Against the Ropes

“Someone who is low on his word count?” Kara suggested not so helpfully. When Reagan glared at her, she stuffed a piece of apple muffin in her mouth.

“Don’t get crumbs on my table,” Maria

Plus, bonus, Reagan didn’t have to pay restaurant prices for a calorie-laden muffin. She could get one for free. Only half the guilt. Except there was no way she could choke down anything right now. She was too upset to swallow anything.

“Calm yourself down. There are no crumbs.” Kara leaned over into a graceful stretch on the table, her nose touching the knees of her yoga pants.

“I hate that she can do that,” Reagan muttered and kept pacing. If nothing else, she was burning calories.

“You’re going to kill yourself in those shoes. Stop wearing a hole in my floor and sit.” Maria

“I needed the armor.” She pulled down on the jacket of her most professional, starchy suit. She hated the thing—made her feel forty instead of twenty-four—but it also gave her an added boost of professionalism.

Neither woman asked for clarification. They understood what she meant by “armor.”

“I have to do some serious damage control. I’ve got to call my supervisor, then probably his supervisor. I’ve got to speak to the editor of the paper—aka the moron who let this article run as-is. And then I’ve got to find some more positive PR for the men.”

“And how will you fit all that in between dates with Greg?” Kara asked with a smile. “Come on, dish. I never got to hear how di

“Or yogurt last night.” When Reagan glanced at Maria

“Those gossips.” She blew out a breath, and realized a few stray hairs had escaped the tight, schoolmarm bun she’d pulled it into. Digging through her bag, she found her travel-sized hairspray and gave it a little spritz. “Greg is not my main concern right now. Avoiding getting fired is. Doing my job. Not failing at this career before I even get started.”

“I hardly think going out to di

“Why are you stretching now if you’re just going to stretch again in an hour?”

“Muscle memory. Don’t change the subject.”

“What’s the point? He’s just going to leave after this is all over. He isn’t stationed here.” As soon as she said it, she winced and looked toward Maria

“No, it wasn’t. It’s a reasonable logistical consideration. However, I’m only here temporarily, too. Once the team is done, my job is done. I can look for a job out there in California just as well as I could here.”

Reagan thought about that for a moment. “You’d move around with him?”

“His job isn’t flexible on travel. Mine is, at least for now.” She shrugged, as if it didn’t bother her one bit. “I don’t look at it as following him . . . too passive for my taste. I look at it more as choosing my relocation based on the needs of my heart.”

“That was really lovely, Maria

It was nice, Reagan admitted to herself. Maria

“Well, it’s not like it matters anyway.” Reagan tugged at the hem of her pant leg, folding it around once, then letting it fall again to drape over her shoe. “I don’t think he’s interested, anyway. He hasn’t even kissed me. He keeps putting it off, even when I’ve given him every signal that I’m good with it.”

She glanced up in time to catch Maria

“Well . . .” Maria

“Several,” Kara confirmed. “He would have pushed, prodded, and forced the issue. If he didn’t care about you in a more serious way, then he wouldn’t care about making a better impression.”

“But he didn’t do that, which tells me he’s fine taking his time, because he wants more than just a quick”—Maria

“Heard that.” Brad walked in from around the corner, gri

“Good riddance,” Maria

“Back to boys,” Kara said, then snickered. “We’re seriously in high school. I just said ‘boys.’”

“Sounds about right to me.” Reagan paced another minute, then stopped and sat down. She had to force her legs to not jiggle. “I’ve got calls to make. I have damage control to get started on. I’ve got to triple-check that the gym is good to use before the guys start practicing—”

Their conversation was once again interrupted, this time by Maria

As the girl—Nikki, Reagan was nearly positive her name was—turned to toss her bag in a locker in the corner of the training room, Reagan saw the cause for the tight fit. She’d knotted it in the back and secured it with a rubber band. When she caught Maria

Maria

Nikki turned, hands on her hips. “I don’t work in a nu

The male intern—a ski

“The point of you being here is to learn, for college credit. Or am I filling out those weekly reports for your advisor just for my own personal enjoyment?” Looking a

Apparently willing to die on that particular hill, Nikki dug in her heels. “Baggy clothes make for an unsafe work environment. I could get caught on something, or—”

“Or distract a Marine from what he’s doing and watch him get hurt,” Maria

“This isn’t distracting.” Eyes wide with practiced i

“I . . . uh . . .” He looked anywhere but at her, letting his shaggy hair drape over his eyes as some sort of modesty curtain. Oh, Reagan thought, you poor, lovesick boy. “I don’t . . . I mean, it’s not . . . I can’t . . .”