfectly. Thank you. Well, thanks to Dallas, really.”

“Glad to hear. I hope you’re finding Carrington Cove to be welcoming to you.”

“For the most part it has.”

“Except for the asshole you met at Catch & Release your first night here, huh?”

I spin around to find Dallas standing behind us, clearly eavesdropping on our conversation with a pleased smirk on his face. But it’s what he’s dressed in that’s taking my breath away.

I feel like Rachel in that episode ofFriendswhere Ross comes into Central Perk, dressed in a Navy Sailor’s uniform, fulfilling one of her fantasies.

Except Dallas is wearing his Marine dress blues, and I didn’t know that a man dressed in uniform was one ofmyfantasies until now.

I’ve seen many men in a suit, but none of them even compared to the fine male specimen standing in front of me. And the worst part is, he’s not even trying—he just does so effortlessly.

He’s wearing that uniform like it was designed just for his body.

It makes me both hate him and want him even more.

It’s bad enough that Dallas is the type of man that is good-looking in a rugged way—amanlyway—the type of man that makes blue jeans and a simple black shirt look like a coat of armor or the newest version of male lingerie. His aviators seem custom-made to highlight the sharp lines of his face, and when he takes them off to reveal his eyes can hold you captive with a searing power that makes you feel frozen in place.

---