Page 36 of The Marine's Homecoming

"Good. You need it." He stands there awkwardly, like he has no intention of walking away but also doesn't feel quite comfortable making himself at home. He clearly wants an invitation to sit and talk, and I guess since we're in public surrounded by a horde of people, it wouldn't hurt to chat.

"You can sit down if you want," I say, but I cringe inwardly. A month ago, I would've let him walk past and been relieved. But something's shifted since his warning about Dorsey, and I've been turning his words over in my head for more than a week now. Luke deserves my respect, even if I feel out of place, and definitely out of my comfort zone, speaking to him.

Without any hesitation, he drops to the corner of my blanket and stretches his legs out, leaning back on his hands and staring out at the water. I notice the rivulets of sweat rolling down his bronzed chest and feel my body warm to the idea of seeing this daily. He's such a good-looking man, not at all the scrawny teenager I crushed on more than a decade ago. I'm sure he probably has thoughts about me too, though other than in the heat of the moment, he's not said them to me out loud.

"How are you feeling?" he asks after a minute.

"Better today. I actually slept." I close the book and set it to the side, deciding I'm not going to get a chance to read any more right now.

"Yeah?"

"Almost nine hours," I say with a grin, feeling more comfortable around him now that he knows about the baby. It's still a little tense and a little awkward, though.

He's fishing, though I can tell it's from genuine concern. He's not just being nosy, and I don't get the feeling that he's trying to control me, either. "You eating okay?"

"Toast and crackers, mostly. Some things still hit me wrong, but I'm keeping food down better than I was." I feel myself shrinking inward. Talking about this just feels like dancing around an elephant that could squash me. He won't just come out and admit he's worried or cares, but he's showing it by asking about me, at least.

"Can I get you anything? I've got water and some fruit up at the house if you want it."

"I'm okay. I brought supplies." I hold up the bag of crackers and he smiles.

A kid runs past us chasing a kite that's dragging in the sand, and we both watch him go. It's a welcome distraction from the tension that crackles between us the way chemistry used to. Funny how that chemistry can make us want each other, yet the consequence of indulgence in that chemistry makes things difficult.

"I've been thinking about what you said," I tell him, and he turns to face me. "About Dorsey…"

"Mmm," Luke hums. He draws his knees up and rests his arms on them, hooking his fingers together like he's interested but not wanting to push. But I see the tension ripple across his shoulders. He really hates this guy for some reason, and I'd be stupid not to listen to his body language.

"When he first offered to help with the festival, he asked to see my full vendor list. Names, quantities, delivery schedules, all of it. I gave it to him because he said he could negotiate better rates and I was drowning. He told me he'd handle procurement, so I let him." It's something I've been dwelling on—how trusting I've been with a man I don’t even know. But it's his money, which is why I told myself he should handle this stuff.

"Yeah?" Luke turns more toward me, sitting cross-legged now with his back hunched. I don't like that I feel guilty for telling him all of this, but I haven't had a good feeling about Dorsey in weeks now.

"But after you told me you were worried about Dorsey, I went back through my files. Every vendor I selected is domestic, but then some of these POs are foreign. So I confirmed my orderswith all of them, but a few told me their orders were canceled." And if my orders were canceled, then who did that and where did my stuff go? And whose stuff is in those crates being brought in and stored across town?

Luke's jaw tightens. "Canceled by whom?"

"I guess someone called on Dorsey's behalf and canceled the bulk orders for staging materials and tent supplies."

"And you didn't authorize that…" Now Luke doesn’t just look suspicious. He looks angry.

"I didn't authorize that. I didn't even know about it until I called to confirm delivery timelines." I pull at a thread on the edge of my blanket and wind it around my finger. "And the permit applications he gave me to sign last week had line items I've never seen before. Equipment rentals from companies I can't find online. Budget allocations for categories that weren't in my original plan. When I asked him about it, he said they were contingency items and that every large event needs a buffer. It's what we were arguing about that day."

"And you signed them?"

"Well, yes. I signed the ones I could verify. But he wanted everything signed and submitted that day and I told him I wouldn't sign anything I couldn't account for."

Luke picks up a handful of sand and lets it run through his fingers, watching it fall. "What did he say to that?"

"Well, you saw the result of that…" The breeze tosses my hair into my face and I flick it back over my shoulder, but I don't miss the scowl on Luke's face. He's thinking things, and it looks likein his mind he's already deciding that Dorsey is evil. I'm not fully sold on that fact, but I don't think he's a saint.

I turn and look at him straight on. "What do you think is in those crates?"

"I don't know yet. But I know it's not tent poles and stage lights."

"You really think he's using the festival as cover for something?" This makes me feel sick, but not morning-sickness sick. I feel used and dirty now. Dorsey is trying really hard to pull one over on me.

"I think the pattern fits, and I think you're smart enough to see it now that you're looking."

It's scary, honestly. Once I started looking I couldn't stop, and every detail I'd brushed off before started materializing into more and more proof that Luke might just be right.