Cinderella Wore Combat Boots Read online

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement (including infringement without monetary gain) is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cinderella Wore Combat Boots

  Copyright © 2011 by D.L. Jackson

  ISBN: 978-1-61333-030-2

  Cover art by Dara England

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

  Look for us online at:

  http://www.decadentpublishing.com

  Cinderella Wore Combat Boots

  D.L. Jackson

  A 1 Night Stand Story

  ~DEDICATION~

  This one’s for the boys of the 2/8 Marine Infantry Company. God keep you safe, while you keep us safe.

  I’d also like to thank my family who’s sacrificed time so I can meet deadlines, my indispensable peers, Barbara, Arlene, and Laurie who started this writing journey with me six years ago, and my girls at Paranormal Romantics who rock the romance every week, kicking out novels faster than I can blink. You ladies amaze me. And last but not least, Kate, who can’t seem to get rid of me. It’s been nice working with you again.

  Chapter One

  “Retirement? You can’t do that. I’ve got twenty-two years of my life wrapped up in the Marine Corps.” Cori closed her eyes and fought the pain. Semper Fi—always faithful—it didn’t mean much when you were a broken down, aging non-commissioned. Shit truly rolled downhill.

  Captain Cutler leaned back on his desk and crossed his arms. “The doctors say your hip is as good as it’s going to get, Cori. You’ve got twenty-two good years in the Marine Corps. It’s either retirement or a medical discharge. Stop fighting it. There are no more options.”

  First Sergeant Cori Valentine raised her hand to her forehead and rubbed. “Please, sir….”

  “We’ve served together long enough to forgo the titles when we’re having a heart-to-heart as friends. We’re both off duty.”

  “Scott, sir.”

  Captain Cutler groaned.

  “I don’t know anything else. This is my life.”

  “And life goes on after the Marines. Your retirement ceremony is in three weeks. You’d better start getting used to the idea. I tried, God knows I tried, but they say you’re not fit for active duty anymore. You can’t deploy with the unit, and they won’t give on this. Take your retirement—live your life.”

  Cori frowned. “I don’t know how to do that, sir.”

  “Just this once, call me Scott. This isn’t any easier for me.”

  “Respectfully, sir, you can put the Marine in the girl, you just can’t take it out of her. You’re an officer, I’m a non-com. I’m not going to change, even if you’ve told me they’re kicking me out. I’ll always be a Marine, and you’ll always be a sir.”

  He shook his head and slid her discharge paperwork across the desk. “It’s all signed. There’s a schedule for your exit physical and information on clearing your quarters.” He snagged two tickets from his desk drawer. “A reception.”

  She stared at them. He had to be kidding. She didn’t dance, didn’t have a date, nor did she have a clue where to even look for one.

  “Take them. It’s for your retirement party.”

  She snatched them out of his hand and stuffed them in her pocket. She’d toss them in the trash later, when he wasn’t around.

  He nodded. “Dismissed.”

  She saluted and turned to go.

  “Cori.”

  She turned to face him again.

  “Your birthday is in three weeks?”

  “Yes, sir.” I’ll officially be an over-the-hill, jobless cripple. Another salute and she walked out, fighting the tears that threatened to pour. She was tougher than this. In the last twenty-two years she’d lived, eaten, and breathed the Marine Corps. She’d been shot at multiple times, had the unfortunate luck of catching a couple of the rounds, and had been hit with fragments from an explosion at a checkpoint. The last incident bought her a one-way ticket into the civilian world, even after she proved she would walk again. Something the doctors swore would never happen. She’d pushed hard, fought like a tiger, given two hundred percent, and still it wasn’t enough.

  And she didn’t just wear physical scars. Her husband had left her fifteen years before because he couldn’t take the constant separation her job required. Now, just as she was about to turn forty, Uncle Sam decided to put her out to pasture.

  All she wanted to do was cry. She looked up into the sky. Not a cloud in sight. There wouldn’t be any tears this afternoon. No rain to hide them.

  “Good morning, First Sergeant,” Specialist Rodriguez called out as she limped past.

  “What’s so good about it,” she snapped back. She stopped and looked around the lot. A couple beer bottles from a party the night before lay on the ground. “Pick that trash up, Specialist.” Cori glared. “This isn’t your momma’s backyard,” she snarled and hobbled up the steps to the barracks. With her mood, the trash they’d left all over the ground, and the fact she needed to get some anger out, the barracks would be empty in five point three seconds—guaranteed.

  She grabbed an empty metal trashcan as she entered the building and threw it into the hall. It hit the wall, bounced a couple of times, and crashed into the door to the fire escape. “Rise and shine!” Marines leapt out of their bunks and doors were thrown open as several pairs of eyes, still dazed from sleep, stared at her.

  “Do you know what that is?” She pointed at the end of the hall.

  “A trash can, First Sergeant!” they barked out in unison.

  “Do you know how to use it?”

  “Yes, First Sergeant.”

  “Good. Get this place policed. If I see so much as a cigarette butt lying on the ground, I’m going to stick my foot so far up your asses, your tonsils will itch.” She stormed from the barracks, furious with her Marines, furious with the captain, and angry at the world. She looked up into the sky again. Nothing had changed. Why couldn’t it rain when she wanted it to?

  She stumbled and caught the railing. Her damn hip. If not for that, she’d probably die serving. She huffed and continued down the steps, heading for her office and the comfort of her desk. Her rolling gait gave her all the grace of a drunken sailor. The pain in her hip radiated down her leg, making her cuss under her breath with each step.

  “Good morning, First Sergeant.” Gunnery Sergeant Thompson strode up alongside her. In charge of quarters, CQ duty for the weekend, he just happened to be in the right place at the wrong time, causing her to grind her molars together. A giant of a man, standing well over six foot six when he stood still, which rarely happened—his long legs ate the distance at a rate of one step to her every three gimps.

  Cori glanced sideways at him. He wore that grin that both infuriated her and made it impossible to stay mad. “Nothing good about….”

  “…it. Yeah, I heard. A little harsh, don’t you think? It’s a holiday weekend and oh-six-hundred in the morn
ing. You know they were going to pick that up.”

  “They shouldn’t have thrown it down in the first place.” She continued on, not wanting to look him in the eyes. If she did, she’d surely cry. Gunny had been her best friend for several years. His wife, Melissa, who everyone affectionately called Lissa, had her over to their home for dinner at least once a week. It had been nice, sitting with a family, soaking it all in. Without the Corps, she had no family. They were all she had. How could she leave?

  “No, but they’re celebrating—starting pre-deployment leave today. It’s the first weekend off they’ve had since they’ve gotten back from training in California. It’s the way they de-stress and you know it. You’ve been there. It was a couple of beer bottles, not a case.”

  “They were ten feet from the trash can. Discussion over.”

  “Fair enough,” he said. “I’ve heard the other news.”

  She stopped in her tracks and eyed him from her peripheral vision, not wanting to look Gunny in the eyes and lose it. His smile had disappeared and concerned etched his face. “Cori,” he lowered his voice. “I’m sorry.” The way he said it damn near brought the tears to the surface again.

  She sucked in a deep breath. Not going to cry. “Word gets around the battalion fast, doesn’t it?” Grabbing some courage, she turned toward him. Let them think it didn’t bother her—that her life hadn’t ended. “That discussion is also over.”

  “It doesn’t have to be like this. You can make it a celebration. You’ve accomplished so much. There’s no shame in retiring.”

  “Did you hear anything I just said, Gunny?”

  “Yes,” he frowned, “and as a friend, I can’t let you do this to yourself. We’ll pick you up at eighteen-hundred hours.” That grin crept back onto his face.

  She balled her fists and snorted. “What the hell are you going on about?”

  “Well, you’re not going to the ball without a gown, Cinderella. Your unit is taking you shopping.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. I don’t want to go to this stupid reception. Don’t any of you get it? I’m not thrilled about any of this. I can barely walk, what makes you think I can dance, and I don’t even have a date, let alone do I even want to try to find one—and if I did—I’d just wear my As.” The traditional Marine dress blues that every other military coveted would always be her first choice. In her opinion, they’d look better than any civilian designer attire she could put on. They were her. Why’d he think she’d want to wear anything but?

  “Nope—you’ll be a civilian—no As for you.” He quirked a up a brow and gave her a mischievous look that made her want to duck and cover. “You can dance. We’ve got it covered. Yes, you have a date, and no, I won’t let you skip out on your party.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Lissa would kick my ass if I did. So, we’ll pick you up at eighteen hundred hours.”

  “No.” She walked off without giving him a chance to spew any other crazy ideas. Screw them and the Hummer they rode in on. If she didn’t want to go to the ball, she wouldn’t go to the ball. And a date? Where the hell did they find someone who would be remotely interested in going out with her? Nobody wanted to take a gimp to the ball. The man they picked had to be a total toad or have some other major issue she didn’t have the patience to deal with.

  She slammed the office door and threw herself into her chair. “Cinderella.” She snorted and shook her head. “Right.” She pulled the tickets from her pocket, lit them on fire, and tossed them in the metal trash can. Probably not the best idea, as she could set off the smoke detectors, but the longer she held them, the more dangerous they became. For a second she’d almost given in when Gunny said Lissa would kick his ass. Probably because she would. Lissa was tough. Had to be after being a Marine’s wife for close to twenty years. Still, it was none of their business. If she didn’t want a party, they had no business telling her she had to go. “Not today—not tomorrow—not ever.”

  She glanced down at an envelope on her desk. What’s this? She tore it open and a photo dropped out, along with two more tickets. Her gaze locked onto the image and her breath caught in her throat. Okay, so not a total toad. Dark eyes stared back from the black and white image. Impossible to tell the color, but she’d bet they were close to a black version of whatever hue they held. They were the eyes of a man who commanded a crowd and could back an attacker down with a well-placed stare. Sexy and perceptive and she’d also bet her stripes he didn’t miss much. He had a square jaw that bespoke strength and dark hair he kept in a flat top—just like she loved. Broad shoulders, an easygoing smile you didn’t see often in a military man’s photo. Neat, not a slob—detailed—dangerous. And last but not least, he had a freaking dimple—so charming and bad boy, her panties got wet staring at it. In bold red ink on the front of the photo, Gunny had scrawled four words. This is your date.

  He was…she couldn’t pull her gaze off the picture, for lack of a better description, yummy. She flipped the photo over to read the back. Retired Navy SEAL. No name—no indication of where he lived or worked. Her heart thumped against her ribs and if she wasn’t mistaken, her belly did somersaults. Okay, so maybe she could do the date thing. She tapped the photo on the desk and felt eyes on her. She knew whose, had been around him too long not to know when he was there. They’d all conspired against her, but she had to admit they had good taste. If anything got her juices flowing, it was a dangerous military man. Who said she had to dance, anyway? She could sit there all night, stare at him, and die a happy woman.

  “Okay, Gunny, you win. Eighteen hundred hours.” She lifted her chin and looked him in the eyes. “I must be insane.”

  “I knew you’d see things my way, First Sergeant,” he said from the open door, before he smirked, turned, and walked away.

  ***

  Air brakes squawked as a truck came to a stop in front of her office. Cori lifted her gaze off the stack of forms the captain had left for her to complete for her impending retirement. This was supposed to be her day off, but she couldn’t leave the forms alone—nor could she complete them either. It made everything feel so final. She rubbed her eyes and glanced at the clock. “Early.”

  “In the Marines, if you’re early…” Gunny stood in the doorway.

  “…you’re on time.” She sighed and sat back in her chair, stretching her shoulders and neck. Her bones ached, and after filling out forms for the last twelve hours, she really wasn’t in the mood to do anything but sink into her tub at home with a beer. “Can we just skip this tonight? I’m tired.”

  “No. A deal is a deal. Your carriage awaits.”

  Cori rose to her feet, using her desk as a brace. She looked out the window and narrowed her gaze. A five ton sat in front of the building, running on idle. Her carriage? She turned toward Gunny and lifted a brow. “I know you’re not suggesting we use government property for personal business.”

  “I knew you’d say that.” He slapped a form down on her desk. “Captain’s signature, right there.”

  “Operation Foxtrot?” She looked up and glared. “You’ve named the shopping trip and you’re planning on taking me wherever it is we’re going, in a five ton truck?”

  Gunny grinned. “Clever, huh?”

  She snorted. “Stupid is more like it. You have a car.”

  “A good portion of the unit wanted to come along.”

  “Everyone?” She glanced out the window again. Not only did she have to suffer the humiliation of donning a dress, she had to do it front of everyone. Cori gritted her teeth and smiled. They were family and like family, you couldn’t pick ’em. She knew better than to object. They’d truss her up and haul her ass to the dress shop by force if need be, and from the looks of the equipment requisition the captain signed, he was as deep into this mission as the rest of them. She’d been through hell and back, but nothing in her past compared to this.

  “Almost everyone.” His eyes sparkled. “Come on, First Sergeant; let’s hook you up with a dress.”
/>
  She nodded numbly. Nothing to do but cooperate. She’d trained them well. They didn’t give up. Gunny walked her out to the five ton and opened the passenger door.

  Cori turned to him and poked him in the chest with her finger. “Before we do this, I’m going to let you know, I draw the line at heels. I can’t wear them and I won’t, so don’t even go there.” She pulled herself up into the rig and looked down at Gunny. A smug expression covered his face. Any other time she’d bark at him, but from the look in his eyes, she knew he meant well. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Gunny winked and shut the door.

  “God, what have I gotten myself into? She sat back, buckled her safety restraints and braced herself for the shopping trip to come. “I hate shopping.”

  Chapter Two

  The military police flagged them through the gates without batting an eye. Who else was in on this? She turned toward Gunny and opened her mouth.

  “You’ve made a lot of friends over the years. People respect you, and they want to do something special to show you that.”

  She snapped her mouth closed. The base commander? Who’d have thought he’d conspire against her? She’d been certain he didn’t even know she existed on anything but paper. So, she’d been wrong. She crossed her arms and watched the installation fade in the mirror. Yeah, she had no choice, best to suck it up.

  The trip through Jacksonville, North Carolina took a little under ten minutes and every second felt like an hour. By the time she climbed out of the truck at the fancy bridal shop, she was cranky and ready to take someone’s head off. Marines poured out the back and crowded around her, excitement in their eyes, smiles on their faces. Her anger began to fade. They were like kids. How could she stay mad at them?