Page 32 of Bad Girls Don't Marry Marines (Rock Canyon, Idaho 3)

Justin crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s too bad.”

Another blast of honking ensued, and Val shot the driver a nasty look and a worse gesture before turning away from Justin and reaching for her car door. Looking over her shoulder at him, she couldn’t stop from asking, “About the guys lined up . . .”

“Yeah

?”

“I take it you’re one of them?” She already knew the answer, but the small piece of her ego that had been smashed by Cole’s designer shoes needed to hear it aloud.

He stepped up and helped her into the car, grinning. “What do you think?”

She didn’t answer before she closed the door and started her truck.

Why did you have to ask him that?

Because she was a glutton for torture and punishment.

VAL PUSHED OPEN her hotel room door and walked inside, shutting it behind her. There was one bed, dark carpet, and dusty rose-painted walls—a color that belonged in a six-year-old girl’s room.

“Classy,” she said out loud, setting down her bags and flipping on the lights. Looking off to the side, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and noted the swollen, just-been-kissed lips.

When she’d started unloading her bags, Justin had been nowhere in sight, which was probably for the best. It was the second time in a week that Justin Silverton had thought he could haul off and kiss her. Was she giving off some kind of please-kiss-me vibe? For a woman who’d sworn off men, she sure had a hard time saying no to one of them.

And he’s not exactly what Dad would call suitable.

Like she really gave a rip what her dad thought anymore. If she wanted to date Justin, she would, but she didn’t want anyone. It didn’t matter that he could turn her to mush with a word; he was probably the type of guy who thought men worked and women stayed home with the children. And even if she could have kids, she wasn’t the type of girl to sit back and let her man handle everything. Which had been just one more failure Cole had held against her.

Between Cole and her dad, she had enough man issues to last fifty years or more. When Cole had objected to something she’d done, she’d pretty much told him to screw himself, but with her dad it had been different; she used to apologize again and again for the smallest infractions and more often for the bigger ones. It was only in the last year and a half that she’d really laid down the law with him.

Now, his constant wailing about his disappointing daughters was getting on her last nerve. When was Val going to stop worrying about gaining the man’s respect? He never seemed to worry about showing her any.

She remembered a party in college, when a small group of friends had stayed up late playing strip poker. She’d loved cards and gambling—having learned to play from her Uncle Brian at a young age—and had ended up winning several hundred bucks, but not before losing her top.

Someone had posted pictures of the “local politician’s daughter’s striptease” online that had spread like wildfire. When her father had stepped out of his first senate race to “take care of his family,” it had actually been code for storming into his daughter’s dorm room at five in the morning, kicking out her roommate, and screaming at her about “decorum.”

Flopping back on the bed, tears stung Val’s eyes. Even to this day, the tirade and his angry words ate at her. She’d heard rumors later that he had backed out due to some unethical deals he’d conducted on the side, but he’d still laid all the blame at her feet. She hated that he held such sway over her, but she still seemed to hold onto her childish hopes when it came to her father. She was still that little girl, waiting to show her daddy the picture she’d drawn of them in class and have him say it was wonderful. To have him tell her he was proud of her.

Val wasn’t extraordinary; she knew that. Caroline had been valedictorian in junior high and high school, despite her bad reputation, and her father had been willing to overlook her flaws so long as she performed well. It wasn’t until she’d told him she wasn’t going to college, especially not the one he’d picked, that he had ever regarded her with anything but shiny pride.

Ellie had been born beautiful and had excelled in drama, in school, and in life. She’d done several local commercials, and despite their father’s insistence that becoming an actress was not a logical career choice, he had been impressed with her skill.

Val had been a discipline problem and, before being sent to the all-girls’ school, had been a lackluster student. The only reason she’d kicked her grades up during her junior and senior years was because she’d wanted to get into a good college far away from her father’s reach, but that hadn’t happened. It hadn’t been until the summer before college that Val had found her true calling at the Hart’s Rescue Ranch above Fairfield. Mucking stalls, bathing animals, and just playing with all of the creatures waiting to be adopted had been the best time of her life.

And the four handsome Hart boys hadn’t been a chore to be around either.

Sighing, she sat up.

That seemed to be where all her troubles lie: boys, guys, and now with one man in particular. And Justin Silverton’s effect on her spelled nothing but.

Trying to distract herself from her dark thoughts, she turned her head and looked at several black-and-white pictures hanging on the wall. She got up, crossed the room, and read the silver tags along the bottom of each.

SHELLY AND LANCE; MATCHED NOVEMBER 2003.

HAROLD AND JENNIFER; MATCHED APRIL 1991.

A dozen pictures going back a hundred years and a framed newspaper ad from the thirties about the “World-Famous True Love Festival.”

Love, blah. Who needs it?

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