Stolen September: A Military Romance

Bea softens and says, “When are you not hungry?” She turns in my arms and the heat in her eyes matches mine.

“For you? Always.”

“Well, I need to sort myself out. You don’t get breakfast because you stole dessert.”

I attempt to kiss her lips again, but she presses her finger against mine, stalling me. I nip at the digit, loving the way she has to contain her squeal.

“Not even a taste?” I ask, reminding her of before. We would share dessert each time we went out. It didn’t matter if it was a milkshake at

the diner or a piece of pie she brought from her mom’s kitchen under the cover of darkness and bright summer starlight.

“Not if you want more, Tank.” Beatrice is serious. If I want more than a taste of this girl, I have to put all my effort into winning her back.

3

Bea

I hear the rumble as Tank pulls up to my parents’ house in his older electric blue Ford Mustang. The racing stripe down the middle and the custom paint job makes his eyes pop, and I do my best to not dream about the summer and how he loved to talk about his car. I chuckle because at first I thought he was bragging about his car like it was his cock, but everything Tank did was just bigger and better. I bounce over to the window and peek out between the lace curtains, watching him get out of his car. My whole body succumbs to a shiver, thinking about the drives we would take to the lake and how he’d rev the engine, making my core twitch with anticipated need. Back then I admired the way he handled the manual transmission of the car as much as the way he played with my body each night.

I’m falling hard under his spell and we haven’t even reconnected fully. I’m doing my best to remain level-headed, and failing abysmally in the short amount of time he’s been back. Lust is clouding my mind. He apologized last night, but I’m skeptical and still hurt that he left me so easily once before. What’s to say Tank wouldn’t leave me again?

After our buggy ride, I left him to rejoin my family. I didn’t tell them what happened and no one asked. My cousins shot me odd glances and I know they saw Tank kiss me. My cheeks could have been twin space heaters, the way I flushed. I knotted my scarf tighter around my neck, not caring if I suffocated myself. My parents, however—they had a ton of questions once they sent the aunts off and it was just us at the table nibbling on pumpkin pie. Mom gave my neck a suspicious glance, like she could see the brand he almost left marking my skin. Dad is convinced old habits are hard to break and he tried to point out that joining the military is a huge decision and a big responsibility. We’re both young.

Dad is the only one home right now, and while I’m sure he’s ready to go to battle, he’s been sitting in his recliner most of the day reading the paper, drinking coffee, and eating leftovers while patting his gently rounded belly. He reminds me of a chonky cat waiting to pounce. It’s rare he takes a day off. I’m guessing he’s enjoying the quiet of a mostly empty estrogen-filled house and I can’t blame him. The aunts pretty much made themselves a pair of foam fingers, chanting “Team Tank,” among other obscene things, until my mother dragged them out to the outlet stores for Black Friday shopping.

I’m standing in the hallway as the knock sounds, freezing me in place. I glance into the living room and watch Dad turn to look at me. His kind eyes say more than words.

“You going to get that, Sweet Bea?” He prepares to get up and send Tank away if I ask.

I wave my hand for him to sit back down. Dad will always be my protector, no matter how old I am and grown up I try to be.

I stand in front of the door and hear Tank’s second knock. It’s more hesitant this time, like he’s wondering if I’ll open the door. It’s not that I don’t want to formally introduce Tank to my parents, but I feel like we need to hash a few things out before I upend my life emotionally all over again. I wasn’t the easiest to live with the past few weeks, and my parents aren’t exactly thrilled that I refunded my fall tuition in place of a job here in town with no real explanation other than needing to find myself before I invested thousands of dollars in a degree that would make me miserable. I had no idea what made me happy or sad, except for Tank’s sudden exit from my life.

I open the door and stare at Tank for a second before leaning back to say, “Yeah, Daddy. I got it.”

“I know you do.” He nods, resuming his reading as I quickly open the door and slip out. He’s mastered the art of letting me fight my own battles, but I’ll always be Daddy’s little girl. I’ve already left my mom a note on the fridge, letting her know I’ll be out late and to not wait up. I’m too old for a curfew, but never too old for her to care.

“Bea.” Tank takes my hand, leading me down to the car with a hurried step. He opens the door, fingers tapping while I get in. He leans in to pull the seat belt over me, clicking it in place. Our eyes lock on one another and the intensity of his blues unnerves me. Minty breath puffs from his lips dangerously close to my own, teasing me. He’s protective, a little pushy, but oh so gentlemanly. His momma must have taught him well. He pushes back with a smile and gets in the car on his side.

“So, dinner.” Feeling awkward, I fiddle with the strap of my purse. We shared plenty of meals before, so this shouldn’t feel strange. The car is permeated with his fresh cologne after a shower, and the close proximity of the car has me thinking of other things, wetter things. Dinner is clearly the last thing on the list.

“Relax, Honeybee. I don’t want to start with dessert. I want to savor your company.”

I chuckle. “Smooth words. They teach you that at boot camp?”

“Oh, ye of little faith, my beauty.” His head inclines toward me, a smile creases his sculpted cheekbones, and my damn heart goes all fluttery in response. I’m hopeless against his wiles.

Tank drives across town to a cute little bistro that’s made up to look like an Italian garden. Soft white lights frame the outdoor garden, with tall heater lamps keeping away the chill. It feels like we stepped into a completely different country, and despite it being winter, we take off our jackets in the enclosed garden restaurant.

A waiter takes our order and Tank requests a nice red wine to go with our dinner. It has a fancy name I don’t recognize, considering my usual was cheap Boone’s or a beer on tap at the pool hall. A plate of fresh bruschetta comes, followed by a colorful antipasto served family style. Chicken parmesan follows, along with a bowl of pasta. We’ll never eat all of it and Tank doesn’t care. He’s too busy watching me eat each bite and making me blush.

“If I had to do it all over again…” he starts.

I put my hand on his. “Don’t. Let’s just enjoy this.” A silent agreement passes between us and we finish dinner, letting the staff box up the rest to take home. Doing this once was enough; I’m not built for emotional upheaval like this. I’m falling for him fast all over again, and I don’t want to get lost.

“I can’t stop looking at you.” He cups my face in his hands.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer when you leave,” I softly sass back earning me a laugh from Tank that shakes his whole body.