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  Delivered with a Kiss

  Veteran Movers 4

  Marie Harte

  DELIVERED WITH A KISS

  Veteran Movers, Book 4

  Smith Ramsey knows all about hard knocks. So, when his newest client gets dumped by her boyfriend, he gets her an apartment in his complex.

  Erin thought she’d been in love, but now she realizes what she felt for her ex in no way compares to what she’s feeling for the tough ex-Marine who picked her up when she was down.

  Actions speak louder than words. Smith’s kindness and gentle core lay buried under old hurts. But can he forgive and forget the past to make a future with Erin? And is she making a mistake by trusting in love for the wrong man all over again?

  VETERAN MOVERS SERIES

  * * *

  THE WHOLE PACKAGE

  SMOOTH MOVES

  HANDLE WITH CARE

  DELIVERED WITH A KISS

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and plot points stem from the writer’s imagination. They are fictitious and not to be interpreted as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locations or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Delivered with a Kiss

  978164292-0390

  Copyright © November 2019

  No Box Books

  Cover by Angela Waters Art, LLC

  All Rights Are Reserved. None of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for reviews or promotion.

  * * *

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  The Kissing Game Excerpt

  Also by Marie

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  “We’re having a dinner thing and you said you’d come. Don’t be late.” The snarled order came loud and clear through Smith Ramsey’s cell phone.

  Sitting in a moving van parked in front of the client’s home, Smith pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it for a moment, wondering if he’d heard right, before responding. “First of all, I said maybe I’d come.” If he didn’t have anything better to do. Like stare at the walls until his eyes bled.

  “We have shit to talk about. You know it, we know it. Don’t be a pussy.” Cash Griffith was Smith’s older, meaner look-alike. They’d learned they shared the same DNA recently.

  And a bigger asshole Smith had yet to meet.

  “Seriously? That’s your invitation?”

  Cash swore again, creatively, before adding, “Look, just get your sorry ass to dinner so we can try to get along.” He gave a long, drawn-out sigh. “I’ll do my best not to bash your brains in when you piss me off.”

  “Do you even hear yourself talking? I know I’m not the smoothest when it comes to dealing with people—”

  “You got that right.”

  “But even I know the difference between asking and telling, dickwad.” Smith could all too easily envision steam coming from Cash’s ears and smiled, feeling better about life.

  “You have to come because I’m apparently annoying when I’m upset. Or so everyone keeps telling me,” Cash muttered.

  “You’re always annoying.”

  To his surprise, Cash chuckled. “That’s what Reid said.”

  Reid, their other brother. The one Cash had grown up with, the one who’d hired Smith in the first place.

  “Oh, and Evan might be there with his girlfriend. Like I said. It’s a family thing.”

  Smith suddenly found himself hip deep in relatives who wanted to get to know him. After a lifetime of not mattering to a mother who hated him and a tough time making friends, he didn’t know how to handle this new togetherness. The Marine Corps had been his attempt at forging connections. But now, living in the civilian world, he had to deal with all the extraneous emotional crap that came from having a “family.”

  Frankly, it gave him a massive headache.

  “Look, Smith.” Cash sighed. “If you don’t come, everyone will blame me. And I don’t want to hear it. Seven tomorrow night. Don’t be late.” Cash disconnected before Smith could answer.

  Huh. Now Smith apparently had dinner plans. If he didn’t go, he’d end up getting badgered about it; he just knew it.

  Smith liked being alone. He was good at it, and he enjoyed the fact that his stupid bosses—his brothers—hadn’t assigned him a partner for the day’s job. With any luck he’d lose himself in work and forget worrying over a dinner that didn’t mean anything anyway.

  Focus on the now, moron. This you can handle.

  Today he’d used one of Vets on the Go!’s shorter moving vans to pick up the client’s possessions from a storage facility. Mostly boxes with a few pieces of medium-sized furniture, enough to not quite fill a small apartment. Nothing he couldn’t handle by himself. He had just arrived at the assigned address when Cash had called.

  Smith sat in front of an older home in Capitol Hill, a decent enough area in Seattle, and waited for the client to meet him. He checked his paperwork and in Finley’s barely legible handwriting managed to read Aaron Briggs, 12:00.

  He tapped the steering wheel to the beat of heavy drums, content to let Fleetwood Mac’s “Tusk” fill the confines of the moving van, the windows up to keep out the chilly, early October temperature. A study of the single-level home presented him with two small, wide steps leading up onto the porch to hurdle. Not bad. A glance at his dash showed the time had nearly reached noon, so he figured to head to the door and get this move on.

  Before he could reach for the handle, the rumble of a car signaled its approach, and an ancient Jeep rolled to a stop in the home’s miniscule driveway. A woman exited the car. On the small side, with long, dark hair that blew in the wind, she looked girl-next-door cute. She glanced his way, smiled, and waved. He automatically waved back, entranced by her happiness he could almost feel.

  Those eyes packed a punch, noticeably gold in contrast to her brown-black hair. Hmm. His estimation went from cute to pretty, though he could only speculate on her figure under that long red coat. And totally not his business anyway, he told himself, though he gave the client props for having a hot friend.

  Smith left the truck with his clipboard, and the brunette darted over to him.

  “Hi. I’m so glad you’re here.” She took his hand in hers and pumped it like drawing water from a well.

  “Ah, o-kay.” He cleared his throat when she refused to let go of his hand.

  She laughed. “Sorry. I’m just so excited to—oh wait.” She hurried back to her car and let herself in to get something.

  The front door to the house opened, and a blond guy who looked to be in his early thirties walked toward Smith wearing a frown. “Can I help you?” The guy had his jacket on and a carryall slung over one shoulder, as if he planned to go out. “I’m kind of in a rush.” The frown darkened.

  This was going to be one of those moves—the pain-in-the-ass kind. Smith could feel it. He bit back a sigh. “Aaron Briggs? I’m Smith Ramsey with Vets on the Go! I have your stuff.”
>
  The guy blinked. “What?”

  The woman returned with a large duffel over her shoulder. “I’m Erin. You have my stuff,” she told Smith.

  He mentally berated Finley for writing down wrong information. Smith hated to be ill-informed. “Oh, right. So E-R-I-N Briggs?” At her nod, he struck the wrong name from the invoice and corrected it.

  “Erin?” The man asked in a reedy voice. “What are you doing here?”

  She dropped the duffel, squealed, and threw herself in his arms. “Cody, I’m finally here!”

  Over her shoulder, the stupefied expression on Cody’s face turned to one of horror.

  Smith took a step back, anticipating the hot mess to come.

  Cody pushed Erin away. “But…why?”

  The joy on her face faded, and Smith felt a pang to see such pleasure snuffed. Not my problem… He glanced back at the moving van then at her and the immovable Cody. Not my problem yet.

  Hell.

  Erin frowned. “When we talked Friday night, you told me either I committed to you or we were done. I told you that I’d pack up right away and be here this week before I hung up. So, I’m here.”

  “Seriously?” Cody gaped. “I thought you were being sarcastic. That it was a joke.”

  “A joke? Cody, I packed up everything and had it shipped here over the weekend. I told you I was coming.” She studied him. “You changed your hair since the last time I saw you. I like it.” She looked so earnest as she leaned forward and took the guy’s limp hand in hers. “I chose you, Cody. I left Kansas for good. I’m here now. Ready to move in.” She glanced uncertainly at Smith and the moving van, then back at Cody. “Like you said. We either move in together and live happily ever after, or we need to go our separate ways, because being apart is too hard.”

  Cody pulled his hand from hers and ran it through his hair. The stylish cut looked as if it had been done at an expensive salon. And the nice khaki’s and pricey sweater he wore said he had an upscale kind of taste. Smith could see him and the woman together. Apparently, Cody couldn’t.

  “Well, yes, I did say you’d need to move out here. But I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

  A dark blue SUV pulled up behind the moving van, and a pretty blond woman stepped out, leaving the vehicle running. “Cody?” She took a good look at Erin, narrowed her eyes, then smiled back at Cody. “Honey, if you don’t hurry, we’ll be late for the meeting. And make sure you have your things for our dinner date this evening.”

  Erin’s face lost all color. “Cody, who is she?” Erin faced the woman. “Who are you?”

  “I’m his girlfriend. You must be the Kansas mouse.”

  Erin gaped, her eyes huge as she turned back to Cody.

  Smith had to hand it to the guy. A smart man would have cut and run, but Cody stood there, looking like a dumbass, caught between his girlfriend and a woman who’d uprooted her entire life to be with him.

  “Erin, I don’t have time to go into this right now. I—”

  “A girlfriend?” Erin’s eyes welled. “You told me just five days ago that we could make our relationship work if I moved out here. But how can that happen if you already have a g-girlfriend?”

  The woman sighed. “Cody, we don’t have time for you and this…person.” She sniffed and said in a loud voice. “Talk about trading up when you found me.” She cleared her throat. “We have to go. Now.”

  Cody reached out to caress Erin’s face. “Damn. Bad timing. We’ll talk about this when I get back, okay? I’m sorry, Erin. You should have said you were serious about coming.” He walked around her, ignored Smith as if he wasn’t standing there, got in the SUV, and left.

  Erin stared in shock, tears spilling down her cheeks.

  Smith stood rooted in place, not sure what to do. He had a job to finish, but asking the woman what she wanted him to do with her things after she’d been shot in the heart didn’t seem right. Fuck, but he hated emotional drama. A bunch of the guys at work—including Cash—were into reality TV where this stuff happened all the time. Not him, though. He’d rather have a root canal.

  Just looking at Erin’s misery twisted his stomach in knots.

  She cried harder, her silent sobbing cascading into a waterfall of denial, confusion, and (deservedly) loud-ass grief. She seemed so small to be so loud. But he understood pain, knew all too well how it felt when life kicked you in the teeth.

  “Ah, Erin? I, um—”

  She crumpled to the ground before he could catch her, but to his relief, she remained conscious, seated on her knees on the lawn, a weeping mess.

  He had no idea what to do. His inclination was to pick her up and carry her someplace warm and settle her down. But being so much larger than the woman, and a stranger at that, he didn’t want to intimidate her in any way.

  He crouched by her and set the clipboard down, then gently tapped her shoulder. “Erin? Are you okay?” Clearly, she wasn’t, but damned if he knew what to say at a time like this.

  She sniffed and stared up at him. Her eyes shimmered like gold, her expression painful to see. “Why? Why would he tell me we could make things work? Why say that if he didn’t want me to come out here?” She blinked, and fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “I gave up everything for him.”

  Smith couldn’t take it any longer. She looked so pathetic and uncomfortable on the ground.

  He sighed, drew her close, and stood with her in his arms, her light weight negligible. Erin clutched his neck and sobbed into his chest. Smith wanted to find Cody and pound him into human hamburger.

  He held Erin close and lied that everything would be okay as he took her to the truck and placed her in the passenger seat. Then he took a step back, not wanting to crowd her.

  After a few shuddering breaths, Erin took a packet of tissues from her jacket pocket and blew. She sounded like a foghorn.

  Smith looked away. Her sadness wasn’t funny, but damn, for someone so tiny, she could make some noise.

  He cleared his throat and glanced back at her, watching her try to compose herself. “You okay?”

  “I-I don’t kn-know.” She clutched the tissue in her hand and, between the hitches in her breathing, asked, “Did I r-really give up my apartment and friends and m-move all the way out here for my boyfriend, who already has a girlfriend?”

  “Seems so.”

  She looked down, her misery tangible. “I mean, w-we just talked about our relationship this past Friday. He…” She paused and seemed to catch her breath, because her next words were more even. “He told me we needed to commit or break it off. He’s been upset that I refused to move out here. So, he gave me an ultimatum. And I took it.” She blew her nose again. “I don’t know how he can possibly be confused. I told him I loved him enough to move out here. And I wasn’t being nasty or anything. I don’t think I sounded sarcastic. I’m not a sarcastic person, honestly.”

  “He sounds like a dick.”

  She blinked up at him.

  “I mean, he didn’t once apologize at all for your trouble. Just left for some stupid meeting while you’re standing there, all the way from freakin’ Kansas.” Yeah, total dick move any way Smith looked at it. “And he sure as hell didn’t try to explain away his girlfriend. Look, I just met the guy. But it’s obvious he and that blond are tight. How come he never mentioned her when he was begging you to move out here?” And none of this is even remotely your business. Shut up, Smith!

  “Yeah, that’s right.” To his relief, she started to look angry instead of sad. Maybe he’d been right to chime in. “He didn’t think I’d come out here. So probably that ultimatum about rooming together was a lie. He wanted to blame me for us breaking up so he could cover the fact he had a girlfriend.”

  “Seems so.” Pleased she seemed to be done with the crying jag, Smith took another step back. “So where do you want me to take your stuff? You’re not staying here, are you?”

  “No way.” She glared at Cody’s house, and he wondered what she envisioned. Her ex’s hea
d mounted to a wall? Maybe her foot up his ass? She didn’t speak, and he figured she probably needed a moment to herself.

  Considering he was never this friendly with customers, he blamed his chattiness on the sight of a woman in need. Though Smith thought of himself as enlightened, old habits were hard to shake. The one good thing his so-called mother had taught him was to always respect women. But maybe he should respect the fact that Erin could take care of her own mess, and he should finally shut his fat mouth about her business.

  Deciding to do that very thing, he was about to ask for new directions when she started talking. And talking. And crying again.

  “I broke my lease. I left Kansas behind. I ignored my parents, my sister, my friends. They all told me I was foolish to come here. That he’d break my heart.” She wiped fresh tears away and met his gaze. “That I’d never make it on my own.”

  Wow. Hadn’t he heard that his whole life. “So, prove them wrong.”

  “How?” She sniffled. “I spent nearly everything I had to get that express moving service. Everything I own is here. I can’t afford to move it back, let alone find a place to live. You know they all demand security deposits up front. And it’s expensive here. I googled the cost of living in Seattle.”

  “There are cheaper apartments outside the city. And some even in the city if you know where to look.” He paid dirt cheap for his place. But then, he also served as the building handyman for his crotchety landlady.

  “That I can find today?” She blinked rapidly and wiped her cheeks. “I have a truckload of things I need to put somewhere. And storage takes money. Hotels take money. New apartments take money.” She stared crying again. “Food takes money.”