For Love and Honor

by Cathy Maxwell

  “There’s not a waking moment that I don’t think about those boys.” He paused, ducked his head, and shook it slowly. “Boys. Hell. They were warriors. And I was honored to be their friend.”

  Paige pressed her hand against her chest to hold back the wail that threatened to push through. But she would not falter. Aiden trusted her to be strong. Perhaps this was the first time he’d chosen to recount his story. She would not and could not let him down.

  He stopped beneath one of the more mature trees in the orchard—her favorite place to sit and think. Dream and desire. A place where she kept one of Aunt Bertie’s handmade quilts wedged into a fork in the tree and the most recent romance novel she’d chosen to read tucked inside the quilt.

  Aiden reached up and inspected a ripening Honeycrisp that dangled from a low branch. “And then… there was Rennie.”

  “Rennie?”

  A smile pushed up the corners of his beautiful mouth, and Paige’s heart stumbled.

  “Renegade.” He gave another slow shake of his head. “The fourth member of the three musketeers.” When he looked up, his entire expression had changed from a simple smile to a full-on grin. “Intel was waiting for a break, and we had some rare down time. One night after dark, the boys and I headed into the tent for a game of cards. Billy had lost three games straight. In the midst of his complaints I heard a sound outside. When I went to check I found this… puppy. This little fluff of dirty golden fur wandering around outside our tent.”

  “A puppy?”

  He nodded. “Wasn’t unusual to see dogs or cats hanging around. Looking for food. Shelter. Someone to care. Needless to say, they don’t view animals the same way over there as we do here.”

  His unspoken words sent a chill up her spine. She looked down at Cricket, who’d curled up at the base of the tree for a quick nap. Aiden didn’t need to describe the neglect or abuse the animals there must suffer. And she couldn’t bear to think of it.

  “When I knelt down,” Aiden continued, “that dirty little pup whimpered over to me. I picked him up. When he looked at me with those deep brown eyes and licked my chin, I was a goner.” He laughed, and the genuine sound gave Paige hope.

  “We weren’t supposed to keep a pet. For a long time we hid him. Then when he got too big to hide, our commander—who’d known Rennie was there all along—just turned his head. When we had to go out in the field, someone else was willing to take care of Rennie while I was gone. He offered a lot of comfort to those of us who’d been away from home for so long. But when I’d come back, Rennie would be there. He never left my side.”

  A slow intake of air stuttered in his chest. “Until the day they sent me home and I had to leave him behind.”

  “Leave him behind?” The idea was unimaginable. “Why?”

  “Not allowed.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “Pretty much.”

  The shadows that veiled his eyes told Paige all she needed to know. Leaving that dog behind had stripped him of anything else left in his soul.

  She curled her fingers around his arm. “Isn’t there something you can do?”

  The broad, strong shoulders that bore the weight of so much grief lifted in a shrug. “Someone mentioned an organization that helps bring back soldier’s dogs. But there are no guarantees.”

  “Oh, Aiden.” She pulled him into her arms and embraced him. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I left him with my team.” His hands settled lightly on her hips. “But all I can think about is him sitting there wondering why I abandoned him.”

  Paige’s heart broke into a million pieces. Aiden was not the type of man to abandon anything or anyone. Though a poor dog alone in the middle of the desert wouldn’t know that.

  As water tumbled over the rocks in the creek and moved along the sand, Paige felt Aiden close himself off. Everything inside him seemed to be at war with the peaceful surroundings. As if he didn’t deserve to be there. As if only a part of him stood on solid ground.

  She pressed her cheek against his chest. Heard the stutter in his heart. She couldn’t change what had happened. She could only offer him the chance to forget. If only for a moment.

  Lifting her head, she looked up into the handsome face she’d known since before she’d learned to tie her shoes. While the moon glowed above them, a dragonfly skimmed the rippling waters, and the click-click of the cicadas surrounded them as they looked into each other’s eyes.

  Heat and tension pulled them together, and their lips touched on a brief kiss. He pressed his forehead against hers, and Paige curled her fingers around the back of his neck.

  “I missed you,” she whispered. “So much.”

  His dark gaze moved slowly over her face. The memories of lying in his arms, kissing him, tasting him, caught like a sigh in her chest. “Touch me, Aiden.”

  “My hands are dirty, Paige. I don’t want—”

  She knew that in his mind, he could never clean them enough to wash away what he’d had to do with them in the war. She stepped back. Instead of relief in his eyes, she saw sorrow. Hunger. Whatever battle raged within him, Paige knew she could give him the one thing he’d missed for God knew how long.

  Comfort.

  She grasped the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head. Then she reached between her breasts, unlatched the plain white cotton bra, and tossed it to the ground. She took a step forward until the tips of her breasts met with the smooth, worn cotton of his shirt.

  “Touch me, Aiden.” She let her fingertips waltz across his strong jawline. “Let me welcome you home like I’ve always dreamed.”

  HOW COULD HE resist?

  Good intentions told him to pick up her clothes and hand them back to her. Good intentions told him to walk away.

  She deserved better.

  Good intentions did not move lower in his body. Everything below his belt was running on heat, and emotion, and need. He’d loved Paige the day he’d tossed his duffel on his back and headed off to basic training. He’d loved her when his boots had hit the sands of Iraq. He’d loved her when he’d read her letters over and over—yet rarely responded.

  For her sake.

  He was responding now.

  To her inner strength. Her optimism. Her unwillingness to give up on him.

  For his sake.

  Paige. The woman who’d waited for him. Even when there had been a significant chance he would never come home.

  For weeks, months—hell, even years—he’d dreamed of holding her close. Touching her. Tasting her. Devouring her.

  She deserved better than him.

  Instead of walking away as he should, he curved his hands over her smooth shoulders, drew her close, and covered her mouth with his own. The soft touch of her lips brought him back. The womanly scent of her skin urged him to move forward and never look back. His hand slid down the curve of her spine, cupped her bottom, and brought her tight against his erection. She leaned into him, rose to the balls of her feet, and wrapped her arms around his neck with a sigh. His arms surrounded her and they came together—heart to heart. His gaze swept over her plump, moist mouth, and their lips met again. Their tongues touched and danced. And the past simply melted away. He could kiss her all day and it would never be enough.

  Her fingers were cool as they slipped beneath his shirt to pull the fabric over his head. And then they stood flesh to flesh. Her body warm, ripe, and full of promise. Memories. Hope.

  Desire burned inside of him as she briefly broke their embrace to grab a quilt stuck in the fork of the apple tree and spread it on the ground. And then she was back in his arms, touching him. Caressing him with heated silk that glided along his nerve endings, making his heart race, his desire spin out of control.

  She unzipped his jeans and slid them down his legs. She tossed the pants into the increasing pile of clothes and kissed her way back up his thighs. Her long, delicate fingers embraced, stroked, and enticed his already throbbing erection. When she cupped him with gentle hands and took hi
m into her mouth with a low hum of satisfaction, it was everything he could do not to buckle at his knees.

  For a moment he stood there with his hands buried in the thick of her honey-gold hair, selfish with the need to feel whole again. Anxious with the desire to be one with her. To be buried deep within her warmth. To be held within her arms. He dropped to his knees, eased her back to the quilt, and followed her down. His hands molded to her full breasts, smoothed down her luscious curves. He bent his head and kissed her mouth, then he moved lower to savor the erect tips of her breasts. She tasted like sunshine, and honey, and all the good things he remembered about being alive.

  When his heartbeat kicked into a frantic race, his hands made quick work of removing her jeans and tiny pink panties and adding them to the pile of clothes beneath the apple tree. Her warm, soft lips danced across his chest.

  She looked up at him with a smile in her eyes. “I like your tattoo.”

  He gave a brief glance to the eagle in flight that covered his left bicep then leaned down and licked the small heart tattooed just above her left breast. “I like yours too.”

  He moved over her, their bodies pressed together, and she opened to let him in. He slid inside her and was overcome by the rush of liquid heat. He lowered his forehead to hers until he could quell the need to pump hard and find a fast release. When his mind finally got the signal, they settled into slow, languid movements that allowed him to soak in every tiny sensation that spiraled through their connected bodies.

  “I’m so glad you’re home,” she sighed against his ear.

  For the moment, he was glad too.

  Before his demons returned to mess with his thoughts, he gave Paige all his attention. He made slow, sweet love to her, as if he were still the man he used to be. When they came together with a final thrust and moan, Aiden realized that he’d give anything to be the man Paige wanted him—needed him—to be.

  As much as he wanted it to be true, he also realized it was impossible to resurrect the dead.

  Chapter Five

  CONTENT AND SATED in Aiden’s arms, Paige knew the exact moment his past came crashing down. His body suddenly tensed at noises that had surrounded them the entire night. Yet now, he reacted as if they were the enemy. Oh, he wasn’t showing her any of that, but when you knew the boy before he’d become the man, it wasn’t hard to see. Her only alternative became distraction.

  She rolled to her side and laid her head on his shoulder. Then she took advantage of his perfect, masculine chest and let her fingers play in the soft, fine hair. “We can do that again anytime you’re ready.”

  To her delight, he chuckled.

  “I’ve been out of commission for so long, recovery could go either way.”

  “Mmmm.” She leaned in and kissed him. “I’m willing to wait.”

  In that moment, his body tensed in a whole different way. And though she tried to drag her arm across him to hold him in place, she did not succeed. Before she could mutter the words “What are you doing?” he was up and tugging on his clothes.

  Damn.

  “What’s the hurry?” she asked.

  His hands stopped on his jeans mid-zip. He watched her through eyes filled with regret.

  Damn it.

  “I’m sorry, Paige.”

  “Don’t say that.” When she realized he wasn’t going to come back and lie down beside her, she felt exposed and got up to dress. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

  “The hell there isn’t.” The zipper on his jeans slid to the top, and he shook that old grey T-shirt like a flag of surrender. “I just took advantage of you.”

  “Are you crazy?” She yanked her T-shirt over her head. “I’m no Strawberry Shortcake, Aiden. I wanted you. You wanted me. That’s consensual need. Not exploitation.”

  “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “You beautiful fool.” A humorless laugh pushed past her lips. She looked up at him through the moonlight. “I’ve waited years for you to do exactly that.”

  He jammed his fingers into his short hair then dropped his hands to his lean hips. “I didn’t come see you today for this, Paige.”

  “I know.” She folded her arms across her chest as if they could hold back all the emotions. All the things she wanted to say.

  “I came… to tell you goodbye,” he said. His tone quiet. His words flat.

  Her heart slammed against her ribs. “You’re leaving again?”

  “I don’t know.” He glanced behind him, then back at her. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I’m broken, Paige. And I’m pretty damned sure nothing can fix me.”

  “That’s bull.”

  He shook his head. “The person you knew went to war and never came back. You deserve better than what I have to give.”

  “The man I knew is standing right here. Feeding me a bunch of crap I don’t believe.”

  “Move on, Paige. Forget about me.” He glanced away again, and Paige knew even he was having a hard time believing his own words. Then those dark, haunted eyes came right back to her. “I can’t love you.”

  “Can’t? Or don’t?” She sucked in a lungful of air to calm the desperation churning like butter in her stomach. “Because there’s a difference.”

  His chin dropped to his chest and he shook his head. “Too much has happened.”

  “Maybe so. But you’re wrong, Aiden. You’re still the man you used to be. Only more.” Paige kept her voice calm. Yelling wouldn’t get through to him. He had to arrive at conclusions on his own. No amount of whining or persuading would do a bit of good. She just had to state the facts and then give him time. She’d already given him plenty. What were a few more days, weeks, months?

  “I love you, Aiden.” The confession that jumped from her mouth was not a surprise to either of them. “I always have. If I have to give you up because you’ve fallen in love with someone else, I’ll do it. I won’t like it, but I’ll do it. Because your happiness means everything to me.” Her fingers curled into her palms. “But I will not give you up and let this sorrow swallow you and make you disappear. I can’t do that.”

  She slowly shook her head and held back the wash of tears that burned in her eyes. “You may have given up on you. But I never will.”

  Several heartbeats passed while they stood an arm’s length away from each other in a stare-down that Paige swore she would win. At their feet Cricket woke from her nap and gave a little whine as if she sensed the tension in the air. Paige stood in place, resolute that she would not bend in her belief. No matter what he said.

  The pressure in her chest squeezed harder as he bent at the knees and gave Cricket a brisk rub on her head. Then he stood, stepped forward, and wrapped Paige in his arms. He held her tight. Kissed her forehead. And completely broke her heart.

  “Goodbye, Paige.”

  Chapter Six

  IF YOU WANTED to get the word out in Sweet, one method worked faster than picking up the phone. Luckily for Paige, today the Digging Divas Garden Club held their monthly meeting at Bud’s Diner. In two shakes of a can of whipped cream, the message would go out faster than a speedboat on smooth water.

  Paige grabbed her keys off Aunt Bertie’s oak dresser and jogged down the stairs. Just like when she’d gone for her college degree or made the purchase of Honey Hill, she had a plan. So far she’d been batting a thousand. She wouldn’t allow this goal to be any different. It simply meant too much.

  Ten minutes later her red F–150 slid to a gravel-spewing-stop in the lot beside Bud’s. She grabbed her work apron from the seat and jumped down from the truck. The lot was still half-full with late morning coffee-slurpers. In another hour the lunch crowd would converge and there would be standing room only. A perfect audience for when she sounded the alarm.

  “I STAYED UP HALF the night doing Internet research,” Paige said, searching the focused expressions around the crowded tables. Her heart trembled with how much they cared about the situation and how eager they were to help. “Early this morning I
made a few calls to the organization and they said they would look into it. Well, they work fast. Before I left for work they called me back with the news that they can make it happen. They don’t require a fee, but they do ask for donations to keep them afloat and able to help others in the same situation. I figure we need to come in around four thousand.”

  “Dollars?” The brim of Ethel Weber’s lime green straw hat bobbled above her lavender hair.

  “Hard, cold, American cash,” Paige answered.

  “That’s nothing.” Ray Calhoun lifted his old farmer’s hand in a dismissive wave. “Hell, we raised ten thousand to pay for Missy Everhart’s funeral when she took ill so fast.”

  “Can’t put a dollar amount on what this will do for someone who’s given so much,” said Jan West, owner of Goody Gum Drops, the candy store painted like a peppermint stick in the center of town.

  “Can we get it done before the Apple Butter Festival?” Paige asked the crowd gathered inside the diner.

  “Three weeks?” Hazel Calhoun scoffed. “Easy Cheesy.”

  Bill McBride, Vietnam vet and local good guy, stood, imposing in his leather vest and various military patches. “Consider it done.” He turned to the crowd. “Right?”

  The unity in the agreement that echoed across the diner sent a ribbon of warmth fluttering through Paige’s heart.

  Aiden may not ask for much, but the people who loved him the most were about to give him everything.

  THE AXE ARCED high overhead then slammed into the rotted tree trunk. Aiden pulled his hands back, yanked a bandana from his back pocket, and swept the cloth across his forehead.