Home Sweet Home: A Sweet, Texas Novella (3 page)

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. But she’d wait to drop that little surprise. The man was edgy enough. No need to make him put on his running shoes.

“Looks like neither you nor your sister mind putting in a lot of hard work,” he said.

“Oh … you know. A girl’s got to have something to do to keep her out of trouble. Actually, Faith is the one who talked me into buying it. And not only to help out a relative.” Paige led him through the dining room and into the kitchen. “Over a bottle of chardonnay, she started tossing out ideas that sounded reasonable and appealing.”

She chuckled. “That’s probably the last time I’ll listen to her when she’s been tipping a wineglass.”

“What’s your sister up to these days?”

“She’s back home in Sweet now. Gave up the medical career to become an entrepreneur. When our uncle Charles passed, he left his property to Faith. Since then, she’s put in a ton of work and turned that run-down cattle ranch into a guest ranch. She’s got it operating almost full-time now, with a pool, hot tub, and guesthouses.”

“That is ambitious.”

“I know. I hardly see her anymore. But she loves it. So she decided I should have the same love affair with Honey Hill.” She opened the refrigerator door. “Beer or sweet tea?”

The look he passed her way her gave Paige the feeling he’d run, given the chance.

Why, she wasn’t certain. She’d tried to be careful with what she said, and he should know by now she was the last person he needed to be cautious with. But from the moment he’d walked through the door at Bud’s, a look of hesitation had shadowed his eyes.

Maybe he was still tired from the trip home. Or all the troubles poking at his brain. Or the weight of the losses he’d suffered. Maybe all he really needed was to sit back and relax a little. Kick his feet up and unwind. Or maybe all he really needed was a few hot hours between the sheets. Whatever he needed, she’d be happy to provide.

“I shouldn’t have either.” He glanced at the door. “I should … probably go.”

“Nonsense. You just got here.” Because he suddenly appeared even more uneasy, she made the decision for him. Reaching into the refrigerator, she grabbed a bottle of Shiner Bock Ale, popped the cap, and smiled as their fingers met over the cold amber glass as she handed him the bottle. “Besides, you look like you could use a friend. You hungry?”

“After everything I ate at Bud’s, I shouldn’t think about eating for a week.”

“But you’ve always had a healthy appetite.”

“You get used to eating less when you’re in the military. And you learn to eat fast before some hungry guy snatches away your plate. Bobby used to do that all the time.” A wobbly smile tilted his lips, and a low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “He’d point and say something stupid like, ‘Look, there’s Mickey Mouse,’ and I’d fall for it every time. Next thing I knew, I’d be picking the crumbs from my plate so I didn’t starve.”

He took a sip from the bottle, and Paige watched his throat work as he swallowed. She hoped in time he’d be able to remember the good times more. She hoped he’d think of his friends and be able to smile without its hurting so much. But she figured those days were a long way off. Right now, maybe being able to relax a little might be just the medicine he needed.

When it came to Aiden, she’d give her all. Her best. Hopefully, in the end, he’d realize that she’d waited a very long time for him for a reason.

They belonged together.

No matter what life threw in their paths, they could make it through as long as they had each other.

LATER, ON THE back veranda, Aiden lifted a chilled bottle of Shiner to his lips and drank. The beer tasted crisp and smooth. He hadn’t been treated to a home-state brew in a long time and was enjoying every single ounce. Paige’s gigantic backyard offered a phenomenal view of 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 border collie. While Paige had gone inside to throw together a meal for them to share, he and Cricket had played fetch with a slobbered-up tennis ball.

A heaving sigh now lifted the dog’s broad chest. Apparently, he’d worn her out, as her breathing had become deep and even. Not a single brown eyebrow or white paw even twitched.

On impulse, he reached down and combed his fingers through her soft fur. When she looked up at him with those deep brown trusting 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. And that kept his heart in a constant state of misery.

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

“Thanks.” 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 delved into a juicy Diablo burger and apple pie so sweet it zinged his teeth. Yet as the tangy honey flavor of Paige’s barbecue rolled across his tongue, he felt like a starving man.

“Good thing I cooked last night.” She sipped from her wineglass. “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. Especially when everything you see over there is camo or brown.”

“Brown?”

“Brown dirt. Brown sky. Brown sand. Brown structures.”

“Ah. Sounds lovely.” 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. And he hadn’t minded that at all.

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’d 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.

She was the only girl he’d ever loved. The only girl he’d ever made love to. And during those long, lonely nights, she’d become his dream girl. Sitting across from her now, watching her in the flesh brought all those fantasies back. His fingers tingled to touch her. Deep down in his groin, he ached to sink into her and revel in that closeness they’d built. Not just for the sexual release although he wouldn’t mind that either. But whenever they’d been together, it had been special.

For a moment, they ate in silence. But throughout the whole cricket-chirping time, his mind shouted at him and tried to get him to change his mind about telling her good-bye.

Then she 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 for that sweet, sexy drawl, but because whatever she had to say was important.

Even if he might not want to hear it.

“Aiden? I can see by the look in your eyes that you have a lot going on in your mind. I know you’ve been through more than most people could ever even imagine. I won’t tell you I understand. I won’t lie and 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 callused.

The compassion in the simple 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.

Still, he knew he had no business pulling her into his nightmare. Knew he should just say what he’d come to say and get the hell out of there. Let her go on with her life. He’d hesitated for too long now as it was.

“You sure about that?” he asked.

She gave him a slow, steady nod.

In that moment, something greater than the fight-or-flight instinct took over. While candlelight danced in her blue eyes, he took a long pull from his beer.

Maybe the time had come for him to release the claws of anguish that had dug into his soul. It wouldn’t change what he’d come to tell her. Wouldn’t change the outcome. But the only person he could imagine sharing his story with was Paige.

And for that, he should just call himself a selfish bastard.

LIKE THE SLOW release of pressure from a teakettle, Paige listened to Aiden explain the events that had taken place in Afghanistan. As they strolled along the bank of the creek behind her house, he told her of the local people and their small villages, of the 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 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 downtime. 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,” 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. Guess he figured it wouldn’t hurt anything to let me keep him. 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.”