Specialist Marcus Webb had planned this for six months.
Every detail. Every moment. Every possible thing that could go wrong.
He'd coordinated with her mother, her best friend, her commanding officer. He'd bribed a chaplain. He'd even managed to get a forty-eight-hour pass, which required signatures from three different lieutenants and what felt like a blood oath.
Now he stood in the parking lot of Fort Bragg's PX, wearing civilian clothes, holding a ring box in his sweaty palm.
Serena thought she was meeting her mom for lunch.
Instead, she walked out of the PX with a soda in o