Read Online I'll Be Home For Christmas (A Coming Home Novella) by Jessica Scott - Free Book Online

“Okay smart-ass, I give up. Why are you sewing?”
    “It’s for my wife.” Carponti grinned in pure innocence. He didn’t need to tell Iaconelli what he was sewing. “So she’ll send me a dirty video.”
    Iaconelli’s expression twisted into some form of modified horror. For a man who had been on the initial run to Baghdad, that was saying a lot. Carponti smiled and blinked.
    Iaconelli held up one hand when Carponti opened his mouth to speak. “Just. Stop.”
    “What?”
    “Not another word. Put the goddamned cross stitch away and get ready to go to a mission brief.”
    “Do I have time to go call my wife? It’s almost Christmas and I want to see if I can get her to talk dirty to me.” Iaconelli thought he was kidding. Carponti didn’t need to correct him. He was enjoying Iaconelli’s horrified reaction a lot. It had probably been a long time since someone didn’t cower at the big platoon sergeant’s feet.
    Iaconelli started to argue but relented. “I don’t give a shit but if I find you whacking off anywhere near my bunk, I’m cutting your dick off.”
    Carponti smiled. “I love you, too, Sarn’t Ike.”
    “Carponti, I’m not fucking kidding.” He looked ready to blow a gasket. Or maybe have a heart attack; Carponti wasn’t really sure.
    Iaconelli choked and turned a slightly different shade of purple. Which was really hard considering his skin was already darker from being in the constant sunshine. It might be almost Christmas but it was still hot as balls and sunny as hell during the day. The nights?
    The nights, he froze his ass off. He’d tried to crawl into Iaconelli’s bunk the other night—with his sleeping bag—and Iaconelli had threatened to kill him. There was nothing wrong with grown men snuggling to keep warm but apparently Iaconelli would rather freeze than partake of body heat. About five of them had piled into the middle of the bay to keep warm because they hadn’t been given enough fuel and well, when the gas ran out, so did the generators that powered the heat in their bay.
    So they’d frozen together. And Iaconelli, being the charming SOB that he was, had stayed in his own cot, missing out on a prime bonding moment with his new platoon.
    Sarn’t Iaconelli had not seen the humor in the situation.
    Carponti continued to sew. There was something about the repetition of the needle. He could see why women did this sort of thing. Not that he was going to take up fashion design or anything. He glanced up at Iaconelli. “Did the LT find you?”
    Iaconelli sighed heavily. The fact that Lieutenant Jason Randall was a raging asshat was the single point of agreement between the two of them. And neither one of them was about to admit it. “No. I’m avoiding him. That little fuckweasel can kiss my ass.” He zeroed in on Carponti’s sewing. “And you need to put that shit away.” Carponti could have sworn he heard Iaconelli mutter
It’s creeping me out
but that couldn’t be right.
    Silence hung on between them for a long moment. Carponti didn’t like Iaconelli because he wasn’t Garrison. Iaconelli didn’t like Carponti because he wasn’t properly respectful. Carponti thought it wise not to mention that he’d failed basic customs and courtesies in infantry school. Things could be worse.
    They could have Randall as the platoon leader. It was bad enough trying to ignore him as the executive officer. For the life of him, Carponti couldn’t figure out why Trent hadn’t fired Randall’s sorry ass yet but that was officer business and Carponti tried to stay far, far away from that stuff. So things weren’t as bad as they could be. It could be worse but Carponti wasn’t in the mood to test the fates.
    “Yeah, well, if you don’t go find him, then the rest of us are going to have to suffer through him coming in here and honestly? LT Randall smells funny.” He looked up at Iaconelli with his best innocent expression. “So would you please go find out what he’s complaining