LITMIR.BIZ

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but he doesn’t seem to want to do anything but eat MREs and hide under my bunk to sleep.

      I’m impressed with your knowledge of assault aircraft and vehicles. Does your mom know you research all this? Also, I doubt your friend Jake’s cousin is a real fighter pilot if he is in the Coast Guard. That branch of the military doesn’t use those kinds of jets. Plus, it takes a long time to become a pilot, and 18 seems a bit young. Sometimes, kids make things seem bigger and better so they can show off to other kids.

      Let’s see, some of the other stuff you asked about me... I’m a man, I like baseball, but I played more basketball when I was in school because I grew up in Michigan, and there were more hoops around my neighborhood. Plus, playing basketball was free. When I watch baseball, I like the Detroit Tigers best, but I don’t know much of their stats. I don’t really like the UFC. I’ve seen enough fighting in my life that I don’t want to watch it for fun.

      I guess it would be pretty cool to have a mom who makes so many cookies, but I hope you eat lots of healthy foods, too. You said your mom doesn’t let you play sports, but remember that as a growing boy, you still need to get exercise in some way. We marines are required to keep fit every day. It’s called PT—physical training.

      Take care,

      GySgt Cooper

      Maxine read that first letter, then a few of the others, before taking a break to run out to the kitchen to pour a glass of chardonnay. Together, the letters gave her a little more insight to the man who would take the time to train a stray dog and write regularly to a fatherless boy.

      She brought the wine back to Hunter’s room and set her glass next to the keyboard. Hunter had asked permission to email Cooper back in November and Maxine had given her blessing, knowing that she could monitor the emails easily with the parental control program she’d installed. Even though she felt like a voyeur spying on their relationship, she had to remind herself that Hunter would’ve been willing to show her the correspondence, had she not wanted to be alone to mull over everything.

      After minimizing the screen, she scrolled through all the prior email attachments that had pictures of Cooper. One of the photos showed him holding some type of foil-wrapped food package above his head. A dog—not Helix—was jumping vertically into the air trying to get it. He was laughing at the dog, his mouth open and head thrown back.

      From what Maxine had pieced together from the emails, the man had recently lost his dog in some type of bombing incident. Poor guy.

      She scrolled through a few more and paused at one of the shots of him not wearing his customary sunglasses. She had to admit that he was good-looking in a tough, military sort of way.

      Who was she kidding? The man was good-looking just off his long flight with beard stubble, jet lag and a bum leg. Of course he’d be even more handsome in uniform. She’d never been attracted to those types, though. They represented everything she’d tried to get away from during her childhood.

      But somehow Cooper seemed different. He didn’t really look as if he fit the military mold despite the regulation haircut. And mercy, Kylie was right—he really was hot. His running shorts showed off tan, well-muscled legs. She could see the outline of his washboard abs through his beige T-shirt.

      It could just be the wine warming her up, but something pulsed in her lower lady parts. She hadn’t experienced any pulsing down there in a long time, and she was uncomfortable with it. Maybe because it was a complete stranger who was making her feel this way. Or maybe because she was getting slightly turned on by his photos while sitting in her son’s room surrounded by Angry Birds posters and Lego sets.

      She needed to get ahold of herself. Or go out on a date once in a while.

      Just then, a text message popped up on her smartphone. Kylie was running late and Mia’s knee was too sore for yoga. Maxine took another sip of wine. She could either back out of their dinner plans now and sit in front of Hunter’s computer screen staring at Gunny Heartthrob, or she could walk down the street and meet her friends at Patrelli’s for pizza and another glass of wine.

      Her nerves won out and she grabbed her heavy jacket off the coatrack and practically ran out the door, trying to get as far away from her thoughts as she could.

      * * *

      To: [email protected]

      From: [email protected]

      Re: Star Wars

      Date: Jan 25

      Hunter,

      First of all, the femoral surgery went well. Dr. McCormick is supposed to be the top orthopedic surgeon in the Navy, and he expects me to recover quickly and undergo the knee replacement surgery just as well.

      Second of all, Han Solo is in no way “more awesomer” than Luke Skywalker. You can’t even compare the two. Han Solo is a smuggler. He isn’t even a Jedi. Also, Luke is royalty, and he went through a lot of training. Han doesn’t even have a light saber.

      Third of all, I’m still learning to use Skype and I’m not used to it yet. And you have to promise that you’ll get your mom’s permission before we start talking on the computer like that.

      Speaking of your mom, please thank her for sending that box of her cookies. When I shared them with all the guys on my floor, I was more popular than PFC Spooner, whose dad sends him magazines with— Well, I’ll tell you about those when you’re older.

      I got the list you sent me with the names of every local police department that is hiring. I’m really not sure if I’m going to try to be a civvie cop. And I’m definitely not going to love Idaho “the way a drunk loves a martini.” Does Jake Marconi even know what a martini is? Anyway, I’ll keep you posted on when I can start having visitors.

      Cooper

      Cooper hadn’t been lying to the kid. The surgery really had gone pretty well. It was too soon to tell if he’d make enough of a recovery to reenlist, but he didn’t have the heart to tell Hunter that there was no way he planned to stay in Idaho permanently.

      It was bad enough that he’d been putting off Hunter’s visit, but, honestly, he didn’t know if he could handle being around Maxine Walker again. The woman had brought out the worst in him that day at the baggage claim area, and it had been all he could take when she’d had to help lift him out of the airport-issued wheelchair and into her car.

      She’d smelled as incredible as she looked. And the drive to the hospital had been just as intense as the woman’s forced smile when Hunter had insisted on waiting for the admission paperwork to be completed and for the nurse to wheel him away to the orthopedic wing.

      He didn’t look forward to having to endure Maxine’s stiff presence, but at the same time, he couldn’t wait to see her again. To smell her again. Hell, to feel her hands on him again—even if it meant asking her to help him get out of this damn hospital bed to hit the head.

      A light blinked on the bottom of his open laptop and he pulled the wheeled tray table closer to him.

      He was receiving a Skype call from Dr. Gregson. The damn shrink was the one to blame for the whole mess. Back in September, Gregson had gone right over Cooper’s head and his objections. He’d purposely sought out Cooper’s commander to force him to participate in the pen pal program, knowing full well the honor-bound marine couldn’t refuse a direct order.

      As Cooper clicked on the mouse to connect their call, he had a lot more than some soul cleansing to discuss. There was hell to pay.

      “Gregson,” he bellowed, when the counselor’s grainy image jumped onto his screen.

      “How’d the surgery go, Gunny?”

      Cooper relayed what Dr. McCormick had told him, including the part that his leg would never be 100 percent.

      “I’m sorry to hear that. I know the Corps was your life.”

      “Yeah, well...” he cursed, though it hardly raised one of Dr. Gregson’s eyebrows.

      “Language,

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