Barbed Wire Bandages, page 16
Her hands shot up to cover her mouth as she cringed.
“Shit. I'm sorry. Garrison's told me so much about you, I feel like I know you. I forget we haven't actually met.” She giggled and stuck out a hand. “Bridget Warner, nice to finally meet you.”
He lifted her hand and laid a gentle kiss to her knuckles.
“Owen Ramsey, and the pleasure's all mine.”
“Get your skank-ass lips off my fiance, Ramsey.”
Owen turned to find Garrison jogging down the steps to meet him, a broad grin peeking through the beard he'd started to grow.
“Whoa, mountain man. I'm looking for Garrison Beckett. You didn't eat him, did you?”
“Don't hate the beard.” He pulled Owen in for a crushing, slapping, overly-physical hug before holding him out at arms length and narrowing his eyes. “You can hate the house, the dog, the job, you can even hate the wife... but don't hate the beard.”
“Fiance,” Bridget said, cuddling up to his side. “With talk like that, I might not want to take on that new title.”
“And I wouldn't blame you one bit,” Owen chimed in.
“Can it, Ramsey.” Garrison laid a hand on Owen's shoulder and turned him toward the house. “You hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Oh! Montey's just opened last week!” Bridget hopped up and down excitedly. “Why don't we try it out so I don't have to cook tonight?”
“Works for me.” Garrison turned. “Montey's is a new burger joint in town. They serve other things, but I think the menu's pretty limited.”
“Say no more,” Owen waved dismissively. “You had me at burger.”
Inside Montey's, the trio found a table in the corner and settled in behind menus and complimentary peanuts. After ordering and catching up on Owen's transition from Marine to civilian, Garrison cleared his throat and pulled something from his shirt pocket. He unfolded the single white sheet of paper and Owen eyed his friend over the rim of his cup, wondering what he was up to.
After smoothing out the wrinkles, Garrison slid the mystery sheet across the table. Both Owen and Bridget leaned forward in interest.
“What's this?” Owen asked, his eyes hopping from Garrison to what seemed to be an ad.
“A job opening.”
Bridget leaned in close and turned the paper so both she and Owen could read.
“Wait, this is a teaching position.”
She looked back to her fiance, puzzled.
“And Ramsey here just happened to get his degree in secondary education before he enlisted.” He nodded proudly, and then turned to his friend. “You might have to take some sort of class or get a certificate that lapsed- I dunno how that works, but Mr. Brazeal was pretty excited about the idea of bringing in new blood.”
Owen pushed the paper away, already shooting down the very idea of going back to his teaching roots.
“I don't know. Till Park?” He said, looking around the tiny restaurant. “You really see me living in a place like this?”
“This restaurant?” Garrison deadpanned. “No. I don't. But there's more to Till Park than this crap stretch of stores and eateries.”
“Ha,” Owen chuckled. “Eateries.”
Garrison grumbled in frustration but shoved the paper back toward his friend.
“All you've done since you got out is wander. You need direction, man.”
“Moving to a podunk town to take a job with shitty pay and minimal benefits isn't really the direction I had in mind.”
Garrison slumped back in his chair, eyeing his friend carefully. Owen knew that look and he knew it well. He was plotting. Planning. Getting ready to wager...
“You apply for this job... you can keep the Harley.”
Bridget's jaw fell slack as Owen scooted closer to the table and propped his chin on his fist.
“You're telling me that you're gonna give me your bike if I apply? Just apply?”
“No,” he shook his head. “You think I'm a dumbass? You apply, you get it, you sign a contract with the school, and then the bike is yours.”
Bridget raised a finger to interrupt. “Not to throw a wrench in your plans or anything, babe... but why are you pushing this so hard?”
“Because I think Owen could be happy here.”
“Just because you're happy here, doesn't mean I would be,” Owen argued. “Besides, I don't even know if-”
His voice cut off as plates of food clattered around their feet. They all looked over the edge of the table to find their waitress on the floor.
“Trish! Are you okay?”
Bridget scooted out from the table, followed closely by Garrison. Owen had already dropped to the floor and was offering the woman a hand. When he pulled her up and helped her into his chair, he ran his eyes down her body, looking for injuries.
“Anyone have a first aid kit?” He asked, inspecting a scrape on her bare knee.
“I've got one in my purse.”
Bridget stood from where her and Garrison were scraping food back onto plates and dug through her purse. Owen held his hand out blindly and she slapped the small plastic container in his hand before going back to work.
A busboy hustled over and began sweeping up the mess while the rest of the Till Park natives continued to eat in silence.
“Looks like you've got some splinters in there,” Owen said, opening a packet of antiseptic wipes. “I'll have to-”
Words left him as he glanced up and was instantly ensnared in two wide, amber eyes, heavy lashes, a mane of messy blonde curls, and a blush too beautiful for words.
“I- uh...”
He flinched when someone laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Owen Riley, this is Trish Mackey. Trish, this is Garrison's friend Owen.” Bridget smiled, a conspiratorial light in her eyes. “Fresh out of the Marines.”
“Um, hi,” the blonde whispered, obviously embarrassed by her crash and burn.
“Hi.” Owen blinked dumbly, not knowing what else to say.
He locked his lips tight and continued cleaning her knee, not trusting himself to speak in fear of saying something ridiculously stupid. When she was bandaged up and the floor was spotless, she stood and wrung her hands, struggling to make eye contact.
“Sorry. Um, thank you...”
“Owen,” he supplied.
“Right,” she smiled, a soft wisp of a thing that was there one second and gone the next. “Thank you, Owen.”
Without tearing his eyes away from her retreating form, Owen sank back into his seat, reached across the table, and grabbed the abandoned paper.
“I'll call Mr. Brazeal and set up a time the two of you can meet.” Garrison made little effort to conceal his victorious grin. But Owen kept his eyes on the blonde behind the counter. The one who was still blushing furiously and trying not to look his way.
“Yeah,” he said, smiling like a fool as he pocketed the paper. “You do that.”
Turn the page for a bonus scene from
Barbed Wire Bandages...
Two hours later, every Marine he'd ever befriended at the Albany base was gathered in his apartment, all for the sole purpose of helping Garrison win back Bridget. In the most humiliating way possible.
“This is a horrible idea.”
Owen waved him away. “This is the best idea I've ever had.”
“A bunch of Marines standing around taking pictures of a naked dude? That's the best idea you've ever had?” Garrison rubbed his face, wondering how in the hell Owen talked him into what was sure to be the most mortifying experience of his life. “I'd hate to see how some of your bad ideas have turned out.”
“Relax. We're all friends here.”
Peterson, a firefighter-turned-Marine, approached the two of them, waving something in his hands.
“I brought a little inspiration,” he said, swinging his hips as he snickered. It was clear the guys were having way too much fun at Garrison's expense.
“What's that?” Garrison took what turned out to be a calendar from Peterson's hands and immediately cringed. “Are you fucking kidding me with this? Really?”
“Hey, you said aim for humiliating. I figured a Marine in a pinup pose would qualify.”
Garrison tossed the calendar on his dining room table.
“Suddenly, I'm not so enthusiastic about this plan.”
“That's okay,” Owen slapped his back. “We'll bring the enthusiasm. You bring the buns.”
“Eat me.”
Gray, a man Garrison had went through basic training with, entered the room with a smile.
“Backdrop's all set, ladies. Let's do this.”
They all shoved Garrison back and forth playfully as he slapped at their hands. This was the family he'd loved for the last decade. Some had come and gone, and others he'd only known for a short time, but they were the people that had been there for him whenever he needed a rock, a shoulder to lean on, a wingman, or a spotter.
They were also the family he'd be giving up if he moved back to Till Park. But something told him, they weren't done with him. Not yet. No matter the distance, they'd always be there for him. They would always be his brothers. And Bridget... well, she was worth it.
“Okay, okay! I'm going!” He fought off their hands, smiling at the easy camaraderie that sometimes made him question if choosing not to reenlist was the right decision. “The sooner this is over, the sooner I can bludgeon all of you for talking me into this.”
Owen swiped Garrison's cell phone off the table and pointed to the bedroom with laughter in his eyes.
“Enough talk, tough guy. It's time to strip.”
Catherine Black, Barbed Wire Bandages
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“Shit. I'm sorry. Garrison's told me so much about you, I feel like I know you. I forget we haven't actually met.” She giggled and stuck out a hand. “Bridget Warner, nice to finally meet you.”
He lifted her hand and laid a gentle kiss to her knuckles.
“Owen Ramsey, and the pleasure's all mine.”
“Get your skank-ass lips off my fiance, Ramsey.”
Owen turned to find Garrison jogging down the steps to meet him, a broad grin peeking through the beard he'd started to grow.
“Whoa, mountain man. I'm looking for Garrison Beckett. You didn't eat him, did you?”
“Don't hate the beard.” He pulled Owen in for a crushing, slapping, overly-physical hug before holding him out at arms length and narrowing his eyes. “You can hate the house, the dog, the job, you can even hate the wife... but don't hate the beard.”
“Fiance,” Bridget said, cuddling up to his side. “With talk like that, I might not want to take on that new title.”
“And I wouldn't blame you one bit,” Owen chimed in.
“Can it, Ramsey.” Garrison laid a hand on Owen's shoulder and turned him toward the house. “You hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Oh! Montey's just opened last week!” Bridget hopped up and down excitedly. “Why don't we try it out so I don't have to cook tonight?”
“Works for me.” Garrison turned. “Montey's is a new burger joint in town. They serve other things, but I think the menu's pretty limited.”
“Say no more,” Owen waved dismissively. “You had me at burger.”
Inside Montey's, the trio found a table in the corner and settled in behind menus and complimentary peanuts. After ordering and catching up on Owen's transition from Marine to civilian, Garrison cleared his throat and pulled something from his shirt pocket. He unfolded the single white sheet of paper and Owen eyed his friend over the rim of his cup, wondering what he was up to.
After smoothing out the wrinkles, Garrison slid the mystery sheet across the table. Both Owen and Bridget leaned forward in interest.
“What's this?” Owen asked, his eyes hopping from Garrison to what seemed to be an ad.
“A job opening.”
Bridget leaned in close and turned the paper so both she and Owen could read.
“Wait, this is a teaching position.”
She looked back to her fiance, puzzled.
“And Ramsey here just happened to get his degree in secondary education before he enlisted.” He nodded proudly, and then turned to his friend. “You might have to take some sort of class or get a certificate that lapsed- I dunno how that works, but Mr. Brazeal was pretty excited about the idea of bringing in new blood.”
Owen pushed the paper away, already shooting down the very idea of going back to his teaching roots.
“I don't know. Till Park?” He said, looking around the tiny restaurant. “You really see me living in a place like this?”
“This restaurant?” Garrison deadpanned. “No. I don't. But there's more to Till Park than this crap stretch of stores and eateries.”
“Ha,” Owen chuckled. “Eateries.”
Garrison grumbled in frustration but shoved the paper back toward his friend.
“All you've done since you got out is wander. You need direction, man.”
“Moving to a podunk town to take a job with shitty pay and minimal benefits isn't really the direction I had in mind.”
Garrison slumped back in his chair, eyeing his friend carefully. Owen knew that look and he knew it well. He was plotting. Planning. Getting ready to wager...
“You apply for this job... you can keep the Harley.”
Bridget's jaw fell slack as Owen scooted closer to the table and propped his chin on his fist.
“You're telling me that you're gonna give me your bike if I apply? Just apply?”
“No,” he shook his head. “You think I'm a dumbass? You apply, you get it, you sign a contract with the school, and then the bike is yours.”
Bridget raised a finger to interrupt. “Not to throw a wrench in your plans or anything, babe... but why are you pushing this so hard?”
“Because I think Owen could be happy here.”
“Just because you're happy here, doesn't mean I would be,” Owen argued. “Besides, I don't even know if-”
His voice cut off as plates of food clattered around their feet. They all looked over the edge of the table to find their waitress on the floor.
“Trish! Are you okay?”
Bridget scooted out from the table, followed closely by Garrison. Owen had already dropped to the floor and was offering the woman a hand. When he pulled her up and helped her into his chair, he ran his eyes down her body, looking for injuries.
“Anyone have a first aid kit?” He asked, inspecting a scrape on her bare knee.
“I've got one in my purse.”
Bridget stood from where her and Garrison were scraping food back onto plates and dug through her purse. Owen held his hand out blindly and she slapped the small plastic container in his hand before going back to work.
A busboy hustled over and began sweeping up the mess while the rest of the Till Park natives continued to eat in silence.
“Looks like you've got some splinters in there,” Owen said, opening a packet of antiseptic wipes. “I'll have to-”
Words left him as he glanced up and was instantly ensnared in two wide, amber eyes, heavy lashes, a mane of messy blonde curls, and a blush too beautiful for words.
“I- uh...”
He flinched when someone laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Owen Riley, this is Trish Mackey. Trish, this is Garrison's friend Owen.” Bridget smiled, a conspiratorial light in her eyes. “Fresh out of the Marines.”
“Um, hi,” the blonde whispered, obviously embarrassed by her crash and burn.
“Hi.” Owen blinked dumbly, not knowing what else to say.
He locked his lips tight and continued cleaning her knee, not trusting himself to speak in fear of saying something ridiculously stupid. When she was bandaged up and the floor was spotless, she stood and wrung her hands, struggling to make eye contact.
“Sorry. Um, thank you...”
“Owen,” he supplied.
“Right,” she smiled, a soft wisp of a thing that was there one second and gone the next. “Thank you, Owen.”
Without tearing his eyes away from her retreating form, Owen sank back into his seat, reached across the table, and grabbed the abandoned paper.
“I'll call Mr. Brazeal and set up a time the two of you can meet.” Garrison made little effort to conceal his victorious grin. But Owen kept his eyes on the blonde behind the counter. The one who was still blushing furiously and trying not to look his way.
“Yeah,” he said, smiling like a fool as he pocketed the paper. “You do that.”
Turn the page for a bonus scene from
Barbed Wire Bandages...
Two hours later, every Marine he'd ever befriended at the Albany base was gathered in his apartment, all for the sole purpose of helping Garrison win back Bridget. In the most humiliating way possible.
“This is a horrible idea.”
Owen waved him away. “This is the best idea I've ever had.”
“A bunch of Marines standing around taking pictures of a naked dude? That's the best idea you've ever had?” Garrison rubbed his face, wondering how in the hell Owen talked him into what was sure to be the most mortifying experience of his life. “I'd hate to see how some of your bad ideas have turned out.”
“Relax. We're all friends here.”
Peterson, a firefighter-turned-Marine, approached the two of them, waving something in his hands.
“I brought a little inspiration,” he said, swinging his hips as he snickered. It was clear the guys were having way too much fun at Garrison's expense.
“What's that?” Garrison took what turned out to be a calendar from Peterson's hands and immediately cringed. “Are you fucking kidding me with this? Really?”
“Hey, you said aim for humiliating. I figured a Marine in a pinup pose would qualify.”
Garrison tossed the calendar on his dining room table.
“Suddenly, I'm not so enthusiastic about this plan.”
“That's okay,” Owen slapped his back. “We'll bring the enthusiasm. You bring the buns.”
“Eat me.”
Gray, a man Garrison had went through basic training with, entered the room with a smile.
“Backdrop's all set, ladies. Let's do this.”
They all shoved Garrison back and forth playfully as he slapped at their hands. This was the family he'd loved for the last decade. Some had come and gone, and others he'd only known for a short time, but they were the people that had been there for him whenever he needed a rock, a shoulder to lean on, a wingman, or a spotter.
They were also the family he'd be giving up if he moved back to Till Park. But something told him, they weren't done with him. Not yet. No matter the distance, they'd always be there for him. They would always be his brothers. And Bridget... well, she was worth it.
“Okay, okay! I'm going!” He fought off their hands, smiling at the easy camaraderie that sometimes made him question if choosing not to reenlist was the right decision. “The sooner this is over, the sooner I can bludgeon all of you for talking me into this.”
Owen swiped Garrison's cell phone off the table and pointed to the bedroom with laughter in his eyes.
“Enough talk, tough guy. It's time to strip.”
Catherine Black, Barbed Wire Bandages
