Julie Miller - Military Grade Mistletoe

Now she was rambling? Harry was still replaying all the dialogue in his head to catch everything she’d said. “You’re welcome. I was just doing my job. Thank you for your letters. They meant a lot to me.”

“You’re welcome. And I was just doing my job.” She pulled two turquoise mugs from an upper cabinet while the earthy smell of coffee brewing filled the room. “You’re home on leave for the holidays, I imagine. Are you visiting Hope?”

“I’m staying with my sister and her husband for a few days.”

“How’s their little boy? He’s about two, right?”

“Gideon is...” A little afraid of the growly uncle who was rooming with him for the time being. Or maybe the fact that Harry was a little afraid of holding his energetic nephew without breaking him was what created the awkward tension between them. Who was he kidding? Pretty much every relationship was awkward for him right now. “Yeah, he’s two in a couple of months.”

“And Hope is pregnant with baby number two? That’s good news. Although that apartment over her bridal shop only has two bedrooms, doesn’t it? She and Pike will have to be looking for a bigger place soon.” Daisy filled two mugs and carried them to the counter across from him. Although that bulky knit sweater covered the interesting bits between her neck and thighs, her leggings and boots hinted at earth-mother curves. He was busy filling in with his imagination the shape he couldn’t see, enjoying the mental exercise a little more than he should when she set a fragrant, steaming mug in front of him, and cradled the other between her hands, warming her fingers. “What can I do for you, Master Sergeant?”

Harry dutifully pulled his gaze up to the blue eyes behind her glasses. “Top. You don’t have to call me Master Sergeant every time. Top is the nickname for an NCO of my rank.”

“All right, Top. What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to meet you in person and thank you for your letters.”

“You said that already.” She picked up a red-nosed reindeer cookie and dipped it into her coffee before taking a bite, waiting for him to continue.

Exactly how did a guy broach a subject like I need the woman from those letters to help me regain my sanity? The golden, ethereal one with the soft voice, gentle touch and quiet mien I imagined in my dreams? I need that angel’s healing touch. He definitely didn’t need a woman who talked nonstop, owned a pack of dogs and triggered a lustful curiosity he hadn’t acknowledged for longer than he cared to admit. Harry picked up his mug by the handle, then turned it in his hands, staring down into the dark brew that reminded him of one of the colors of her hair. “Writing your students gave my unit something to do during the slow times. Getting those letters could really... You know, some days were harder than others, and, um...” This wasn’t right. She wasn’t right. Time to abort this crazy ass mission and call one of the shrinks Lt. Col. Biro had recommended for him. Harry set his mug down on the counter with enough force to slosh the coffee over the edge. “Sorry.” He shook the hot liquid off his skin and shot abruptly to his feet. “Now’s not a good time, is it?” While she retrieved a dish cloth to clean up his mess, he grabbed his gloves and headed toward the front door. “Sorry to show up on your doorstep unannounced.”

“You haven’t even touched your coffee.” Harry strode past the trio of dogs who hopped to their feet to follow him. He heard Daisy’s boots on the floor boards behind him. “You must have stopped by for some reason. We have lots to talk about, don’t we? Your dog, Tango? Your friends who were wounded in that IED explosion? Are they okay? Were you hurt? I mean, I can see the scars, so clearly you were, but—”

“That was a different skirmish.”

“You were hurt more than once?” Harry had his cap on, his coat zipped and the front door open when Daisy grabbed his arm with both hands and tugged him to a halt. “Wait.”

Her fingers curled into the sleeve of his coat, tightening their hold on him. Harry glanced down at her white-knuckled grip, frowning at the unexpected urgency in her touch before angling around to face her.

“Please don’t leave.” Her face was tipped up, her eyes searching his as if she was struggling to come up with the right words to say. Odd. Words didn’t seem to be a problem for her. “If you really have to go, I understand. And if you don’t want to talk, that’s okay. But...” She looked back over her shoulder, past the dogs and holiday decorations before she finally let go of his sleeve and shrugged. “Totally unrelated thing, but, before you go, would you do me a favor? I’m not saying you owe me anything. I mean, you barely know me—”

“I know you better than most people.” Correction. He knew the person who’d been his lifeline to normalcy and home and hope. This chatterbox with the wild hair and effusive personality felt like someone different. “After reading your letters, that is. You shared a lot. About your ex, your parents, this house...” He glanced around at the refinished wood and fresh paint of the drafty old Colonial that was far too big for one person—even if she did live with a pack of dogs. “Some of your school stories made me laugh or made me want to wring someone’s neck.”

She took half a step back. “You remember all that?”

He’d memorized nearly every sentence. Laughter. Concerns. Wisdom. Compassion. The Daisy Gunderson he knew had shared her heart.

“I know the men and women I work with,” he clarified. “My sister and her husband... I mean, you’re not the only person I know.”

He couldn’t tell if the pinch at the corners of her mouth and eyes meant she was touched by his confession, or if she felt a little sad to learn how few connections he had outside the Marine Corps. “Thank you. I feel like I know you better than someone I just met a few minutes ago, too. You wrote some touching things that, well, some of them made me cry.”

He made her cry? Harry shifted uncomfortably inside his coat. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. You shared the truth about what was on your mind, what you were feeling. I was honored.” She hugged her arms around her middle. “You made me smile sometimes, too.”

So why wasn’t he seeing that smile? The Daisy in his dreams always smiled. This was not going well. Daisy Gunderson was supposed to have a serene smile and a calm demeanor that made all the crap he had to deal with go away. But just because the real Daisy didn’t fit the ethereal angel he’d imagined, it didn’t mean he should blow her off. “You were going to ask me something?”

“Right.” She shrugged one shoulder. Then she pointed at him, at herself, then back at him. “I’m here by myself and I wondered... Would you...?”

Now she couldn’t come up with words? “Ma’am, I really should be going.”

Her manic energy returned in a burst that faded into breathless hesitation. “One. Don’t call me ma’am. My students call me ma’am, and it’s after hours and I’m off duty. Besides, it makes me feel like I’m old enough to be your mother. And two... I could use a man right now.” Now wasn’t that a suggestive request. The parts of him south of his belt buckle stirred with interest, even as his chest squeezed with anxiety at the possibility she wanted something more than a pen pal, too. “But I don’t have a big brother or a boyfriend or a dad to call and...” She gestured down the hallway toward the back of the house. “Would you check something out for me?”

His disappointment surprised him more than the relief he felt. “You’ve got a problem?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” She tucked a stray lock of hair back into the purple and brown waves behind her ear. “I hope not, but...”