Paul's Goblins

There couldn't be two Sergeant Pete Stansberrys shipping out from here in this time frame, Laurie thought. Her snort caught Paul's attention.

"What? You don't want to have children? I sort of thought . . . I certainly schemed enough to get into your bed. Knew the first time I saw you—hefting that melon in the grocery store like you were going to heave it at something—that you were the one for me."

"Shush, no talking," Laurie whispered. "I think we are moving into round three."

Pete Stansberry, she thought. All this time she was stewing about getting involved with a married man—one that she wanted so badly—Paul. And she'd already been sleeping with a married man and just hadn't known it. Just try to get rid of me, Paul Wilson, she thought. Damn right I want to be here and pregnant with your child when Pete Stansberry next comes marching home from war.

But then she lost all thoughts of vengeance, as it was quite obviously that round three had already started.

"One last confession?" Paul whispered before all was lost in love.

"You're shipping out for Afghanistan?"

"No," he answered, with a laugh. "I think it must be said that Susan deserves a lot of credit for getting us together. She even told me where you lived."

Knewitknewitknewit, was screaming inside Laurie's head. But just at this minute, she didn't give a shit. Susan was, and probably always would be, her best friend. Well, after Paul, of course . . . and each of their passel of kids.