by Tawny Weber
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Cade said absently, waiting until she took her cup of tea—in fine china with no seal—and was settled into her favorite chair before taking his own seat. “The doctors know what they’re doing. If he listens I’m sure he’ll be home with a private nurse by the end of the week.”
Which meant Robert would be in the hospital for at least two weeks, and probably cause at least three nurses to take mental health leave. Cade didn’t care.
Now that he knew the old man would live, he’d done his duty by coming home. Now to get the hell out of here.
“He’s going to be horribly bored,” Catherine mused, as if terrorizing nurses and browbeating doctors wasn’t entertainment enough for her son. “Maybe you could go by and visit this afternoon?”
“I don’t think my visits are that good for his health,” Cade said, offering a teasing smile to balance the bitterness in his words. As much as he loved his grandmother, he didn’t see any point in perpetuating her naive hope that someday, somehow, her son and grandson would bond.
“It’s good for both of you to spend time together,” Catherine insisted, taking a dainty bite of her cookie before dipping the shortbread in her tea. “And it’s a relief for him to know you’re handling those little business issues.”
“One issue, which is his trying to evict a neighbor you used to have over for teddy-bear tea parties,” Cade pointed out. “And I haven’t done anything to handle it so far.”
“But you will, won’t you?” Catherine leaned forward, her eyes intent as she gave her grandson the harshest look in her arsenal. The one that shot guilt like a laser. “Whatever your feelings about your father’s business practices, Eden needs your help. You’re going to help her figure out a way out of this, aren’t you? Take care of her, please.”
He’d taken damned good care of her last night.
But that was definitely not the kind of care his grandmother was talking about. Nor was it the kind he should even be thinking about, let alone wanting to repeat a few dozen times. He needed to forget about it. Pretend it had never happened.
Before he did something stupid.
“Mrs. Sullivan,” Dora called from the door. “There’s a phone call.”
The live-in housekeeper offered Cade a friendly smile, but didn’t give any other indication that she spoke to him on a monthly basis with updates on Catherine’s well-being. If grandmother knew he was checking up on her, she’d pitch a fit. She’d probably follow it up with a hug and a plate of cookies, but Cade figured it was better to keep her fits to a minimum.
“Probably another person wanting to know all about your tête-à-tête with Eden last night. For someone who hasn’t handled things, you’ve sure started a lot of chitchat around town,” Catherine said, rising with an ease that belied her years. Her green eyes, so like Cade’s own, twinkled behind round spectacles. “When I come back you can give me the details so I know what to tell people. And then you can fill me in on what really happened.”
Holy hell.
And he was worried about doing something stupid?
He’d pretty much already covered that.
Cade managed to wait until his grandmother was out of the room before he buried his face in his hands and groaned.
God, what had he been thinking, going down on Eden like that?
Yes, she was fun and sexy and cute.
She was also a tie to the hometown he couldn’t walk away from as long as his grandmother was alive. A tie that came with expectations. Responsibilities. Serious repercussions.
None of which Cade was willing to take on.
But, oh, God, she was delicious.
His mouth watering at the memory, Cade jumped to his feet.
Crazy. This was why ignoring his own rules was emotional suicide. Why getting involved with a friend was insane.
Unable to stay still, he paced the room. He scooped up a handful of cookies off the gilt-edged plate, tossing them, one at a time, in his mouth. Like always, he felt as if he was tiptoeing through a child’s dollhouse here. Dainty furniture, gilt and crystal decorations. The surfaces were scattered with fresh flowers in everything from Baccarat to a mason jar, the bright scent of spring filling the air.
He wanted to leave. To get back to...what?
The base in Coronado?
What did it say about him that he had no interest in returning to the one place he really considered home?
Tension did a little tap dance along the back of his neck as Cade wondered what had happened.
He’d always been itching for another mission, amped up to dive into action.
Now?
Now he had nothing.
No enthusiasm.
No energy.
No interest.
Not in his career.
Definitely not in being back in his hometown.
The only thing that’d sparked any excitement was Eden, and she was off-limits. He’d stepped over the line, lost his head the night before. He was smart enough, savvy enough, to make sure it didn’t happen again.
No matter how much he wanted it to.
One thing he could thank his father for, the old man had taught him young that you didn’t always get what you wanted.
Tossing another cookie in his mouth, Cade stopped at the grand piano. He hated that thing. It’d taken him a year to get out of the mandatory lessons his mother had insisted on. And at the tender age of six, the instrument had prompted his father to call him a quitter for the first time.
Good times.
His gaze skimmed the photos. Eighty years, plus, of framed memories scattered, dust-free, over the glossy black surface. His father’s baby pictures, a variety of weddings, his own life in photos.
His eyes landed on an ebony frame. It was like a punch to the gut. Grinding his teeth, it took all his effort not to grab the photo and toss it out the window.
It was a photo of Cade, Blake Landon and Phil Hawkins on the day they’d graduated basic training. He used to laugh when he saw it. They were the epitome of the Three Amigos—Blake’s uniform was perfectly pressed and his expression indulgent, Cade wore his dark shades looking like he was posing for a military ad, and Phil was cutting up by doing his Popeye impression. Boy Scout, Slick and The Joker.
They’d each earned—and lived up to—their nicknames.
Right up until one of them had died.
Cade’s guts knotted, emotions wrapping around and getting them in a stranglehold.
It wasn’t like he thought they were invincible. He’d always known the risks, reveled in them actually. They all had. And it wasn’t like his belief in what they fought for, in their mission, had slipped any. He was still one-hundred percent on board.
But he was tired, dammit.
It felt like he’d been fighting, full-tilt, since he was a kid. First to get into the navy, then into the SEALs. Then, well, his job was to fight. Because he was damned good at it, he got to do it a lot.
Now?
Now he wondered how much fight he had left in him.
How long he could keep pushing before he hit the wall, burned out. Made a fatal mistake.
Cade hated that thought. Hated himself for entertaining it. He was grateful beyond words that his grandmother chose that moment to return. He almost grabbed her for a tight hug, so happy for the distraction from his miserable thoughts.
“That was Reba Carmichael. We’re having lunch tomorrow to chat.” Cade waited for his grandmother to take her seat before dropping into his own. “She said she has news, plus she wants me to see how much her cat has grown. I understand you met her yesterday?”
It took Cade a few seconds to shift his thoughts. Then another few to shove the lingering misery aside. He’d given up on eradicating it.
“Mrs. Carmichael?” he finally said. “I think I met her when I was in first grade.”
“The cat, dear.”
Oh. Cade replayed his grandmother’s words.
“The cat Eden rescued?” At Catherine’s nod,
Cade shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“That dear Eden. Reba said the sweet girl charmed her cat, who isn’t easy to impress, truth be told. And incidentally why don’t you tell me what you were doing with that sweet Gillespie girl last night if you weren’t discussing your father’s loan?” Catherine asked, watching him over the rim as she sipped her tea. There was a calculating look in those eyes, rarely seen, that clued Cade in to where his father had got some of his shrewd sense.
“You know, you’re pretty lethal.” Cade laughed drily. At his grandmother’s chiding look, he gave a jerk of his shoulder. “It was just drinks. We never actually got around to talking about anything substantial because the town gossips kept stopping by and interrupting. I finally gave up and took her home.”
With one short, incredibly delicious break between the bar and her house.
Not thinking about it in front of your grandmother, he scolded his body.
“But you’ll help Eden before you leave, won’t you? Make sure all this silly loan business is taken care of so she doesn’t have to worry about her home?” Catherine prodded like a white-haired, velvet-covered steamroller. “She can’t be made to pay for her mother’s carelessness. That just wouldn’t be fair, dear.”
Why didn’t she just tell her son to get off Eden’s back? She had as much, no more, influence in this situation as Cade had. If it had been anyone else, he would have snapped. But this was his grandmother. For whatever reason, she never directly forced her son’s hand. But she clearly wanted—with good reason—the threat to Eden’s well-being dealt with.
How could he deny her that? Cade took a deep breath, leaned forward to pick up the cookie plate and offered it, and his most amiable smile.
“For you, Grandmother, anything,” he promised.
His reward was a tittering laugh, a flutter of the lashes and his grandmother waving the last cookie toward him.
Yep, he thought as he bit into the buttery treat, charm always won out in the end.
“Now tell me, when are you going back to San Diego?” Catherine asked, those shrewd eyes still locked on him. “You’ve some decisions to make once you get there, don’t you?”
Cade had to swallow the cookie crumbs that had just turned to dust in his throat before he could answer. What the hell? Did he have a sign over his head, proclaiming that his life was going down the toilet?
“Not as many as you’d think,” he sidestepped. “I follow orders. That tends to take a lot of the decision making off my shoulders.”
“But some things aren’t ordered from higher up, are they?”
Like what to do with his career?
Or how to overcome the gut-wrenching feeling that he was betraying his own self by wanting a break from playing hero?
Then, a thought occurring to him, Cade narrowed his eyes and leaned forward to prop both elbows on his knees. He gave his grandmother a chiding look.
“You’ve been gossiping with Uncle Seth again, haven’t you?”
“Don’t be silly.” As if her cheeks hadn’t just turned bright pink, she tut-tutted before hiding behind her teacup again.
“So you’re saying that Uncle Seth didn’t call and talk to you about some possible changes in my MOS?”
“MOS, dear?”
Cade’s smile widened. Oh, she was so good. He knew perfectly well that she knew more about military designations and terminology than most. But he knew the game, and how much she liked playing it.
“Military Occupational Specialty,” he supplied, crossing one leg over the other and settling into the chair. “You know, job title.”
“Oh, that MOS. I actually hadn’t talked to Seth since the end of January. He calls every other month or so to keep me up to date on things.” She gave a regretful look at her empty teacup, then set it down with a delicate snap before arching one elegant brow. “So, what would your uncle have told me about you changing jobs if he’d broken tradition and called early?”
Cade shook his head. Nope, not going there. The last thing he needed was more people weighing in on his career and trying to tell him what they thought he should do.
“If you weren’t asking about my assignment, what were you referring to?”
“I had a lovely note from your friend, Blake.”
What the hell? Blake was ratting him out now? Other than curling his hands into fists, Cade didn’t show any reaction. But the minute he got a hold of his best friend...? His fingers throbbed.
“So...Blake wanted to inform you of, what? My current job performance evaluation? Isn’t that a little above his pay grade?”
Not that it mattered that Blake was a Lieutenant and he was a Lieutenant Commander. Cade had never saw the rank difference as more than a couple of training choices, since Blake had spent two years focused on linguistics while Cade played with guns.
But still, where did the guy get off talking shit to Cade’s grandmother? Wasn’t he supposed to be a friend? What happened to covering each other’s asses?
Catherine gave him a long, considering look before getting to her feet, crossing over to where he sat and grabbing the cookie out of his hand.
“Bratty mouths don’t deserve sweets,” she said primly. With enough force to turn the treat to crumbs, she smacked the cookie on the plate, then sat back down like nothing had happened.
Cade stared at his grandmother, then at the plate.
Damn. Regretting more than the loss of his snack, he sighed.
“I’m sorry,” Cade said honestly. “Why don’t you tell me what Blake was contacting you about.”
Because it hadn’t been about Cade, his job or anything personal. Blake didn’t do that. The guy took his commitments—and friendship was a major one—as seriously as his missions.
“His lovely fiancée sent an engagement announcement, and I replied. We know her family, after all. She mentioned that Blake would be having you stand as his best man. So I, of course, contacted him directly to offer my congratulations.”
“Oh.”
Best man. Cade shifted, trying to adjust the fit of his shirt as it suddenly seemed to be squeezing his shoulders. Why was Blake even thinking about getting married? The guy was crazy.
“Oh, indeed. Now you can go brew me more tea while you consider why you are so surly.”
Surly?
Cade bit back the response, offering a genial smile and nod instead and taking the teacup and empty-except-for-his-confiscated-crumbs cookie plate with him to the kitchen.
He didn’t need the five minutes it took to boil water and pour it over a pile of dried flowers to know what had him on edge.
Everything was wrong. His edgy, exciting life—the one he’d dreamed of and planned for and, dammit, loved—just wasn’t anymore.
Wasn’t exciting.
Wasn’t what he’d dreamed.
Wasn’t what he loved.
Everything had changed.
Now Blake was changing, too. Getting married, for God’s sake. Why? Sure, Alexia was hot. Funny and smart and perfect for the Boy Scout. But it wasn’t like she was holding out for a ring. Maybe it was because her father was an admiral, and could make Blake’s life hell.
That had to be it. Why else would a guy, a SEAL, put himself or anyone else through the insanity that went hand in hand with being married to special ops?
There. That’s why he was surly.
Because his life was off track, out of whack and his best friend was making a huge mistake.
Nothing a little time wouldn’t fix.
Then he glanced out his grandmother’s kitchen window.
Eden.
This wasn’t surly he was fighting.
It was horny.
Even from this distance, the sight of her lithe body sent a wakeup call to his libido.
He warned his body to stand down. Talk about marriage material. Eden practically had “I Do” stamped over her head. Not because she seemed like she was interested in the wedding ordeal. But because the town would expect it. His grandmother, if s
he thought there was something between him and Eden, would totter right out to her greenhouse and start gathering lilies for the ceremony.
He winced when the goat butted Eden, using enough force to send her sideways. Surprisingly, for a girl prone to accidents, she didn’t lose her footing. Instead, she turned and threw her arms around the goat’s neck for a hug. She was too far away to hear but Cade could imagine her gurgling laughter as she played with the animals.
Damn, she was something.
He sighed.
If he left before the loan was settled for his father, Robert would start foreclosure action faster than the bank. Eden would lose everything. And Catherine would smack him upside the head.
If he stuck around, he didn’t think he could resist Eden. Not for long. Not after tasting her. Feeling her. Hearing the noises she made when she came, saw how she responded to sex. How would she look when he got her completely naked? Would she be as demanding and assertive when she touched him as she had been with herself?
What did her nipples taste like? How did it feel to slide inside her body? Did she like it on top? On bottom?
She bent over to scoop up the dogs’ ball.
He groaned.
Did she like it from behind?
Realizing he was hard and horny in his grandmother’s kitchen, Cade groaned and forced himself to turn away from the window.
Tea. Cookies. Torture.
He had to get the hell out of here.
Unable to resist, he looked at Eden again. The dogs romped while she watched, one arm draped affectionately over the goat.
And maybe he’d just figured out how to escape.
Knowing better than to get cocky, because plans had a way of being shot to hell, Cade still felt pretty confident when he strode into the sitting room.
“Grandmother,” he asked, offering her tea and a fresh plate of shortbread. “Have you ever considered getting a pet?”
