unfastened her seat belt and climbed out of the car. She had to have air. An unaccustomed heat flooded her. Hormones. Had to be. Did having a baby at fifteen precipitate early menopause? What else would throw her body into hot flashes?
Brittany left the car and joined her as Jeff reached them.
“You’re right on time.” His gaze, deep-gray eyes that seemed almost black, locked with hers.
For an instant time stood still and she forgot to breathe.
He turned to her daughter and broke the spell. “You must be Brittany. I’m Jeff.”
“Mr. Davidson, Brittany.” Jodie reminded her daughter. She’d raised her to treat grown-ups with respect. She wouldn’t let anyone undermine her efforts. Not even the world’s most attractive former Marine.
“Hi...sir.” Brittany looked ready to dig a hole and climb in.
Jodie groaned inwardly. Everything she did further alienated the girl.
“Your mom would make a good Marine.” Jeff turned his charm on Brittany, and she actually smiled.
“Only if she’s an officer,” Brittany said with the air of a conspirator. “She’s good at giving orders.”
“That means she loves you,” Jeff said. “Take it from someone who knows. My old man never gave a...hoot what I did.”
Jodie blinked in surprise. Jeff had taken her side, and not only hadn’t Brittany bristled, she was still smiling.
Jeff’s friends joined them, and he offered introductions. “Jodie and Brittany Nathan, meet my team.”
A tall and solidly built man with pale-blue eyes, ruddy cheeks and hair like corn silk offered Jodie his hand. “I’m Gofer, ma’am.”
After squeezing Jodie’s fingers in a crushing grip, he took Brittany’s hand.
“Hi, Mr. Gofer,” Brittany said. Jodie’s lesson on manners had apparently taken hold.
Gofer laughed. “My real name’s Jack Hager. My team calls me Gofer.”
Brittany cast Jodie a what-do-I-do-now look.
Before Jodie could respond, Jeff said, “We call him Gofer because ‘go-fer-broke’ is his favorite expression.”
A rugged man with deep black skin, broad shoulders, and a close-shaved head shook Jodie’s hand next. “Kermit. Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
“That’s your real name?” Jodie asked.
Kermit laughed with a rumbling sound deep in his broad chest and showed fine white teeth. “No, ma’am. It’s a nickname, too.”
Brittany, who’d been a huge Sesame Street fan as a toddler, asked, “Like Kermit the Frog?”
Kermit’s smile widened. “That’s the one.”
“Every time we pulled on our BDUs—” Gofer began.
“Battle dress uniforms,” Jeff explained.
“And smeared on camou-paint,” Gofer continued, “he sang, ‘It Isn’t Easy Being Green.’ So we call him Kermit.”
“And this is Ricochet.” Jeff pointed to a lanky fellow with soft brown eyes and curly brown hair who was nearly as tall as Jeff himself.
“Ma’am,” he responded with a respectful nod. “Brittany.”
“We call him Ricochet,” Gofer, apparently the most talkative of the group, explained, “because he can’t keep still.”
Had Ricochet actually blushed, Jodie wondered, or was his color a trick of the rising sun?
“Unless we’re on a mission,” Jeff added. “Then he’s as focused as a hound on a ham bone.”
“And I’m Trace, Ms. Nathan.” The fourth member of the team was tall and muscular with long, slender hands and the face of a poet. “Short for Tracey, my last name.”
“What do they call you, Mr. Davidson?” Brittany asked.
As one body, the four men snapped to attention and shouted in one voice, “Lieutenant Davidson, sir!”
“At ease,” Jeff ordered with a laugh. “And help these ladies unload their car.”
Jodie swallowed her astonishment. Outcast Jeff Davidson, whom everyone had believed would join Hell’s Angels and die in a bar fight, was an officer and a gentleman? Who would have thought?
Jeff motioned toward the building site. “We set up tables under a canopy and ran a power source. Having the food nearby will speed up our work.”
Jodie opened the van’s hatch. Kermit and Gofer each grabbed a Crock-Pot, Trace manhandled the massive coffeemaker she’d borrowed from the church, and Ricochet tucked a huge cooler under each arm and headed for the tables. Jeff began stacking boxes of baked goods.
“Where’s Brynn?” Jodie asked. “I see her car.”
“Inside.” Jeff used his chin to steady the pile of boxes in his arms. “With Daniel.”
“Another member of your team?”
“Nope,” Jeff called over his shoulder as he followed the other men. “My first client. He’s living with me until the dorm’s finished.”
“Cool,” Brittany said. “Can I meet him?”
“Not now. I need your help.” Jodie winced at the edge to her voice.
She definitely had her work cut out for her. Between feeding ravenous Marines and keeping her daughter away from Jeff’s first resident delinquent, it was going to be a long day.
* * *
FIVE HOURS LATER Jeff sat beneath a sugar maple and devoured a bowl of chili and an Italian sub. The morning had gone well. The timber framing crew from Asheville had arrived immediately after Jodie. Grant and Merrilee had made a brief appearance but had to leave when the vet received an emergency call.
With Jeff and his buddies, assisted by Brynn and Daniel providing additional grunt work, the massive dormitory with kitchen/dining/living room was taking shape. By dark, the framing would be complete, and Jeff and his Marines could add the roof, walls and finishing work over the next few weeks.
An unaccustomed lump blocked his throat. He’d never had friends while growing up in Pleasant Valley, mostly due to his father’s infamous reputation. Jeff hadn’t been like the other kids with their extended families, tidy homes with white picket fences and fathers who didn’t stay raging drunk and beat the crap out of them. And no one had understood better than Jeff that he didn’t belong. He’d built a wall around himself merely to survive.
But the corps had been different. Backgrounds and social status were irrelevant. All that mattered was that a man carried his load, became part of the team and
