Mommy Loves The Military Man

Cameron nodded and Mariana darted off the couch. As she skipped down the hall, Cameron slumped on the couch. Crisis averted. She thought about dashing off a message to Alex, letting him know what was going on. He was probably still on a plane, but perhaps she’d send a quick text that he’d get when he landed.

She’d let the longer text about how wrong she’d been to break up with him wait a few days, though. Or until he returned. Nothing like making up after a quarrel, if Alex still felt the same way about her.

And the one thing she knew for certain—he would come home.

And she would be waiting

* * *

Alex’s back vibrated as he leaned against the side of the Blackhawk on the last leg of his trip. Fourteen hours after he’d left D.C. and he still wasn’t where he needed to be. Every muscle in his body ached. Those seats on the C5 were so small. Who were they thinking of when they built them? Surely not a typical soldier.

He rolled his shoulder. The wall at the airfield at Ramstein had dug into his back when he tried to steal a nap.

Not that he could sleep. He had been running his last two conversations with Cameron through his mind. If only he’d had time to fix what he’d broken between them before he had to leave.

He’d reassured her, though. This was a short trip. A quick over and back to oversee final implementation of the VR system. She’d seemed okay with that. That was something he could build on when he got home.

If only he had a way to show her how close they could be, no matter the distance between them.

He smacked his head. Of course. That was a brilliant idea.

He drafted a series of emails that would send as soon as he reestablished cell service in Syria. He had some favors to call in.

Chapter Twelve

Cameron had finally gotten some sleep Saturday night and burrowed further into her covers… but what was that noise? It sounded like… a lawnmower. She threw the pillow over her head and tried to drown out the buzz. Which of her neighbors decided that mowing the lawn at eight o’clock on a Sunday morning was a good idea?

A next-door neighbor, clearly, because it seemed like it was right outside her house. She leapt up from the bed and flew to the window, yanking the drapes open just in time to see a man wearing a tan T-shirt rounding the corner of her house, pushing a lawnmower.

What in the heck?

She tugged on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and threaded her fingers through her hair. She hurried to the front door and threw it open in time to catch the man passing the front porch. She waved her hands and he bent over and turned off the mower.

“Yes, ma’am. What can I do for you?”

“You can tell me what you’re doing mowing my lawn at eight o’clock on a Sunday morning.”

The man looked sufficiently chastised. And suspiciously like someone she may have met the day Alex’s unit had been honored at the Federals game. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I finished PT at about zero-six-thirty and thought I’d waited long enough before I came over.”

She shook her head. “The time isn’t the point. What are you doing mowing my lawn?”

“Oh, right.” He reached into his pocket and handed over a piece of paper.

She opened it up… and gasped at the printed email. “Dear Cameron, I noticed your lawn was a little shaggy. I wish I could have taken care of it for you before I left, but SSG Hutchison was happy to oblige. Love, Alex.”

Heat climbed her cheeks. Alex had arranged for one of his friends to mow her lawn.

“Did you want me to come back later, ma’am? I’m happy to do so.”

“No. That’s all right. Thank you so much. When did Alex, er, Mr. Sanchez arrange to have this done?”

“Received the email last night, ma’am. Happy to help.”

Staff Sergeant Hutchison gulped some water, tucked the bottle into a holder on his waistband, fired up the lawn mower, and got back to work.

She couldn’t believe Alex had arranged this. But now that she thought about it, she absolutely could. That was classic Alex. See a problem, solve it.

And he’d shown her that he was thinking about her. Even halfway across the world.