Chapter Two
Chapter One
Steve Kozlowski had been in the Marine Corps for over a decade. He’d survived the most rigorous training in the world. He’d faced hostile forces in Afghanistan, survived temperatures of over one hundred and thirty degrees Fahrenheit wearing full-battle gear, seen the worst of conditions on half the continents on the planet.
He was one of the few, the proud, the tough.
Which meant he could handle his matchmaking Polish grandmother, no problem.
Even if his Busha was after him to meet the bookworm librarian next door, Steve could handle it. Or so he told himself. If necessary, he’d use evasive maneuvers to sidestep any matrimonial-minded booby traps that may have been laid down for his benefit.
That was the plan.
The reality was that he’d waited a minute too long.
The knock on the back door told him that much.
Steve could ignore it. He could sneak out the front door while his grandmother was in the bathroom.
But that smacked of cowardice, and Marines were not cowards.
“Aren’t you going to open the door?” Wanda called out from down the hall, obviously hearing the continued knocking.
“Affirmative.” Steve briskly yanked the kitchen door wide open.
A female stood there, frowning at him. “Uh, um, I’m looking for Wanda?”
“And you are?” As if he didn’t know.
“I’m Chloe Johnson from next door.”
“Right. Chloe the librarian. I should have guessed.” He nodded at her dumpy clothes—the charcoal-gray sweater that looked two sizes too big, the white parochial-school shirt and black skirt that sagged around her ankles. The combat-style boots were a bit of a surprise, however.
Her dark hair was in a tight bun on top of her head. She wore black-rimmed glasses that stood out against her pale skin like ink on a newspaper. She had to be the mousiest woman he’d ever seen.
“My grandmother is unavailable at the moment.” Steve deliberately kept his voice low, so as not to scare the poor female.
“Oh, uh…” She glanced around the room as if searching for something. “She told me to stop by and pick up some kolachkis for the library event tonight.”
“Right.” He’d already stolen three from the plate. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m Wanda’s grandson, Steve, by the way.”
She nodded. “Nice to meet you. Bye.”
An instant later she was gone.
A minute after that, his grandmother reappeared in the kitchen and beamed at him. “So what did you think of Chloe? Isn’t she a sweet girl? Better than those wild women you seem to favor.”
Steve had to admit that in the past his taste in women had tended to lean toward good-time girls.
Then he’d met Gina. She’d been classy and smart.
He’d thought Gina was different. He’d been wrong. Thanks to an unexpected inheritance from his deceased Texas-oil-baron grandfather, Steve was a Marine with money. Lots of it.
That’s what had interested Gina. The money. Not him.
The recent betrayal still cut deep.
Gina had conned him, saying she loved him when she really loved his bank account.
Humiliated by his own gullibility, Steve had come home on leave to the people he could trust—his family. He definitely wasn’t looking to get into another romantic relationship. No way, no how. He’d visit his family for a while, then he planned on hitting the open road on his Harley, enjoying his freedom before returning to Camp Pendleton in California where he was stationed.
“Steve?” Wanda tugged on his arm to get his attention. “You haven’t said, what did you think of Chloe?”
“She looked like a librarian.”
Wanda frowned.
“She’s not really my type,” Steve added.
Wanda wagged her index finger at him. “You can’t know that from one brief meeting.”
Sure he could.
But he could tell by the stubborn tilt of her head that there was no convincing his Busha of that.
Wanda peered out through two of the aluminum blinds covering her kitchen window. “Oh, my. It looks like Chloe is having some kind of car trouble. You should go help her.”
Sighing, Steve went outside to find Chloe leaning over the side of a compact car. The pose drew his attention to her bottom. Considering the fact that she was dressed like a nun, he felt guilty for even observing the fact that she had curves beneath those ugly clothes.
“What’s the problem?” he gruffly asked.
“I don’t know.” Chloe straightened. “It won’t start. And I’ve got to be at the library in fifteen minutes.”
“Give her a lift,” Wanda called out through the now-open back door.
Looking at Chloe’s flushed face, Steve felt sorry for her.
“Take my car,” Wanda added. “Not that motorbike of yours.”
His
