Below the Belt(85)

“Oh,” she breathed out, her breath catching in her throat. Oh, God. There was no way she could read this one out loud. She read silently instead. It was done in Brad’s handwriting, making it that much more special. He talked about their dedication, their willingness to push past obstacles to make the boxing team better.

It was sweet, but it wasn’t a relationship-maker.

The next one made her double over in laughter. One of Higgs’ men held up a pamphlet titled, “Why Marianne Loves Brad.” That arrogant moron. She couldn’t help but smile as she read the inside in the spirit he meant it . . . humorously.

Several more pamphlets pointed out what he respected about her, what he admired about her. Why he was sorry he’d evaded the truth. They were wonderful, affirming things to hear.

But they weren’t enough.

Until she came to the last one. Higgs was holding it, and he smiled softly. “This one is the best one yet. It took me forever, so you better like it.”

“I’m sure I will,” she said, biting her lip to keep from grinning at the absolute insanity of this project. He flipped it around, and she nearly gasped. Only the reminder that there were nearly twenty Marines staring at her from behind kept her from making a sound. But she let her hand drift up to cover her trembling mouth as she read the title.

“Why Brad Costa Fell in Love with Marianne Cook.”

She stepped forward and whispered, “Where is he?” as she read through the reasons. Because she made him laugh. She made him relax. She gave him perspective, kept him from taking himself too seriously, kept him grounded. Because she was willing to make tough choices, and he loved her for caring more about his health than hurting his feelings or making him angry. Because she was it for him. Because he recognized her.

Marianne blinked rapidly to clear her eyes. A few tears escaped anyway and trickled down her cheeks. She wiped at them impatiently with the back of her hand. “Higgs. Where is he?”

“He’s over here.”

She whipped her head around to find Brad standing in the doorway of her training room. His posture said he was relaxed, with his arms crossed over his chest and one shoulder propped against the door. But she could see in his eyes the intensity and focus, and knew if she laid a palm over his heart, she would feel vibrations of energy.

She started toward him, then turned back around for a moment, cupped her hand and called, “Thank you!”

The Marines all waved and started for the hallway toward the parking lot—presumably to store the posters in their cars. But she couldn’t let them go without hitting home that she appreciated their efforts.

“Oo-rah!”

The group paused and turned to look. A few held their fists in the air and as one, let out a booming “Oo-rah!” that echoed through the rafters of the gym. Her heart swelled at that moment, loving each and every one of them.

They left in a noisy, lovable huddle, and she waited until they were gone. But she couldn’t ignore Brad forever. And when he reached for her, she didn’t hesitate to walk right into his arms and wrap hers around his waist. Burying her face against his chest, she whispered, “I missed you.”

He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, then rested his cheek there. “I missed you, too. I’m sorry.”

“Clearly,” she said, laughing. “What the hell made you think to do this?”

“My lady likes her pamphlets.”

She laughed. And then kept laughing, despite the fact that it wasn’t funny so much as true. But her nerves were running a mile a minute and she couldn’t catch up, and if she didn’t laugh, she was afraid she’d cry. Laughing was safer, overall.

“I love you,” he murmured when she finally took a breath.

Pressing her tear-streaked face into his shoulder—tears from laughing, she swore to herself—she nodded.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

She bit him.

“Ouch! Vicious. Now I’m gonna have to have the trainer fix me up.”

“She’s currently unavailable. I heard she was making out with her boyfriend.” Marianne tilted her head back enough to smile at Brad’s amused face. “Don’t make a liar out of me.”

He kissed her lightly, just a teasing brush of lips. She wanted more. So, so much more.

“I didn’t hear you say anything back.” He pulled away, and though his tone was light, she could see lingering worry heavy in his eyes.

“Maybe I should string you along.”

“Maybe you should—”

“Children.”

They jumped apart as if they’d been tossed by a catapult. Marianne’s face heated, and she watched the flush creep up the back of Brad’s neck as they both turned to see Coach Ace standing in the doorway, thick arms crossed over his chest.

His tone was serious, but his eyes hinted at humor . . . she hoped.

“Cook? You’re not going to make the same mistake, am I right?”

“No, Coach.”

“And Costa, well, we’ve already spoken, haven’t we?”

He nodded. “Yes, sir.”

With a sigh, he shook his head, chuckling a little. At least, she was pretty sure that’s what that chest rumble was. “Don’t screw it up this time, the both of you. I can’t have my athletes running out to the craft store every time you two have a fight.” He started to walk away, then turned back to add, “Warm-ups in twenty-five, Costa. Don’t make me come back here and drag you out.”