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Angela and Garrett’s pre-nuptial bliss must really be getting to me.

It’s been five minutes, and Charlie’s already managed to crawl under my skin. How does someone do that? There’s an unspoken challenge in her gaze, daring me to reconsider the rules I’ve lived by my entire life. I won’t, of course. I can’t. But there’s something about her that makes me wish I could.

I love my life.

Love my job. I can’t imagine not being a Marine, despite the danger.

A long life is guaranteed to no man. Death comes for us all. But me? I flirt with disaster every time I ship out. Because of that, a serious relationship just isn’t in the cards for me. Never has been. Never will be. How could I commit my life to someone, knowing it could be cut short?

I drag a hand through my hair, trying to brush away the strange thoughts.

Five minutes, Hut. You’ve known her for five minutes.

Definitely has something to do with the wedding.

Despite my best efforts to push Charlie out of my mind, fate seems determined to keep throwing her in my path during the lead-up to Garrett and Angela’s wedding.

The bridal party spends a day on the water—another excuse for Garrett to show off his boat—and I spend most of it stealing glances at Charlie in a bikini that should be illegal. At the beach bonfire later, she and Micah get into a lively argument over who’s the reigning champion of chicken. Naturally, this escalates into an impromptu showdown in the ocean, and of course, Micah, eyes sparkling with assholery, volunteers me to be Charlie’s partner.

Because having her thighs gripping my neck like a vise isexactlywhat I need to help forget her. Great plan, Micah.

And as if that weren’t enough, the universe seats us next to each other at the rehearsal dinner. Gun to my head, I couldn’t name a single other person at the table. It’s just her and me, trading stories, teasing, laughing, and only snapping back to reality when the clink of glasses interrupts us for the toasts.

Even when I’m alone, I’m not safe. She’s there, invading my thoughts, my dreams, stealing any sense of control I thought I had.

The breaking point comes at the reception. When she asks me to dance, I don’t even hesitate. Hours later, we’re the last ones there, lingering under the moonlight, hands entwined, her thumb tracing lazy circles over my knuckle. The world narrows to just the two of us, as if this impossible connection has somehow carved its own space to exist.

“When do you ship out?” Charlie asks softly, her eyes searching mine.

“Day after tomorrow. You?”

She gives me a sad smile. “First thing in the morning. Back to Wildrose Landing.”

New England. Thousands of miles up the coast. Yet another reminder why we aren’t meant to be. The reality of our lives should be enough to end whatever this is growing between us.

It’s not.

“Would it be okay if I texted you sometime?” I ask, my voice rough, my confidence wavering like a teenager’s.

Her grin lights up the night. “I’d be pretty upset if you didn’t.”

Three weeks later

This is call sign Deployed Marine, looking for a bearing on a Charlotte Cooper

Charlie

Hey! I’ve been thinking about you! All settled in?

I mean, 10-4?

Roger that?

I’m not really experienced in military lingo

The next day

Sorry for the delay in response

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