THE WATCHERS: 6 Military Romance Bundle

by Kristina Weaver

  “Dated? You call those dates? It was like having my legs shaved with a machete. By a serial killer!” Cleo snarls, slamming her hand down on the counter. “Now, I suggest you get your hand off my man.”

  I didn’t mention that she stepped back and put her hand on my arm as if I would defend her. Well, she did. And from the looks of Cleo, she didn’t miss the flirting as we walked in either.

  “Your man?” she titters. “Honey, you can’t handle a man like this. Why don’t you run on back to your little hidey hole and leave him to a woman like me, a woman who knows how to handle all this raw strength.”

  That just about does it, and I step back and out of reach as my little lion vaults over the counter—not entirely gracefully, but she is wearing a skirt and heels after all—and grabs the redhead by her fake roots.

  “You? You’re nothing but a-a-a loose hipped hussy! Jericho appreciates class and beauty and not…not crabs and lips that are so overfilled you look like a fish.”

  The yelling gets louder as she starts dragging her to the door, and I grunt a laugh when King jumps to it and opens it for Cleo to fling Ginger out on her ass.

  “Stay away from me; stay away from my man—mine! Do you hear me? And keep your filthy mouth shut about me, or I will creep into your shitty little hovel and beat the shit out of you.”

  She dusts her hands as if done with the filth, turns on her heel, and calmly saunters back to her workstation with all the regal flair of a queen.

  “Uh, babe?”

  “Not now, Jericho honey, I’m basking in my glory.”

  And off she goes again, this time humming beneath her breath as King and I stare at her in stunned adoration.

  “I was wrong, nasty Cleo is so much hotter than the sweet version,” King whispers.

  “Ah? You should see how nasty that little vixen can get between the sheets, my man.”

  “Christ, why doesn’t she have a sister, man?”

  Another Cleo running around out there discovering her power?

  “Let the world survive this one first, bro,” I say with a chuckle, sauntering off after her for a little nookie in the stacks.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cleo

  “What? But you said it only might mess with my shot, you didn’t say it cancelled it out entirely,” I hiss at Lenny, as she gives me the results of the blood test she took two days ago.

  This is not good news because Jericho and I have been at each other like wild rabbits since Sunday and we haven’t once used protection. I am not okay with this at all, not at all since I have hardly had any time with him as it is, and now I could be facing motherhood and a whole different future from what I imagined.

  Jericho, of course, would be delighted by the chance to lock me down as he keeps threatening to do…but me...I want at least a year of us being just us before I even think about kids or getting fat and changing dirty diapers.

  “Oh honey, I did, and I wasn’t trying to mislead you. It’s just that everyone’s bodies work differently, and apparently with you that shot was a lot more potent. I took the very same one a few years back when I cut myself on a rusty fence, and it didn’t affect me that way,” Lenny says softly, patting my hand as if that’s all the comfort I need.

  Inside I am raging with fear and anger and nerves at the prospect of pregnancy. I like kids, love them, but I’m too young to give up my newly discovered lazy mornings and the luxury of doing nothing for whole minutes of my day.

  I like being free to just veg, as King calls it. If I want to watch TV, I do. If I want to take a nap, I do! I can’t do any of that if I have a baby. Babies require all of your time and energy. I just started focusing on myself. That sounds selfish, I know, but as the idiot who never sat still because someone else always needed a slave, I like having the luxury of only thinking of what I want to do.

  Jericho encourages me in this and seems to really enjoy my being a lay about. I like it. I don’t want to give it up. I whine silently, giving Lenny a pained look.

  “Look, maybe you’re still okay and nothing has happened yet.”

  “Doubtful. Jericho is mucho potent, girl, and he does not have a lazy bone in that muscled body. His sperm probably do sit-ups while they’re waiting for their turn out the gate.”

  She laughs at that, loudly, and starts slapping her knee in amused glee.

  “I need to Facebook that gem. Kelly will shit a brick when she hears this.”

  “Stop. It isn’t funny.”

  “No, ahem, no it isn’t,” she says somberly, sobering with difficulty. “You’re right. As I said, maybe it hasn’t happened yet. Just get some condoms and use them until your next period is due.”

  “And how should I do that? The man won’t let me wear a bra when we’re in the apartment because it takes away his right to see my boobs. I highly doubt he’d take kindly to having to suit up now that he knows what, what…”

  “What skinning it is like?” she asks helpfully, making me blush.

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, it’s like this, see. That is your body. It is your choice when and how you want to conceive a baby, and there isn’t a damn thing he can say to argue that point. Cleo, honey, do me a favor and just say what you feel without worrying about what I or anyone else with think. Just between us.”

  Tell someone my actual feelings? How can I? Look what happened with Ginger for goodness sake. I felt so good after yelling at her and tossing her out on her butt, and I continued to feel that way when Jericho gave me a good time behind the bookshelves and even into lunch.

  But when the men where on high alert, when the high school kids came in, I was left alone and it really sank in. I treated her like garbage, said the worst imaginable things to that woman, and it was wrong.

  This, this isn’t me. Sure, I don’t want to be a doormat and speaking my mind is great, as it should be, but being mean isn’t right and I felt terrible afterward.

  No matter what people say or do, no matter how liberating it is to have the power to say as I please, I am a turn the other cheek kind of girl and I always will be. It would have been no skin off my nose to tell Ginger that she hurt me and I didn’t want to see her again. Simple, easy, not horrible. What did I do? I went flame-on with her instead, and not even because I was hurt, but because she’d flirted with and touched Jericho.

  “Cleo.”

  “I-I don’t want kids now. Not right now when I just started feeling like my life is mine. Jericho, he…he seems to think that we should be together and do everything at the speed of light, while all I really want is time to get to know him and enjoy being with him.”

  Lenny smiles at me softly, and it’s then that I feel the comfort of her presence. She’s not judging me or telling me how selfish I am.

  “Good. Tell him that. You think I wanted to be pregnant this quick? Part of me was terrified, but it was already done and I love my baby. If I could have gone back to choose, though, I don’t know if I would be pregnant right now. Like you, I love my life with Storm, but now it’s as if we’re talking baby most of the time and preparing for the little tyke. Be strong, Cleo, and be and do what you need to. Talk to him. He’ll understand if you explain it.”

  I’m not so sure about that, but she is right and I take some strength from it. If Jericho really…I can’t say loves me because we haven’t said those words yet, but if he cares enough and really wants me, he’ll understand.

  “Thanks, Lenny.”

  “Sure, hon, that’s what friends are for. Now go talk to your man and get some condoms. Oh, and Cleo, if it does turn out that his soldiers stormed your battle field, I’m here as your shoulder.”

  I smile and rise to leave, my stomach dropping when Jericho comes over immediately to take my arm and lead me out. Everything—now that I’m not stuck in the bar—is a production. It’s checking the parking lot before I walk out and King and Jericho surrounding me while Smiley and Oak stand around with their guns looking menacing.

  “You okay?” he asks w
hen we’re in his truck.

  “Yeah. Just worried is all.”

  “Talk to me, Peaches.”

  “Umm, the thing is that the shot Lenny gave me wasn’t as nice to my birth control shot as it should have been,” I say haltingly, watching his face closely.

  “Okay. And that’s bad…?”

  “I want time for you and me before I start thinking about kids, Jericho. No, don’t get mad and look at me like I just rejected you, please. That’s not what I’m saying here. I want those things with you, I do, I just…”

  His face softens the slightest bit, and I breathe again when he smiles a little.

  “You want me all to yourself before we’re burping and having sleepless nights?”

  “Yes. I…if we’re going to lose sleep right now, I’d rather it be because…you know.”

  I’m still ninny enough to blush and get all sheepish even though when we’re doing it I swear I become a crazed animal. Jericho does smile fully then and I go all mushy inside at the soft look he gives me before cupping my cheek and giving me a tender kiss.

  “Peaches, we could wait ten years and I’d be okay with that as long as I know I have you. Forever. No take backs.”

  My giggle is all adoration and sighs as I look at him and say the words I know are coming too soon but can’t be held back any longer. He needs to know he has me; it’s just who he is. If he can’t say them back yet, that’s fine, because I know it will come eventually.

  “How can you not have me, Jericho? I freaking love you, soldier boy. Madly, deeply, enough that the grease and crowbar wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  “You do?”

  “Completely.”

  He grins and looks away, blinking rapidly before turning back and clearing his throat.

  “Love you too, Peach. A lot. Too soon, I know, but it was like lightning for me right from the start. So, no babies yet, I can deal. But we’re it. Now, about that house…”

  ***

  I’m so exhausted as I haul myself up the stairs and wave Jericho off, letting him know he can stay and talk to Josh about the stock. It’s been a long, long day what with the church ladies coming in just to sniff at me and pretend they had a reason for being there.

  I ignored it though and caught King and my man exchanging looks and maybe taking bets on how I would react. I think I disappointed them when all I did was ignore the old biddies and went on about my day, clearing the old book selections before scanning new ones for the lower grades and arranging the reading corner for tomorrow.

  One old coot, a newer member of the group since I couldn’t for the life of me remember her name, dropped a few colorful hisses at me that I heard just fine. I wanted to laugh when she got all worked up when I pretended not to hear.

  That made her try harder and by the time I looked at her, she was practically yelling at me. I was just fine. I didn’t smile or blush or say a thing, just stared her down.

  I think I did pretty darn well if I must say so myself, but imagine the spectacle when the high schoolers chose that moment to walk in and decided to give her what-for.

  Those kids sure do know a lot of very inventive cuss words, let me tell you, that and it soon got so heated that a laughing Jericho had to step in and get the kids settled before telling the ladies to choose books and make tracks, or just leave.

  They all left, the reverend’s wife not daring to glare at me when King narrowed his icy gray eyes on her and snarled beneath his breath. Then it was all about getting the kids their books, helping them with the old computer, and printing out so many sheets of information my hands turned gray and black from the ink.

  Now I’ve just gotten to the point I don’t think I could even find the energy for sex—a blasphemy for me because I love sex with Jericho. I’m also a little heart sore too.

  It’s been four weeks since my night with Jericho, and I’ve been cramping, a sure sign that I’m going to get my period. Now I know I don’t want a baby now, but I’ve been thinking a lot about it if it should happen, and I guess I was getting used to the idea enough that I was okay with it.

  Unlocking the door, I shuffle in and go straight for the bedroom, needing a shower, tea, and then bed in that order. The shower is a long one, even though I am dead on my feet, because the man went all out with those fancy showerheads that massage and make me feel like putty afterward.

  I’m in bed, tea steaming as I blow into my cup when he saunters in with a tired smile, stripping down and crawling in beside me with a groan.

  “No wonder you’re tired. I never knew your job could be so physical.”

  “Yeah, well I’m used to it. It was the other part of my day that blew the wind right out of my sails,” I mumble around the cup, closing my eyes as the soothing tea warms me.

  “Peaches, you know I adore you and I wish I could say that I’m okay with what happened today, but the truth is I’m not. This won’t ever end, not with your father still shunning you and refusing to talk to you. I can’t see myself going off for work at any time, knowing that I’m leaving you to face that firing squad whenever they know I’m not around. Hell, I was there and it didn’t stop half of them from sneering at you.”

  True that. I understand where he’s coming from. That was mild. If I’d been alone, I can guarantee they’d have torn me apart like a pack of hyenas at a day-old carcass.

  “I know honey, but I like my job and I can’t just stop doing what I love because some people don’t like me. I have never understood it and I probably never will. They just don’t, no matter what I do. It’s not going to change. I have changed; enough that I don’t keep it inside or let it eat at my confidence anymore. That will have to be enough.”

  I hear his sigh and hate disappointing him, but I can’t see myself leaving and doing something else. I love the moody, snarling high schoolers and the way they need me. I like that they like me even though their idea of a compliment is “Boy, Miss D, you don’t blow so much anymore.”

  “What is it about the job you like so much?”

  I shrug as I finish off my tea and blow out a breath, biting at my lip.

  “The kids mostly.”

  He grunts and I smack him playfully, giving him a look.

  “The high school kids at least. They need me. Another librarian wouldn’t care that they can’t pay for copies or printing. She’d keep the reference books away from them because, yeah, they aren’t too kind to those fellas, no matter what I say. I guess I like just knowing that they go there every day, or at least three times a week, because I make them feel welcome. They don’t get that at home or at school, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed this but some idiots in this place aren’t too nice to the less fortunate.”

  He grunts again, this time in contemplation and waits for me to put my cup on the bedside table and turn out the light before pulling me into his side and covering us both.

  “What if we made a whole computer section in part of that monstrous house we’re going to buy? You wouldn’t need the books and the kids would have a place to go?”

  That sounds reasonable, but still, I like the old library.

  “Can I think about it for a while?”

  “Sure, just so long as you know I won’t stop nagging if you say no.”

  “Brute.”

  “Peach.”

  “Hmm, love you, Evans. ‘Night.”

  “Love you too, baby.”

  I fall asleep with a smile on my face because I know he’d cave with whatever makes me happy. That’s part of why we got together so quickly. In his own way, Jericho is a people pleaser just like me. Thank God for me, and too bad for others, that the only “people” he likes is me.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cleo

  Thank God today is Saturday, I think as I roll over in bed and snuggle into Jericho’s pillow with a groan. The man is an early riser no matter what day it is.

  I can’t cuddle him in the morning unless I get it on with him and keep him distracted for a while or wake up at the c
rack of dawn to catch a snuggle.

  I, on the other hand, have become a complete sloth. Now that I don’t have to be up at five just to get my schedule sorted and completed for Daddy and the other townspeople, I can sleep till seven and still be on time for work.

  On the weekends, like today, I sleep until eight, no exceptions. The place could be burning down around me and I still wouldn’t move because the truth is I don’t have to, so why should I?

  This morning, however, as I stretch and groan in delight, I have to halt and groan in misery. My thighs are wet and my stomach feels like a bottlebrush crept in there and had a party in my uterus.

  When I pull back the covers to find my thighs and the sheets wet with blood, I am pathetically glad that Jericho left before seeing this. Stupid uterus, why are you even working right now? I don’t need you for another year at least.

  Getting to the bathroom is a labor of desperation and I just step out of the shower all clean and spiffy when it hits me that I have no products. Crap.

  Now usually I would put on dark pants, shove a wad of toilet paper on all relevant parts, and hoof it to the store. In and out as fast as my legs can carry me, but as it is, I have one option only.

  Darn it. This is so embarrassing. I’ve never told a soul about this time of the month, and I don’t know what to do. I’m in such a tizzy as I fall onto the toilet seat and drop my head into my hands that I don’t notice the door opening slowly.

  To make matters worse, I’m a heavy cramper. It hurts, really hurts, and I’m either going to need my pills to combat the pain or I’m liable to start screaming my head off soon.

  “Peaches?”

  Argh! The indignity.

  “Go away,” I groan, doubling over when I get a cramp and feel an ominous gush.

  Darn it, the towel is white!

  I feel him come closer and go down to his knees in front of me, his hands running through my tangled wet hair as he kisses my shoulder.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Jericho—”

  He sweeps me up into his arms before I can say another word, and I find myself struggling against him as embarrassment hits me.