A Soldier's Devotion. Cheryl Wyatt

laughed. “Once.”

      “When?”

      When was the last time he’d been embarrassed? “Eighth grade when snooty girls in class teased me for wearing the same sets of outdated clothes every week, that’s when.”

      “Ah, dude. Kids can be so mean.”

      “Yeah, well, when there was not enough money for food, new clothes weren’t even on the radar.” Not on Vince’s lawn-mowing and paper-route salaries.

      One of the snooty schoolgirls’ dads owned a law firm in town, too. Figured.

      Sympathy showed in Chance’s normally serene eyes. “Sorry, man. I had a good upbringing and loving parents. I can’t imagine how hard your childhood was.”

      The pity in his friend and fellow teammate’s voice caused Vince’s stomach to ball up into a cringe. “Look, whatever. I’m just…distracted these days.” Vince set his helmet on the floorboard of Chance’s red Cherokee.

      Same shade as Miss Distraction’s glimmery lipstick today.

      Not that he’d noticed.

      Chance tossed his head back and laughed. Good to hear it. Honestly, the guy was so quiet normally it took a vocal excavator to get anything out of his mouth.

      The youngest PJ on the team at twenty-five, Chance was painfully shy, but for some reason, not so much around Vince. The two of them plus Brockton, who was a year younger than Vince’s twenty-seven, were the only three remaining single guys on the team, so they tended to band together and hang out more these days.

      “You know you really shouldn’t have thrown that cute little bear.”

      “Cute?” Vince pulled a face. “You know I’m not into cutesy things.”

      “Not even the woman?” Chance navigated the Jeep from the DZ lot.

      “Not even.” Besides, not that he’d admit it to Garrison yet, but the woman was beyond the realm of cute. Make-a-man-gawk gorgeous was more like it. Intelligent eyes. Soothing voice. Authoritative demeanor.

      Transparent faith, something he secretly respected in anyone, even if he didn’t share it. Bold, heartfelt prayers. She’d talked to God like Joel and Aaron and the rest of the Christians on his team did right before missions. Like God was their friend or something.

      Yeah. Miss Distraction was all that. And probably more.

      And suddenly, Vince wanted to know the “more.”

      But, remembering the hurt and humiliation in her vulnerable eyes back at the DZ, he’d likely bombed the foundation of any amicable bridge with her.

      And if she were anything like his sister, she’d never cross it on her own. He’d have to make the first move.

      Never ever had he such a strong desire to risk those shaky first steps.

      “Never ever,” Val seethed on the way to her car. Never again would she subject herself to this. She blinked back angry tears.

      She’d only seen the man down. The lethal creature storming from the back room looked nothing like the vulnerable one on the road that day in the rain. He’d been intimidating enough that she’d taken two steps back for every step he’d taken toward her.

      The man who’d said he was Sarah’s fiancé had shaken his head at Vince. Subtle, yet Vince stopped in his tracks. But the look in his eyes said he was none too happy about her being there.

      Never would she look back.

      Trust Me.

      “How? When he can’t even stand to look at me?” She flung her rental-car door open and threw herself in the seat. Her hand twisted the key when a knock caused her heart to jump. She removed her hand from her throat and rolled down the window.

      Sarah’s husband-to-be leaned in. “Miss, I apologize on behalf of Vince.”

      “He has every right to be angry. I shouldn’t have come.”

      He knelt. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

      Why did the compassion in his voice cause hers to clog? “Give Sarah my regards. And tell her thank you.”

      Aaron eyed the DZ then Val. “You could tell her yourself.”

      Val eyed her clock. Two minutes more and she had to leave. She shut off the ignition. “What are you proposing?”

      “Sarah’s also new to town. She could use a friend.”

      “How do you know I’m new?”

      “West Coast accent for one thing. For another, your license plates are out of state. Saw your car when I took Vince to check on his bike.”

      She nodded. “How’d he swallow seeing it?”

      Aaron grinned. “How do you think?”

      “Probably like a big bowl of razor blades.”

      He laughed and handed her a business card with caricatures on it. “Give Sarah a call. And give Vince time. His bark is worse than his bite. Most days, anyway.”

      She laughed. “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

      He smiled. “There are barbecues every weekend at my place or Joel’s. Sarah’d love to bring a friend. All the other guys’ wives and girlfriends have a good friend. Though they include her, Sarah is shy and feels like a fifth wheel. That she spoke to you at all proves she felt a connection with you.”

      “Interesting. I felt that with her, too.”

      “I’ll let her know you’ll be calling.”

      She shielded her eyes from the southern Illinois sun and met his gaze. “Why do I get the feeling you want me to try to get through to Vince?”

      A confident gleam entered his eyes. “Probably for the same reason that I get the feeling you can.”

      His words paused her heart and soul.

      Get through to him she wanted to. But only God could move the mountain of this man’s anger toward her and all that she stood for. Vince’s face flashed in her mind.

      No matter how hard, she would obey.

      “I’ll give Sarah a call.”

      “And I’ll give her a heads-up that you’ll be coming to the barbecue.”

      “Hey, now. All I said was that I’d call.”

      “Prayerfully consider it. It’ll mean a lot to her to have another woman to pal around with.”

      “How do you know I pray?”

      He snorted. “Trust me, Vince let us know.”

      “Speaking of Vince, will you be warning him that I’m coming? You know, in case he wants to stay home or fling himself in front of a moving planet or otherwise orbit himself out of his misery.”

      Aaron chuckled. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” He knuckled her door frame. “Besides, he drowns his misery in Michelob.”

      “Ah. The old alcohol vice.”

      “Yeah, he pretty much never leaves home without it. He always drinks at the barbecues, which means he’s normally more subdued, which could be good for you. And as long as he doesn’t try to drive himself home, we don’t give him too much grief. We know God’ll change him when Vince finally gives himself over to Him.”

      “If I show up without warning he’ll know he’s been set up.”

      “So be it. But you have no less than seven third-degree black-belted bodyguards, guaranteed.”

      She laughed. “That should make me feel better.”

      His grin faded and his face turned serious.