For Love and Honor (11 page)

Chapter Two

A
FTER SEVERAL HOURS
and several slices of apple crumb pie à la mode, Aiden and his full stomach leaned back in the chair. He listened while Hazel and Ray Calhoun excitedly described how the senior center had contacted a new TV makeover show to try to put a better face on their small town and increase the tourism. Aiden couldn’t imagine why Hollywood would ever come this far south. It only mattered that the folks in this town and other small towns across America cared enough to try to make things better. These hard-working, generous-hearted people were the reason he, Billy, and Bobby had enlisted.

A dainty hand with clean, short nails settled over his shoulder. He looked up into the blue eyes he’d dreamed of on many a lonely night. A sudden jolt struck him in the center of his chest. Paige had always had a way of doing that to him. Even now when he knew the heart had been ripped out of him and he had nothing left to give.

“If y’all are done monopolizing the lieutenant’s time, I’d like to borrow him for a bit,” Paige said in a teasing drawl. “But only if that’s all right.”

“Oh pooh.” Gertie West wrinkled up her nose. “We were just getting to the good stuff.”

Aiden glanced out the front window where the sun hung low in the sky. As much as he’d like to, he couldn’t put off the conversation he and Paige needed to have any longer. It would be unfair to her and selfish of him.

He stood and pushed the chair back. “I really do need to get going.”

“You come back tomorrow, young man,” Ray Calhoun said. “We want to hear all about your adventures.”

Adventures.

Not exactly what he’d call them.

Wasn’t likely he’d discuss them either.

He gave the afternoon diners at the table a nod and turned toward Paige.

“Come with me.” She smiled wide enough to flash those pretty white teeth. “I have something I want to show you.”

“Your car or mine?”

She slipped her hand into his and tugged him toward the door. “How about for old time’s sake we take your truck?”

A sensual flood of memories he thought he’d buried long ago popped up fresh like a spring daisy. “Sun’s still shining.” He smiled and gave her hand a squeeze. “I think the population of Sweet might take offense to you whipping off that T-shirt.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” She grinned. “Now come on. We’re wasting daylight.”

As she tugged him through the gravel parking lot, he watched the way her hips swayed. Nothing outrageously obvious. Just a smooth motion that belied the passion lit deep in her core. He’d almost forgotten all the little idiosyncrasies she possessed. Like the way she lifted her arms toward the moon when she was on top of him, giving him the best sex of his life. Or the way she’d snuggle right against his side and drape her smooth leg over his hips. Or even the way she’d reach for him in her sleep, then sigh when she found him.

He’d carried those memories with him through boot camp. Through extensive Ranger training. Through numerous deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan. Then one day everything around him exploded. After that, he hadn’t allowed himself to think of the things that had made him happy. He didn’t deserve to be happy. Not when those closest to him—those he was supposed to protect—were no longer able to have happy thoughts.

Without hesitation, Paige climbed up into his truck and slid right to the middle where she’d always sat. When he moved onto the seat beside her, she grinned like someone had just handed her a present. His hand paused on the key in the ignition.

How the hell could he even consider breaking her heart?

He didn’t want to.

But it had to be done.

Chapter Three

P
AIGE TRIED TO
remain positive, though Aiden’s smile had once again disappeared. She knew the hell he’d been through from the stories his brother Ben had relayed. She knew she couldn’t expect him to just come home and they’d pick up where they’d left off. From the moment she’d heard the news that his duties had been served and he intended to leave the military, she’d made a vow that no matter what, she’d keep a smile on her face. For both of them. She’d see him through whatever demons he had to face. Because there had never been a doubt that she loved him with her whole heart. And nothing could ever take that away.

She leaned forward and turned up the radio while Keith Urban sang about days going by. “Hang a right on Dandelion Street.”

Aiden turned his head and looked at her with those deep brown eyes that made her think of the many wonderful nights she’d spent with him looking down at her while their bodies spoke the oldest language in the universe. “You moved?”

She nodded as the truck rambled down her street. “A little over a year ago.”

“You still have Cricket?” he asked of the border collie mix she’d rescued from the shelter.

“Of course. She’s still got a good amount of crazy going on, but age seems to have settled her down a bit.”

“Happens to the best of us, I guess.”

“Pull in there.” She pointed toward the long gravel driveway that invited visitors up to the gingerbread Victorian that sat behind a white picket fence.

Aiden ducked his head to get a better look through the windshield. “Isn’t this your Aunt Bertie’s place?”

“Was.” Paige reached down and grabbed her purse from the floorboard. “Aunt Bertie developed dementia and we had to put her in assisted care. She needed the money so I bought the place. Come on. I’ll show you around.”

“You bought this?” He got out of the truck and looked up at the two-story house. “On a waitress’s salary?”

“Shocking isn’t it?” While he stood there gawking, she walked around the front of the truck, took his hand, and led him toward the front door. “Actually, I bought it on the salary I make at Bud’s, plus the money I make doing taxes and accounting for a few local businesses. I make money from the apple orchard too.”

“Taxes?”

“Oooh.” She laughed at the sudden wrinkle between his eyes. “You look so surprised. I like that.”

“I do remember you skipped out on geometry class more than once and that you never liked math.”

“That was before I realized the benefits.” She turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. “I completed my bachelor’s via the Internet,” she explained. “I’m now the proud owner of a business administration degree. Got a gold tassel and everything.”

He stepped inside the foyer, gave a slow whistle, and rocked back on the heels of his worn cowboy boots. “You’re a very impressive woman, Paige Walker.”

“I know.” The praise made her smile. “But you’d better be careful because I have a whole bunch of
impressive
up my sleeve just waiting to be unleashed.”

He didn’t need to ask what she meant. He’d seen her
impressive
side before. She only hoped he’d want to see it again.

A glimmer lit up his eyes and hope warmed in her heart. She reached out, took his hand, and gave him the nickel tour of Honey Hill—named after the honeycrisp apples that grew in the orchard back between the barn and the creek. The place was way more than she needed right now. But she had big plans. Always the optimist, she’d purchased the oversized home. With
him
in mind.

L
ATER, ON THE
back veranda, Aiden lifted the chilled bottle of Sam Adams to his lips and drank. The beer tasted crisp and smooth. The phenomenal view of Paige’s backyard offered a lush landscape accented by rows and rows of apple trees laden with ripening fruit. Curled up at his feet lay Cricket, Paige’s brown-and-black-spotted border collie. While Paige had gone inside to throw together a meal for them to share, he and Cricket played fetch with a slobbered-up tennis ball. A heaving sigh lifted the dog’s broad chest. Apparently he’d worn her out, as now her breathing was deep and even. Not a single brown eyebrow or white paw twitched or moved.

On impulse he reached down and combed his fingers through her soft fur. When she looked up at him with those deep brown eyes, a fist grabbed hold of his heart and squeezed. He’d always thought of himself as a man who could handle anything. But lately his losses refused to lessen their grip on his conscience.

“Need a refill?” Paige asked as she came toward the wrought-iron patio set where he sat. Her hands balanced plates of plump, juicy pieces of barbecued chicken and a mountainous glob of potato salad.

He lifted the bottle. “I’m good.”

She set the plates down, and the aroma wafted up and tickled his appetite. “I don’t suppose there were many beers to be found in the Middle East.”

“Not really. Lots of sand to chew on, though.”

She flashed a quick smile as she sat down opposite him and handed him a fork and knife. Earlier at Bud’s he’d had a large helping of chicken-fried steak and several pieces of pie. Yet as the sweet honey flavor of the barbecue rolled across his tongue, he felt like a starving man.

“Good thing I cooked last night.” She sipped from her wine glass. “Or this would be carrot sticks and Goldfish crackers.”

“Didn’t you used to eat those all the time in high school?”

“Yep. They even make them in rainbow colors now.” She grinned. “You can have a different color for every meal.”

He laughed. “Only
you
could make a feast out of a baked cracker.”

“I can make a meal out of chocolate chip cookies too. Speaking of, did you get the packages I sent?”

“Yes. Thank you. I shared. Your oatmeal raisin cookies and the teriyaki jerky went over the best with the boys.” She took a bite of chicken then looked up with a glimmer of mischief in her blue eyes. “Good thing I checked the guidelines before I sent those girly magazines.”

“Yeah, totally against the rules.” He chuckled. “But definitely would have been appreciated.”

She reached across the table and snagged a chicken leg from the enormous portion on his plate.

“Hey. No fair stealing.”

A grin flashed just before her teeth sank into the meat and tore off a chunk.

“You think you can just pick up where you left off with swiping my food? You didn’t even wait this time till I wasn’t looking.”

“You never minded sharing and you know it.”

She was right. Unlike other girls, Paige had never been shy about taking what she wanted. She’d never been shy about eating in front of him. She’d never been shy about snatching a fry from his plate or even a bite of his cheeseburger. To his delight, on many occasions over the years, she had, in fact, turned eating into an erotic adventure.

Her tongue darted out to lick away a smear of sauce from her top lip, and his body went on full alert. During his deployments he fantasized about Paige. Her passion. The softness of her skin. The firmness of her breasts beneath his hands. The slick heat as he entered her body. During those long, lonely nights she’d become his dream girl. Sitting across from her now, watching her in the flesh, brought those fantasies back with a vengeance. Along with a sizeable erection.

For a moment they ate in silence. Then Paige set her fork down on her plate and folded her hands together. Because he knew her as well as he did, he predicted what she would say before the declarations were even out of her mouth. And like so many conversations they’d had in the past, he wanted to listen to every word. Not just to hear that sweet, sexy drawl, but because whatever she had to say was important.

“Aiden? I know you have a lot going on in your mind. I know you’ve been through more than most could ever even imagine. I won’t tell you I understand. I won’t say I know how you feel.”

She reached across the table and covered his hand with her own. The contrast was startling. Hers small and soft. His large and calloused. The compassion in the gesture stole his breath. He’d forgotten the power of a tender touch. A gentle moment. A quiet calm that soothed a soul.

“What I will tell you,” she continued, “is that I’m here for you. If you need to talk or even if you just need to sit and gaze out into the sky without a word. I’ll be right here.”

The pressure in his chest squeezed until he thought he might explode. She didn’t know what she was saying. He had too much to tell—most of which was ugly and tragic. She was a soft, sweet woman who didn’t need to hear all the hideous details of what he’d been through.

When you open yourself up to talk, it will help the nightmares go away.

The advice of his PTSD counselor sprang up inside his head. Before he could stomp it down, Aiden looked across the flicker of the votive candle into the eyes of the woman he’d known since she was a sprite in pigtails. He knew her. Trusted her. Believed she had a spine made of steel. And though he knew he had no business pulling her into his nightmare—knew he should just say what he’d come to say—if he wanted to talk to anyone about what had happened, Paige was the one.

“You sure about that?” he asked.

She gave him a slow nod.

In that moment, something greater than the fight-or-flee instinct took over. He took a long pull from his beer while the candlelight danced in her eyes. It wouldn’t change what he’d come to tell her, but maybe the time had come for him to release the claws of anguish that had dug into his soul. And the only person he could imagine sharing that information with was Paige.

Chapter Four

L
IKE THE SLOW
release of pressure from a tea kettle, Paige listened to Aiden explain what had happened in Afghanistan. As they strolled along the bank of the creek, he told her of the local people and their small villages, many who only desired to exist and wanted to help the American soldiers. He told her of the Taliban who wanted no part in making peace. He told her nightmarish tales of men, women, and children being executed in the streets for no reason. And then he told her of the ambush. Their intel had been sketchy. The terrain rugged. And on that day he’d watched his two best friends die.

“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.”

H
OW 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 him 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.