Heart of a Marine (The Wounded Warrior Series Book 1) by Patty Campbell Page B

her cheeks. “I’m…I…wow. How long have you had…what happened?”
    “Operation Iraqi Freedom, March ’03. Nearly got my ass blown off over there.”
    Amber aimed a disapproving face at him. “You’re saying a lot of bad words today, Daddy. No ice cream for you.”
    “Yeah, sorry. I’ll clean up my act.” He tugged a lock of her hair. “You keep me in line.”
    Marla marveled at the easy interplay between father and daughter. Even though six-year-old Amber had innocently prayed for Dempsey to get her a new mom, heaven help the woman who ever tried to get between those two.
    “Does everybody know about your…your uh…foot, except me, Dempsey?”
    “I don’t advertise it. My family knows. And that includes Miss Emmaline. The men on the job know. They’re all Iraq vets.”
    Hoping she wasn’t being obnoxiously nosy, Marla asked, “Are any of the other men…wounded?”
    “Cluny got hit in the same battle.” He threw his forearm over his eyes. “But nothing you can see.”
    She twisted her hands. “Shall I get you something? Tylenol? Aspirin? I can see how uncomfortable you are.”
    Dwayne lowered his arm. “Thanks, Danaher, but no. You and your mouse have had enough excitement for one day. It’s late. Tomorrow’s Sunday. I’ve got a great nurse, and I’ll be ship-shape by Monday morning. Why don’t you take off? You have some work to do tomorrow to wrap up the sale on the house for Pete and Rosie.”
    With a sigh, Marla stood. “Are you sure? If you need me to pick up something, or do anything before I leave, tell me now.” When Dwayne rolled his head on the pillow, she lifted Skip off his chest. “I kept your dinner in the oven. It’s probably pretty dried out by now.”
    “No sweat, Danaher. It’ll be a helluva lot better than an MRE.” They glimpsed Amber’s expression when she grumbled. “Sorry, nurse, I’ll get to work cleaning up my language.”
    “You better, or you’ll never ever get to eat ice cream again, Daddy. Rilly.”
    Marla chuckled and hugged Skipper against her sweat-shirted bosom. “OK then. I’ll see you Monday. I had a good time visiting with you, Amber. So did Skip.”
    “Me too, Marla. I love him.”
    “You take good care of your daddy. I’ll find my way out.”
     
    * * *
     
     
    So now Marla knew.
    He’d have had to reveal it at some point, so tonight was as good a time as any. She was shocked, but to give Red credit, he hadn’t detected any pity in her reaction. She’d been as bossy as ever, ready to take charge. No phony blushing when he’d dropped his pants, she’d done what needed to be done.
    Dwayne couldn’t stomach pity. He was lucky to be alive and had no regrets about his tour of duty. He’d volunteered to go and would go again if they’d have him.
    One thing he did know—an Iraqi dad loved his kids just as much as Dwayne loved Amber. Nobody deserved to live under the heel of a murdering tyrant. Some of the things he’d seen over there would always haunt him. Whatever it took, he’d defend his home, his daughter, his town against any evil bastard intent on doing harm.
    Amber sat back on her heels and screwed the top on the jar of salve. “Is that better, Daddy?”
    “I’m good as new thanks to you.” He dragged his pajama bottoms from under his pillow and pulled them on. “I’m starved. What say we see what’s left of my supper?”
    “Wait, I’ll get a Band-Aid.” Amber hopped down and held his crutches in front of him. “Sit on the side of the bed.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” He pulled on a sock and waited patiently while she dabbed his cut with antibiotic ointment and stuck the bandage on his cheek.
    “Will I live?”
    “Probly.”
    “That’s a relief.” He stood and put the pads of the crutches under his arms and headed down the hall.
    Amber darted ahead of him. “I’ll get your soda. Marla put it back in ’frigerator when you left. I rilly like her. She’s not married and her boyfriend is rilly boring. She told me.