Until the World Stops - L.A. Witt Page 0,6

the MAs who worked there, and he’d grumbled about how our jobs were basically identical, except he also had to play hotel receptionist for the occasional lighthouse guest, not to mention inform civilians that, yes, the lighthouse was on the national register of historic places, but no, they couldn’t get up close to it because it was on military property. He sometimes messed with people by telling them there was no lighthouse. When they pointed at it and insisted it was right there and was clearly a lighthouse, he’d just shake his head and say, “Ma’am, that’s a seagull.” I should’ve asked for orders there instead of here. I might still have a career, and I’d get to entertain myself by trolling people.

Well. Whatever. I’d taken orders to Providence Point, I’d opened my stupid mouth on social media, and now…yay.

I parked in my usual spot, then went in and changed into my uniform. I didn’t bother going to the armory since I couldn’t arm up—they’d yanked my weapons qual as soon as they’d started the inquiry into the Facebook post heard round the world. Without my gun, I couldn’t stand watch or really do much of anything except paperwork, and there wasn’t a lot of that at a base this small. The next sixty or so days would just be an exercise in how much boredom the human body could withstand while also enduring the constant humiliation of feeling like I was sitting in a corner wearing a dunce cap. Everyone knew. Some had quietly told me they thought I’d been screwed. Others had loudly announced that I’d gotten what I deserved. Nobody looked at me like they had before this shitstorm had started.

And here I’d thought being on restriction had been embarrassing.

The one and only perk was that ever since the investigation had started, I’d been on staff hours instead of in a duty section. While duty section had to muster at 0600, I didn’t have to be here until 0900. Plus I got to leave around 1500—sometimes earlier if there was nothing to do—while they didn’t turn over until 1800. Not much of a win, given yesterday’s loss, but I’d take whatever silver lining I could get.

I was just pouring myself a cup of coffee in the base kitchen (which, no joke, was bigger than my whole apartment) when MA1 Parker came down the stairs from the gym with a towel around his neck and a sweaty gray tank top plastered to his torso. Good thing I wasn’t taking a drink. Damn. As it was, I almost spilled coffee on my hand, and I had to quickly look away as he strode across the room. It wasn’t just because I didn’t know if I could make eye contact with him after last night, either.

Because here’s the thing: Parker and I had never liked each other, but that didn’t change the fact that he was smoking hot. The sandy blond high-and-tight looked good on him, and so did anything snug enough to show off his arms and shoulders. He wasn’t ripped like some of the other guys who lived on protein supplements, but he was built. He didn’t need a six-pack to make me want to lick him all over.

Too bad he was an asshole.

Except maybe he wasn’t. After all, I reminded myself as I stole a glance at that perfect ass before he disappeared into the locker room, this was the same guy who’d taken me out for beers last night, and then…

And then he’d offered to get married.

My head was definitely clearer now than when I’d woken up, but I still couldn’t quite make sense of Parker’s offer. Was he serious? Should I take him up on it? Did I have any other options besides moving home?

We needed to talk about this. Sooner than later, too, partly so I could concentrate on other things, and partly so we could get any balls rolling that needed to be so we could get married before the Navy finished cutting me loose. If we weren’t going to do this, then I needed to be able to focus on what I was going to do.

About fifteen minutes later, Parker came out of the locker room, freshly showered and changed into his green camouflage utilities and black tactical vest. Unaware of me watching him, he paused to fuss with something on his police belt, then went down the hall toward the armory. After a few minutes, he returned, his pistol tucked securely