by Kirsten Lynn
“Not Dad, and just a little to Brian. I just thought, he really loves you. The only time I’ve ever seen any true emotion is when your name is mentioned.”
I give her a quick kiss and stand. Not having a real clue, I take a shot in the dark. “I heard you tell him you’d play chess; I’ll take that game instead. Not that he’ll crack in one night, but I’d like to hang out with him and maybe eventually he’ll feel like talking.”
She wraps her arms around my neck. “Thank you. He’ll love it.” When she tips her head back, I capture her mouth and instantly the kiss turns white hot and mimics what I want from her body. I grip her hips and tug her close so she can feel my body’s response, and she moans and wraps her arms tighter around me, pressing herself closer. I reach under her sweater and unbutton her jeans, feeling the heat from her sex.
“We’re back!”
We snap apart like teenagers when her parents caught us making out. Brynn smiles and buttons up her jeans. “We’ll be right down, Brian.”
I inhale deep breaths and think of my drill instructor from Boot to bring my body down. “At least he gave us fair warning.”
She smooths back her hair. “True. I wish he’d given us fifteen more minutes, though.”
“Wouldn’t have been enough.” I caress her cheek with the back of my fingers. “Fifty years won’t be enough.”
Stepping from my touch, she shakes her head and tugs the plaid quilt over the bed as if hiding evidence. “Don’t start again.”
She pivots and starts walking down the stairs and I fall into step behind her. Once we step into the living room, I have a munchkin attached to my leg.
“Uncle Caleb!” The tone of her voice would lead people to believe we hadn’t seen each other in years, not hours. She tips her head back and wins me over for the hundredth time with a big smile.
“Hey, Ella, what have you been up to?”
“Uncle Brian took us for cake and then to Nana’s. She’s making pies.”
I narrow my gaze at Brian. “Cake, man? Thanks a lot.”
He shrugs. “I’m the fun uncle.”
Brynn’s gaze is frightening. “You’re the uncle who’s pushing his luck. I suppose Mom gave them a treat, too?”
“We didn’t get a treat at Nana’s, Aunt Brynn.”
Her face instantly softens as she tips her chin to meet Michael’s gaze. “Good, it’s almost time for lunch.” She turns back to Brian. “Sorry, thanks for taking them.”
I let the twins continue their conversation and help Michael hang his coat and scarf in the closet just inside the door. “I know you and your aunt were going to play some chess after lunch, but would you mind beating me instead?”
His eyes widen like I just pinned on a medal. “Really?”
“Absolutely.”
“Definitely.” His cuts a glance to Brynn, “Unless you’d be upset?”
She scrubs his hair. “Not at all. Now you and your sister go wash up.”
When the kids are in the head, I turn back to Brian. “Seriously, thanks, man.”
He nods and shifts his gaze between us. “I told Mom you were back and with Brynn. She wanted to know if your folks know.”
“Mom knows I’m in Maine. She doesn’t know I’m engaged to Brynn.”
“Brian, you want to stay for lunch?”
He lifts an eyebrow at the change in subject. “Can’t. Gotta be on shift soon. You two announcing tomorrow?”
I leave it for her to answer. She steps closer to me. “Yes.”
“I’ll back it up.”
“Thank you.” Her voice isn’t much louder than a whisper.
“Doubt anyone will be surprised. We were all more surprised when it was Liz and Mark marrying and not you guys.”
Hooking her waist, I pull her close to my side. “Well, it’s happening now.”
“So it seems. All right, I’m heading back to work. If you need me, use the radio.”
Brynn steps toward Brian and rests her hand on his arm. “Be safe.”
“You know it.”
When Brian closes the door behind him, she turns to me and shrugs. “If you want to fall back, now’s your chance.”
“When have I ever fallen back?”
“Never. That’s what got you a sucking chest wound in the desert. Listening to our mothers plan a full wedding over Thanksgiving dinner might hurt more.”
With a huffed laugh, I take her hand and walk toward the kitchen. “True. But the rewards are going to be worth it.” I look around the kitchen. “You need help with lunch?”
“Yeah, I’m heating up the chicken and noodles and potatoes from yesterday.”
“Roger.”
I start handing over dishes of leftovers to her. “Caleb?”
“Yep?”
“Are you going to want to stay at the lighthouse?”
I stand and shut the refrigerator door. “This is where you and the kids are, so yeah.”
She doesn’t look at me as she scrapes the chicken and noodles into a pot to reheat on the stove. “I mean, would you want us all to move off the island? It can get a little hairy when the boat is the only way to get to town.”
“I know I didn’t wow you with my sailing skills the other night, and I’m not on your seafaring level, but I can handle it.”
She glares at me with a look like I’m dense. “Caleb Quinlin, you have always been Mr. Popular and then Staff Sergeant Popular. I’m asking if you’ll go batshit crazy on an island where you can see the party but you just can’t get to it.”
“Negative. And I’m not sure Camden is party central.”
“We’ll see.”
“You keep saying that fucking shit, Brynn—”
We both turn at the loud intake of breath. “Uncle Caleb you swore, you swore bad.”
Ella’s bright blue eyes condemn me on the spot. At the same time, I have to try not to laugh at the shock on her face. Brynn doesn’t help by turning and unsuccessfully hiding her laughter as her shoulders shake.
“Sorry, Little Bit, I shouldn’t have said a bad word.”
“You said two bad words.”
I hip check Brynn when the shaking increases. “I shouldn’t have said two bad words.” I scrub a hand over my face hoping to erase any humor. I’m going to have to reset from a lifestyle where “fuck” is a noun, verb, adjective, and adverb.
“Aunt Brynn says bad words, too.”
It’s my turn to smile as Brynn whips around to face the mini church lady. “That’s enough, Ella, your uncle has apologized. Where’s Michael?”
“Setting up the game.”
“Go get him and tell him lunch is ready.” Ella scampers through the archway into the living room. “She almost has me trained.”
Adorable niece or not, I’m not letting her off the hook. “I’m serious, Brynn, enough with the ‘we’ll sees.’ Either you’re in or you’re not, but I’m not walking around on eggshells while you’re waiting for me to retreat. I’m going in one thousand percent. You need to be there, too.”
“Fair enough. I just got engaged this morning—I’m still getting used to the idea this is real.”
We both nod in mutual understanding as the kids join us. I set the table, while she sets the bowls of food out. I pick up Michael’s plate while she picks up Ella’s. She doesn’t look at me, but out of the corner of my eye I watch her smile spread. “Remember, he’s seven and isn’t running ten miles after lunch.”
Ella and Michael giggle—Michael at least having the good manners to try to cover his laughter.
“Oh, har, har, your aunt Brynn is funny.”
“I’m hilarious.” She winks and sets Ella’s plate in front of the little girl.
I reach around her with Michael’s plate and drop a kiss on her neck as I set his plate down. Being near her and listening to her laugh and then her intake of breath at my touch makes my heart ache at how much this is already feeling like home, and how all of this could have been mine years ago.
When she sits on the
bench, I settle next to her instead of the chair opposite Michael’s. She scoots closer during the blessing and I link our fingers together. My focus turns to the children as we start to eat, and I zero in on Michael choking down the peas as if he might gag. I turn to Ella, her plate vegetable-free.
“You forgot to give Ella peas.”
“She doesn’t like them. But she’s good about eating other vegetables, so I let it go.”
Frowning, I start shoveling in my food. Catching myself, I slow down realizing Michael’s trying to keep pace with my Marine-at-mess tempo. He has the peas secured and is enjoying the rest of his meal. I don’t want to question Brynn about showing favorites with Ella in front of the kids, but I toss her a glare. When she frowns at me in return, I start shoveling again.
When Michael looks at a missed pea like it’s the enemy, I can’t stand to watch him force it down. “Michael, don’t you like peas either?”
The boy loses about five shades. “No, sir.”
I shift to Brynn. “Why does he have to suck it up and Ella gets a pass?”
“Because Ella told me she doesn’t like peas. He cleans his plate.” Her no-nonsense corpsman voice has me turning back to Michael.
“Why didn’t you tell your aunt or me? It’s okay not to like things.”
He shrugs and stares at the offending vegetable. “I didn’t want to be rude. Daddy told us to eat what Mommy cooked.”
“Your dad made you eat what you don’t like?” Brynn rests a hand on my leg, I suppose to stop my interrogation, but the kid needs to open up.
“Some, but not always. Mom would sometimes make peas for them and broccoli for me.”
“We can do that, too.” Brynn’s voice holds the heartache I’m feeling.
Michael shakes his head. “I don’t want to be trouble.”
I rest my hand over his, mine swallowing his small hand. “You are not trouble, Michael. We love you, buddy.”
He swipes his other hand over his eyes to wipe at the moisture. “I know, but we should be good.”
I squeeze his hand. “You are good.” I glance at Ella and back. “Both of you are the best. Telling us you don’t like something doesn’t make you bad. Sometimes you’ll need to eat it or do what we tell you like it or not, and sometimes we can work on an alternative. Either way, you’re good.”
“Yes, sir.” He lifts his gaze to Brynn’s. “Yes, ma’am.”
She shifts closer to me and lifts an eyebrow even as her voice is choked with emotion. “So, you do really like my pumpkin pie, right?”
His smile turns bright. “Yes, ma’am, very much.”
“Good. ’Cause I’m making two this afternoon.”
When she sits back, she brushes a kiss on my cheek and whispers, “Thank you.”
I nod, but there’s more to it that Michael’s still keeping locked inside. I let it go for now, though; he’s settled back into eating and has his color back. I wink at Ella, who’s staring at me. “I suppose since you had cake today, you don’t need pie tomorrow?”
“Yes, I do, a big piece.”
I hold my hands close together. “This big?”
“Bigger.” Her giggles start.
I move my hands just a tad. “Oh, this big?”
“No, Uncle Caleb, this big.” She spreads her arms wide.
“You mean a Marine-sized piece of pie?”
She nods, her whole head bobbing. “Marine-sized.”
“That’s my girl.”
Her nodding continues. “Yep.”
Brynn nudges me with her elbow. “You two go ahead and start your chess tournament. I’ll clean up and Miss Ella can help.”
“Can I help with the pies? Nana let me help.”
“I was counting on it.”
Michael hops out of his chair. While standing I inspect the dishes on the table. “You sure?”
She nods to the archway. “Absolutely. Have fun.”
“We will.” Michael answers for us.
Resting a hand on his shoulder, I fall into step beside him keeping my stride short. He waves to the table. “It’s all set up.”
“Outstanding.”
“I’m good at chess.”
“I like the confidence.”
“I’m not good at sports.”
Feeling the tug of a frown on my forehead, I force a smile while trying to figure out where Michael is headed with the bombshell comment. “We can’t be good at everything.”
“But you’re good at sports and Dad was, too.”
Where he’s going with this is a mystery, but my gut tells me I’m about to head down a path laden with IEDs. I settle across from him at a foldout table in the living room. He moves a pawn. “I could learn to be good at some sport.”
I move my pawn opposite his. “If you want to take up a sport I’ll help you out, if you don’t want to play a sport, that’s great too.”
He moves the pawn again. “I was thinking, you know, it might be something we could do. If you’re staying. And you want. Like—” He shrugs. This kid is ripping my heart out.
“Did you and your dad do that?”
He shakes his head and pushes his glasses up on his nose. “He was busy, and like I said, I wasn’t any good at it.”
Neither was Mark when he was Michael’s age, and I can’t believe I’m pissed at my deceased brother. I move my knight. “I’d love to toss a football with you; Lacrosse, baseball, hockey, whatever. If you want to learn how to sail, though, that’s all on your aunt Brynn.”
“Thanks, Uncle Caleb.”
“Sure thing,” I choke out with Michael acting like I’m doing some huge favor spending time with him. “Hey!” I glare as he laughs and takes my knight. I hear Mark in his laughter and I swallow around a lump in my throat.
CHAPTER FIVE
Caleb
“Holy sh—” I step from the bathroom and drop the towel from my waist. I glance around the bedroom.
“What’s wrong?”
“Just making sure the swear police isn’t here.”
She laughs, but it stops short when I drop on the bed. I feel her gaze sweep over my naked body. When our gazes connect, she clears her throat. “You were saying?”
Ignoring her question for a moment, I take my time studying her hair. The dark wavy locks, long and loose over her shoulders, and the outline of her breasts firm and full. I’m enjoying the trail my gaze is on, so I move lower to where the T-shirt darkens with the shadow of her sex. Then I inspect her toned legs, not missing the fact they’re freshly shaved. This time I clear my throat before continuing. “Holy shit, am I tired. I’ve always known you were the ultimate badass Angel, but you taking care of them alone for a year…I salute you.”
“They’re really very good.”
“I’m not disputing that. I just came in here thinking I’ll just OoRah through it and things would fall into place like a well-oiled training. That crumbled fast. Michael put me through the ringer.”
“It was amazing how you got him to open up. He’s been a clam since the funeral. And you noticing his aversion to peas. That was outstanding.”
“Him talking, I’m not sure I did anything but listen. As for the vegetable issue, you’ve been around them every day. Sometimes it’s easier to see something when you’re new. You know that from combat.”
In a breath, she straddles my waist and her face hovers over mine. Her hazel eyes are on fire. I take a lock of her hair between two fingers and rub the silken strands shielding us. “That’s just it, you listened. He needed that.”
With a shrug, I continue to focus on the soft curl around my finger.
Her mouth curves in a smile more devil than angel. “You’re not too tired, right?”
“Only when I’m dead.”
When she doesn’t answer, or move, I shift my attention from her hair to her face. Her gaze searches mine, and her eyes are fading to a cold brown. After combing my fingers through her hair, I frame her face. “It’s just a saying, Angel.”
“I know, but you
’ve been too close too many times, and I wasn’t there for your full recovery the last time.”
“That was my fault.”
“Yes, it was. But I don’t want to talk about that right now. We have to face our families tomorrow and I want the memory of this morning, and how wonderful you were with Michael, and what we’re about to do to be what gets me through it.”
I let my fingers slip from the chestnut curls and rest on her hips. “We have twenty-seven years before all of this. Some of those memories should help.”
She presses a kiss to one side of my mouth and then the other. “They do. Believe me, it’s because of those years and the man I’ve seen with Ella and Michael that you’re in my bed right now.”
I want to argue that I’ve always been that man, but she’d know it was bullshit. That Marine would have never let her go. I can only show her over the next month, her Caleb is back. Her gaze drops. I grip her hair in a ponytail and tug her head, bringing those hazel eyes back to mine. “Then let’s make another memory to get us through a family meal.”
Her smile returns and she shakes my hand from her hair. Securing eye contact, she presses a kiss to my lips and then shifts on top of me and sucks and kisses my neck. When she continues to slide down, my body tenses recognizing exactly where she’s heading and anticipating every minute. Cupping her ass, I squeeze.
“This isn’t a reward, right? For today with Michael?”
She sits back and tugs off her T-shirt. I lower my gaze to her breasts, and she lifts my chin with her finger, bringing my eyes back to hers. Her grin is pure sass. “Your reward was a piece of pie. This, is because I’ve been thinking of tasting you since this morning.”
Before I can respond, she starts the sweet torture again, kissing and biting her way down my torso. I rock my hips under her in none-too-subtle hints, but she continues to feast on my abs. “So good,” she mumbles.
My moan is ripped from my soul when she wraps her lips around my cock and sucks. Bending my neck, I watch her work my length using her mouth and hand. I arch my neck and rock my hips, adding to the building friction.
She replaces her mouth with her pussy, lining up my cock and sinking until I’m balls deep. When she bites down on her bottom lip, I watch her struggle not to scream. I almost will her to call out my name, but this time we have to be quiet, or wake the house. I stare entranced as she rides me while molding her breasts with her hands, all while keeping eye contact, pleasing every sense.
