Marine for Hire (Front and Center) Page 2

  “Well, they are twins. And now their little backsides are minty fresh and tingly.”

  “I joined a Mommy and Me group last week, and the other moms made me feel guilty about using disposable diapers on an island that already has a trash problem. I’m trying to switch to cloth, but do you have any idea how much work it is to wash diapers for two babies?”

  “I love you, Sher,” Kelli said, touching the back of her hand. “And I’ll gladly hold your hair back if you need to puke in a barroom toilet on girls’ night. But there’s no way I’m helping you wash diapers.”

  Sheri laughed and swallowed the last of her tea. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said as she set her mug down. “God, I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too,” Kelli said, squeezing her hand. “And I’m especially glad your douchebag ex is gone.” She frowned. “Was that too insensitive?”

  “Please. I spent three years married to Captain Insensitive. At this point you could tell me to go fuck myself and I’d feel giddy someone’s talking dirty to me.”

  “Is he still harassing you?”

  Sheri shrugged. “I stopped answering his calls.”

  “Maybe you need a big, burly boyfriend around to scare him off. I could fix you up with someone.”

  “No way.” Sheri shoved her mug away. “The last guy you tried to fix me up with asked me to starch his dress whites on the first date.”

  “Lesson learned. No more military men for you, I swear.”

  “No more men, period. Not right now.”

  Kelli shrugged. “Sooner or later, you need to get your mojo back. I stashed a box of super-magnum-jumbo condoms in your medicine cabinet for when the time comes. You’re welcome.”

  “You’re hopeless.” Sheri grinned. “I promise I’ll let you know when I’m ready to embrace my inner slut. In the meantime, I’m just glad to be here.”

  Kelli squeezed her hand. “I’m so happy you’re finally on Kauai. This is a tough place to find a job, and it’s even tougher to land a civilian gig at PMRF. Did you nail down your start date?”

  Sheri nodded. “Monday morning. That’s assuming the new nanny checks out. My brother insisted on hiring her, so we haven’t even met yet. He’s bringing her by in a few hours.”

  “Your brother? Which brother?” Kelli’s face lit up with excitement and Sheri fought the urge to roll her eyes.

  “MacArthur. Mac. You remember him from college?”

  “I sure do. God, I had such a crush on him—”

  “What if they love her more than me?” Sheri interrupted, not wanting Kelli to meander too far down the path of lusting after her commitment-phobic brother. “The twins, I mean. What if they love the nanny more?”

  “Impossible. You’ve got great tits.”

  “Thank you. Exactly what every woman wants to be appreciated for.”

  “You know what I mean. For—uh—nursing and stuff. Not that your nanny won’t have tits, but yours are dinner. You win.”

  “I’m bottle-feeding. And giving them soft foods from a jar instead of organic pureed stuff I made myself. More things that make me a horrible mother.”

  “You’re not a horrible mother. Knock that shit off or I’ll put you in a headlock.”

  Sheri smiled, mostly because she knew Kelli wasn’t kidding. Her friend might look dainty with her minuscule stature and a penchant for pastel sundresses, but Sheri had watched her wrestle a 160-pound pit bull to the floor of her vet clinic, and once saw her knock out a drunk frat boy with one punch when he tried to grab her ass.

  Anyone who messed with Kelli lived to regret it.

  The doorbell chimed, and Sheri jumped in her chair. In the back bedroom, both babies began to wail.

  “Shit,” she muttered, springing up from the table with a glance out the door at the big black sedan parked in her driveway. “Mac’s early. You want to let them in, or calm the boys down?”

  “A choice between ogling your hunky brother or getting pooped on. That’s a tough call.”

  “Door!” Sheri ordered as the bell chimed again and the boys went on screaming. She ran for the twins’ bedrooms and scooped up Jeffrey—or was it Jackson? No, definitely Jeffrey, though she had to check the back of his left thigh for the little birthmark to be sure. She cradled him in the crook of one arm, bouncing like a drunken kangaroo until his cries turned to soft whimpers. She laid him back down in his crib before leaning down to scoop up Jackson.

  She wished she could still hold both of them at the same time. Maybe a bigger, more competent woman could. Hopefully the nanny was one of those hefty, matronly types with huge arms and the strength of a linebacker. Or maybe one of those earthy, crunchy women who could strap both babies into one of those complicated slings Sheri could never quite figure out.

  “Shhhhh. Mommy’s here,” she whispered, bouncing the baby some more. She wasn’t sure if the bouncing and declaration was comforting or more of an annoyance, but it was the best she had to offer.

  “Hey Sher?” Kelli called from the living room. “You might want to come out here right away.”

  “Just a minute,” she singsonged, trying to keep her voice light to avoid making the twins scream. “I’ll be right there.”

  “You know that thing I said about the nanny’s tits?” Kelli said, and Sheri turned to see her friend in the doorway with an odd expression on her face. “I don’t think that’s going to be an issue.”

  Kelli stepped aside like a magician revealing a rabbit behind a curtain. But there was no rabbit.

  Instead, there was the biggest, burliest hunk of man flesh Sheri had laid eyes on since the day she and Kelli crashed a calendar shoot of shirtless Navy SEALs.

  She swallowed hard, taking in the massive biceps, the chest that strained against a too-thin T-shirt, the ramrod posture she’d seen in every member of her military family dating back to the photos of Great-Great-Great-Grandpa Garrison in his Civil War uniform.

  She swallowed again, wondering who’d sucked all the air from the room. Wondering, absurdly, if Kelli was joking about those condoms.

  Chapter Two

  Sam watched as the little blonde who’d led them through the house stepped farther into the bedroom and grinned at him and Mac. He stepped into the space behind her, conscious of the fact that he filled the whole doorframe.

  Sheri stared at him, unblinking. Her feet were bare, and she wore knee-length sweatpants that looked like they’d been caught in a wood chipper. He couldn’t tell if she was braless under her T-shirt or just very, very lush. She wore no makeup, and her chocolate curls were twisted into a sloppy topknot with something that looked like smushed carrot at the end of one ringlet.

  He had never seen anything so beautiful.

  “What the hell?” she asked.

  Okay, so the admiration wasn’t mutual.

  Mac cleared his throat, and Sam stepped aside to let his pal through the door.

  “Hey, Sher,” Mac said, gathering his sister and the whimpering baby into a gentle bear hug. “We caught an earlier connection out of Honolulu, so we got here sooner than expected. How are the little guys doing?”

  Sheri pushed herself out of the hug and gave her brother a kiss on the cheek, then shifted the baby to one arm and slugged Mac hard in the shoulder. “It’s good to see you, but you could have called, jerk!”

  “And wake up the baby? Er, babies.” Mac peered at one nephew, then the other. “God, they’re getting big. Can I hold him?”

  “Here, take Jackson. Er, Jeffrey. Whatever.” She thrust the squirming infant into his arms, smiling at her brother despite the fact that she also looked like she might want to strangle him.

  Mac pulled the baby against his chest as Sheri turned to pick up the other infant fussing in his crib. Sam took another step toward them and offered his best trust me, I’m harmless smile.

  “May I?” he said, nodding toward the baby. “I have a nephew the same age. Seven months, right?”

  Sheri stared at him like he’d suggested they take
off their clothes and finger-paint rainbows on each other’s chests, and he regretted his words instantly.

  “I’m sorry, who are you?” Her tone wasn’t angry, but it wasn’t friendly, either.

  Sam glanced at Mac, who was suddenly very interested in the top of his nephew’s head. When Mac finally met his eyes, he wore the same expression he had when the two of them got busted stealing an opposing team’s mascot in college.

  Mac cleared his throat. “Sheri, you remember Sam Kercher? Sam and I played football together in college. You two met at a party once.”

  “We did?” Sheri turned back to Sam, who forced himself not to move as she studied him. “Sorry, I don’t remember. College was an awfully long time ago.”

  Sam wasn’t sure whether to feel disappointed or pleased she didn’t recall the dorky guy who face-planted into her cleavage and then attempted thirty seconds of awkward conversation that had clearly stuck a lot more firmly in his brain than hers.

  Either way, one thing was pretty clear.

  “So, uh, Mac didn’t tell you about me?” he asked.

  Sheri’s brow crinkled and she turned to look at her brother. “Tell me what?”

  Mac cleared his throat again and shifted the baby against his chest. “I’ve spent the last two weeks conducting a pretty intensive search for your nanny, Sher. I invested a lot of time and money in the process. I met with placement agencies, advertised the position, and interviewed qualified domestic help from around the world.”

  “Very thorough of you. What a loving brother,” Kelli said, beaming at Mac like a puppy eyeing a hump-worthy shin.

  “Obviously, you gave me your list of criteria,” Mac continued. “Excellent cooking skills, good with children, experienced with diapering and childproofing a home, willing to do basic housekeeping, comfortable with a live-in position—”

  “You can’t be serious,” she said, her face registering the fact that she’d caught on to what Mac was driving at. “You hired Beefcake here as my nanny?” She looked at Sam, then flushed. “No offense. I’m sure you’re very nice.”

  “On occasion,” Sam said, and took another step forward. “It’s Sam, actually, but we can go with Mr. Beefcake if that’s more comfortable.”

  She blinked at him. “Sam,” she repeated. “Sammy the Nanny? You look more like a soldier. Or a lumberjack.”

  “I can assure you Sam is none of those things,” Mac said. “He’s a nanny. A very experienced nanny with all the qualifications you’re seeking.”

  “I think the term is manny, actually,” Kelli offered. “You know, a male nanny?”

  Mac jostled the baby in his arms, though it was evident he had more need to soothe his sister. “It’s a very common trend in families lacking a male role model—”

  “There’s no shortage of male role models in these kids’ lives,” Sheri snapped. “I have more brothers than pubic hairs, though right about now I’m thinking one less would be great.” She froze as though replaying her last words in her mind and not liking the sound of them. “Less brothers, not—”

  “There’s an aesthetician in Princeville who does a great Brazilian bikini wax,” Kelli offered, grinning. “I’ve got you covered there.”

  Sam was still reeling from the odd turn in conversation and from the fact that Mac clearly hadn’t told Sheri anything about hiring him as her nanny. Maybe Mac was counting on her not being able to say no once he was in the house. A dirty trick, since she started her new job in a few days and wouldn’t have time to find a nanny last-minute. Still, he felt lousy about it. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he should leave. Maybe he should just thank them all for their time and—

  “Shit, I think it just pooped,” Mac said, and held the baby out in front of him like something contaminated, putting as much distance as possible between his chest and the squealing infant.

  “Mac!” Sheri yelled, grabbing for her son. The jostling proved too much for the twin she already held, and he shrieked like he’d been stuck with a toothpick. Sheri stumbled as she tried to grab the baby from her brother’s arms while still keeping her grip on the other.

  Sam jumped. “Here, let me.” He snatched the baby from Mac’s arms and turned to Sheri. “Where are the diapers?”

  She opened her mouth to say something, but he didn’t wait. Spotting the changing table in the corner, he hustled the baby over and planted him on the cushioned surface. With one hand holding the little guy in place, he grabbed a baby wipe from the warmer, testing first to make sure the temperature was okay.

  He’d watched his sisters do this a million times, and he’d downloaded a diapering tutorial that he’d watched on his laptop on the flight over.

  You can do this, he commanded himself. Think.

  The baby screeched with displeasure. He studied the squirming bundle and tried to remember the steps in the video.

  Point the barrel in a safe direction and move the selector level to “safe” before pressing the magazine release button and—

  Shit, no. Those were the steps for disassembling an M16 rifle.

  Well, same idea, Sam thought as he stripped off the waterproof pants and the soggy cloth diaper, using one hand as a shield in case the little guy decided to demonstrate his aim. The diapering video he’d watched only dealt with the disposable kind, not these cloth things. He was way out of his league here, but maybe some of the steps were the same.

  Pull the charging handle toward the rear of the rifle and press the bottom of the bolt catch—

  Dammit, no. Something about safety pins or lotion maybe?

  He held the little guy in place with one hand as he grabbed a clean diaper and some pins from the basket beside him. Frowning in concentration, he cleaned off the baby, trying not to gag as he reminded himself he’d seen worse things in military mess halls.

  Unthread the sling from the metal loops on the buttstock and barrel to remove the sling from the rifle.

  No, no! Goddammit, concentrate. Or maybe those really were the right instructions? He ankle-lifted the baby and slid the fresh diaper under him, then got to work folding and fastening.

  He stabbed himself with a diaper pin but didn’t flinch, even when he saw blood welling on the tip of his thumb. He grabbed another diaper wipe and surreptitiously swiped the digit before fastening the last pin in place.

  He surveyed his work, nodding once. Not bad. Not bad at all. He’d once set a platoon record for speed of rifle assembly. This wasn’t so different, and he hadn’t gotten shot in the face.

  “There you go, little guy,” Sam said gently patting the baby’s bare belly. “Nice job.”

  The baby gave him a toothless grin and gurgled. He grinned back and scooped the baby in his arms, turning to face his audience.

  Everyone stared, no one uttering a sound. Sheri had put the other baby back in his crib at some point, so he stepped forward and placed the fresh-smelling infant in her arms.

  “Here you go,” he said, feeling stupidly dizzy as his forearm brushed her breast. “Good as new.”

  She blinked at him, then looked down at the baby. When she looked back at Sam, he felt his heart flip over in his chest.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “No problem,” he said, wondering how he could possibly feel so electrified by her with his hands covered in baby lotion and his shirt reeking of reprocessed Gerber.

  He picked up the soiled diaper from the changing table and handed it to Mac without tearing his eyes off Sheri. Mac grunted in protest, but took the diaper anyway.

  Sheri smiled at Sam. “When can you start?”

  …

  Five years ago, my idea of sexy was a guy who picked up the tab for my tequila shots while I danced on the table with my girlfriends, Sheri thought. Now I’m ready to throw my panties at a guy who knows which end of the baby to put the diaper on?

  She shook her head. “I really need to get out more.”

  “What?” Sam asked, and Sheri was startled to realize she’d spoken aloud. Again. She opened her m
outh to give an explanation, but Kelli beat her to it.

  “She talks to herself a lot these days,” Kelli offered. “But she says a lot of good stuff, so pay attention.” Kelli squeezed her hand and grinned. “You’re right, Sher. You should get out. You’re starting a new job Monday, and if you’re planning to wear any of those things we unpacked last week, I’m going to set fire to your closet right now.”

  Sheri sighed. “I have clothes.”

  True, she’d been avoiding trying most of them on or stepping on a scale to see if she was anywhere near her pre-pregnancy weight, but surely she had something that would fit right.

  “Even if you don’t want new clothes for work, you’ll need them when you start dating,” Kelli pointed out. “Remember what I said about getting your mojo back?”

  “I need a boyfriend like I need a toenail fungus.”

  “You’ll be ready sooner or later,” Kelli said. “And at least here on Kauai, your odds are better of finding someone who’s not an overbearing military jerk like your ex.” She flashed a grin at Mac. “No offense.”

  “None taken.”

  “I’m not dating,” Sheri said. “Not military men, not chest-thumping alpha males, and definitely not two-faced, dishonest bastards who pretend to be honorable when they’re lying to your face.”

  Sam coughed, and Sheri turned to look at him. “You’re not getting sick, are you?”

  “No,” he said, a little red-faced. “No, of course not. Fit as a fiddle.”

  “I see,” she said, trying not to notice his biceps or chest or any other fit body parts.

  Mac caught her eye and gave her a stern look. She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him like she might have in high school when he warned her away from dating his buddies. She had plenty of her own reasons for not getting bowled over by the force of her own hormones. Still, a girl could look—

  “Come on,” Kelli said, grabbing her arm. “These two muscleheads can watch the twins. Macy’s is having a sale, so we can head to Lihue and get a manicure while we’re at it. Maybe even a haircut. You want to look good on your first day, right?”