by Zoe York
“Huh.”
“What?”
“Didn’t think you were a quitter.”
“We’re all quitters. Don’t give me that. I couldn’t stay on the teams.”
“Not what I said. To everything there is a season, and we’re done serving our country in that way, sure. But we’re not done being good guys and doing good things, right?”
But Mick thought he might be tapped out. Drained of all that heroic virtue he’d once thought such a core part of his being. He hadn’t felt like a hero since the day his leg had been ripped to shreds, and he sure as shit didn’t feel like one now.
Except…he couldn’t shake that nagging feeling in his gut that he shouldn’t have left the plantation. Shouldn’t have left Cara.
He might not feel heroic, but he still had a strong sense of duty. He just resented it, because… “You guys are doing good things here, aren’t you?”
Finn shrugged. “Yeah, I think so. It’s hard not to be on the front lines anymore. But you also gotta trust that the guys who took our place are the best. Brayden’s trained them to be hard as fuck, right?”
Mick had to nod. Yeah, his buddy was the best BUD/S instructor there was.
“You didn’t leave a hole there, Mick. Getting injured…that's life-altering. But you didn’t wound the navy. You’re the one that got hurt. You’re the one that needs to be put back together. The navy will carry on just fine without you.”
He laughed, raw and hollow at first, but then the truth of what Finn was saying finally hit him. “Damn.”
“Yeah.” Finn took a long, slow drink, watching Mick over the bottle the whole time. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before continuing. “Can I ask you a hard question?”
“What has the rest of this conversation been?”
Finn laughed. “Didn’t you know you were coming to the Keys for kick-in-the-ass therapy?”
“Not exactly.” Mick tipped his head forward. “Shoot. Hit me with your worst.”
“Does your woman know you’re torn up like this inside?”
No. And if he had anything to say about it, she wouldn’t. Ever. “It’s dark, you know? That guilt. Like I’m embarrassed to feel this way. But it’s hard to shake, too.”
“I get that.” Finn spread his arms out wide. “I’m not judging, man. At all. Just talking it out.”
“Thanks.”
“Just remember, getting out of the military didn’t change your personality, and what you need. It’s in your blood, it’s who you are, and if you pretend otherwise, you’re never going to be satisfied with the new life you’re trying to create. It won’t be enough.”
They sat like that for a few minutes, Mick stewing over his thought, Finn just watching the dogs in the nearby dog run.
Then Finn stood and pointed to the kennel. “You want to see what we’re doing here?”
“You bet.” Mick stood as well, promising himself that he’d leave as much of this shit behind him when he left again. It was time to step up and be all-the-way honest with Cara about who he was and what he wanted.
EIGHTEEN
WHEN MICK GOT BACK TO THE ISLAND LATE TWO NIGHTS LATER, he couldn’t find Cara anywhere.
She wasn’t at home, or the plantation, and he even looked up the Historical Society and went by their offices. Closed up for the night.
He’d promised her a week, but after spending two days getting some good sense knocked into him by Finn, he knew he couldn’t stay away that long.
He didn’t need to stalk her, though, so he headed back to the plantation and tucked himself into his bunk.
While he was gone, Will had arranged to officially rent the space from the estate, so Mick was a legal tenant. This was his home for the foreseeable future.
In the morning he would see what he could do about getting a bigger bed.
After his worn paperback copy of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep smacked him in the face for the third time, he admitted he needed to just go the fuck to sleep.
She’ll be around in the morning.
He left his light on, though. Just in case.
~
CARA’S HEART SWELLED IN HER CHEST WHEN SHE PULLED INTO THE PLANTATION in the middle of the night.
A little bird had told her that Mick had landed at the airport, and when she got back from Sunshine Bay, Miralinda’s capital city, she came straight to him.
Using a flashlight to light her way, she made her way through the garden. There was a faint glow in the front window, and when she opened the door she found the source—he’d left his lantern on and his door open.
After slipping off her shoes, she kept silently into his room and lifted the soft sheet draped over his large, slumbering body.
He needed a bigger bed. Maybe one that didn’t have a top bunk.
“Cara?” he mumbled as she curved against his back.
“Shhh, go back to sleep,” she whispered, kissing his back.
“I couldn’t stay away.”
“I know. I’m sorry I asked you to.”
“Come here.” He rolled over and pulled her into his side. His voice was full of sleep and all his muscles were relaxed, and it was like being hugged by a giant, sweet teddy bear. “Just let me hold you.”
An unexpected tear leaked out the corner of her eye as he quickly drifted off again, his arms now steel bands around her.
She didn’t sleep much herself, which was totally fine, because when he woke up at the crack of dawn, she rose with him, and over coffee she told him her plan.
“They can take it or leave it,” she said after explaining how she’d come to the realization that she didn’t need the Historical Society to do what she wanted to do with Villa Sucre.
“Are you sure you can be that firm with them? It all sounds expensive.”
She nodded. “And that’s where your friend comes in. The billionaire?”
“He’s not exactly a billionaire,” Mick said, his lips twitching at the echo of his own threat.
She stuck her tongue out at him. “I know. But his grandmother was, and there’s a butt load of money somewhere in that estate. So I think, and this is where you come in—we make a joint application to the executors. Will inherits the land, as it’s probably rightfully his, but the millworks and the main house are protected and supported by a trust. There’s enough land around, either that came with the property or that could be purchased adjacent to it, that he can build a modern training facility somewhere that doesn’t require demolishing those two buildings. And the trust would provide money, not just for repairs, but also fund an endowment that would support an ongoing living history project. And if we do that right, then the Tourism Board would provide an annual grant as well. Tax write-offs, charitable good will, and a tourist draw that goes beyond beach and pampering. It’s a win for everyone.”
“You’ve thought this out.” He looked surprised, and then chagrined. “Of course you have. This is what you do, isn’t it?”
It was what she’d wanted to do, but the Historical Society had never been interested. But now… she pressed her hands tighter around her coffee mug to keep her fingers from shaking. “When I was at school, I did a placement at an aboriginal village living museum. It was amazing. I don’t want to go off-island to have that kind of career opportunity again. I want to make my own opportunity, you know?”
He looked at her for a long, stretched-out beat, then nodded. His cheeks had coloured a bit. “I do. And I wish I’d seen that before. It’s a brilliant solution, Cara. But more than that, I’m proud of you. I’ve spent the last couple of days with a friend of mine who’s built something really incredible in the Florida Keys. I want to do that here. With you. It would mean a lot to me to get this right.”
Mick was talking about feelings? The world had tilted on its axis overnight. “That’s great,” she said softly. “So you had a good trip?”
“If by good you mean humbling, then yes.” He gave her a rueful smile. “But at the end of it, inspiring as wel
l. Finn reminded me that I need to find something I can fight for again. He’s struggling with his own demons, too, but he’s still putting one foot in front of the other. That’s what I need to do. That’s who I am—a fighter, a protector. Leaving you to do this on you own didn’t sit right with me. But I’m proud as hell that you dug deep and figured out what you wanted.”
“I did.” God, that felt awesome to admit. “Still need to actually put the plan into action, though.”
“We’ll do that together.”
“I might need to quit my job.”
“We can be unemployed together.”
“I’m going to start a blog about this.”
“You’re on your own for that. I prefer to lurk in the shadows of the internet.”
“I know.” She let out a small squeak when he set down his mug and stood, rounding the table.
“Cara…”
“Yes?”
“Were you spying on me?”
“You were spying on me! You left my computer on after you looked in it.”
“No, I definitely turned it off.”
“Ah ha!” She slid off her chair and shifted it between them, laughing like an idiot when he lunged for her. “I tricked you into admitting you spied on me, though.”
“Full points for trickery.” He snatched the chair from her grasp and shoved it out of the way.
Three steps. Two steps.
Bump. Her back hit the wall and Mick leaned in, trapping her against the rough wood. “Got you.”
“Brute,” she whispered, her chest rising and falling between them.
“Take me down, then,” he said quietly, gliding his fingertips along her jaw and down her neck. “Torture me until you get me to admit other things.”
“Like what?”
“Like I love you.” His eyes crinkled just a bit as he said it, suddenly sober again.
Oh. She sucked in a breath and held it. He loved her?
The four letter word she’d been holding in burst out of her so fast she barely heard herself say it back. “Love you too.”
“Cara—”
“I wanted to tell you the other night,” she said, the words still tumbling out of her mouth. “When we made love at my place. But it was too fast, too scary. So I didn’t say it then, but I do. Love you. So much.”
“It is a little scary, isn’t it?”
She nodded, pressing up on her toes. A kiss would make it better. A hug. Mick’s arms around her could keep any and all darkness at bay.
He brushed his lips over hers, softly at first, then deeper, as they wound themselves around each other and filled in the rest of the conversation with their bodies.
A very long hour later, they stumbled out of his bedroom for the second time that morning.
Mick was in front of her, so when he stopped suddenly, a few feet into the common room, she bounced off his back. Solid as a rock, the man was. Great for mind-blowing sex. Not so great for walking into. “Babe?” she asked as she peeked her head around him.
He was staring at the empty room.
“What is it?”
“Move in with me,” he said. “If you quit your job. You should move in with me. We can bring over the kitchen appliances from the main house, because they’re not historic, and while this place might have been kinda squashed for a full complement of staff, it would be a great house for two people.”
“What about your friends when they get here?”
He glanced down at her with an amused look on his face. “Seriously? They’re my brothers in all the ways that matter, but they don’t pull rank over the woman I love. They can sleep in town. Or in the main house if they promise not to damage it. Maybe in a tent in the ballroom.”
She turned pink.
“Or in Petite Ciotat. I think we’re going to need to radically revise our own business plan, and I bet you can help with that. But sooner or later, we’re going to need office space. Might as well be social and have it in town.”
She straightened up and slid around him. That was as far as she got because he banded his arm around her waist, holding her close. She liked that. She loved him. It was actually a very simple decision to make.
“Yes. I’ll move in with you. I’ll even bring my bed.”
NINETEEN
HE HEARD THE FRONT DOOR OPEN, AND PICTURED Cara moving through their space as he listened to her steps.
She’d moved into The Bunkhouse, as he’d officially re-named it with a sign he made out of driftwood, shortly after quitting her job with the Historical Society.
It allowed her to save the money that she’d been spending on rent. And instead of buying a new bed, they now slept together in hers—in what turned out to be a pretty big bedroom once they threw out the bunk beds that had taken up a lot of valuable floor real-estate.
It had just been a few weeks, but they already flowed around each other like they’d shared a space for ages.
“Mick?” she called out.
“In here,” he shouted back.
“Want a beer?” It had been a long, hard day of work for both of them.
“Yeah, thanks!”
The fridge door opened, then closed. God, he loved the sound of cold beer bottles clinking together. Loved it even more when he knew he was a few minutes away from sharing the end-of-the-day drink with his love.
She appeared in the doorway of the bathroom, then started laughing. “You’re in the tub.”
“Yes.” He grinned at her.
Her eyes hooded as she took in the bubbles and his legs sticking out the end. “You’re naked.”
“That’s the general idea when one takes a bath.” He swirled his hands through the steaming water. The bubbles shifted and she made a weak, gurgling sound that made him want to haul her into the tub with him.
“I was just going…” She trailed off.
“Cat got your tongue?”
She gave him a smirk and propped her hands on her hips. “This isn’t fair.”
He knew what she meant. She had to go into town. But he wanted to have a bubble bath with his woman. Town could wait. He gave her a look of pure innocence. “I spent all morning ripping shingles off the breakfast room. My muscles wanted a soak.”
“With my cocoa butter bubble bath?”
“It’s extra moisturizing.”
“You know I can’t resist…” She stopped her foot. “Mick! This is cruel. I have to go run some errands.” She didn’t move.
“You want to join me?”
She yipped, a fucking adorable sound that primed his pump in a real way. Her eyes were wide as he settled his hands on the sides of the tub and lifted himself up a few inches. Her gaze darted from his mid-section, just barely still covered in bubbles, to his arms, and then as her cheeks turned red, back to the bubbles.
He gave her another inch. Any second now, his cock would bob out of the water, and…
She pulled off her tank top. “If I don’t get to the market before it closes, we’re having leftovers for dinner.”
He waited until she shoved her shorts to the floor, then snagged her wrist and tugged her in. Her little white panties would look delectable when wet. See through and utterly erotic.
“This bath isn’t about soaking your muscles at all, is it?” she murmured as he settled her in front of him.
He scooped up some bubbles and used them to paint her pretty brown nipples, darker than the rest of her skin, but not by much. God, she was beautiful. “What?”
“You’re incorrigible,” she said with a laugh that turned to a moan as his ministrations got a little rougher.
“I’m in love,” he retorted. “It’s a new and amazing phenomenon. I’m still exploring all its many side benefits.”
“Such as?”
“Orgasms are better than drugs, did you know that?”
~
CARA WOULD NEVER TIRE OF HEARING THAT CAREFREE, happy tone in her boyfriend’s voice. So different than the carefully laid-back but secretly guarded man who’d stormed
into her life not that long ago.
She grinned to herself. “Pretty sure you had orgasms before you met me.”
“Pretty sure my hand doesn’t make me high, kitten.”
She rolled her eyes, but she knew what he meant. There was definitely something intoxicating about the magic they made together.
“Plus the after-effects last for days.”
“How would you know? You’ve hardly gone days without another hit.”
“I did that once. It was enough to know there’s an awful, miserable crash on day four.”
She giggled. “Poor man.”
“I know. Awful.”
“So if I said I’d received an invitation to a conference in Denver and might be gone for a week or two?”
“Really?” The joking tone in his voice dropped and he turned her around, sloshing water out of the tub. The lusty look on his face had been replaced by straight-up keen interest. “What kind of conference?”
“An association of living history and farm museums. Someone found my blog and shared the link.”
“That’s amazing.”
“What about your orgasms?” she asked, teasingly.
“That’s what Skype is for.” He hauled her against him for a wet, splashy kiss. “Oh, kitten, I’m so proud of you.”
She snorted. “I haven’t done anything yet.”
“But you will. We will. And that’s amazing. It took me months to bounce back, barely—really, allow myself to be dragged back—from losing my career. You’ve hardly blinked.”
“That’s because I didn’t lose anything at all,” she said softly. She nuzzled her nose against his, then slid closer again for another kiss, this one sweeter, and longer than the last. And then it wasn’t sweet at all, but slow and hot and dirty, and before she knew what was happening, he had her turned around, facing away from him.
He teased her through her lace panties, then slid them to the side and entered her roughly—just the way she wanted it. He always knew.
