relationship. Something he vowed to never enter in again. Betrayal is an excellent teacher. She may be one of the few good women he had run across in his adult years, but that didn't mean he wanted her for more than a few days. Hell, if she was as innocent as he thought, he really should keep his hands to himself. No sense in leading her on, sleeping with her, then riding off to his next assignment, leaving her like the Pilgrims left their homeland on their voyage to the New World, not looking back and never seeing their loved ones again. Lily deserved better. A committed husband to stand beside her and together raise a family. To give her the simple farm life she longed for.
He couldn't be that man. Wouldn't be that man. His life revolved around the Wind Warriors, fighting the baddest of the bad behind the scenes and in the dark, with only a handful of people knowing their existence. Men he would give his life for, as they would for him. That was his career and sole focus now and would continue to be. Wives and children were a cherished novelty and rare as a flood in the Sahara Desert. The nomadic group never settled in a single spot for long, dashing off immediately with the ring of a phone, having no set work hours or schedules, just whatever it took to get the job done. Their work, though necessary, often claimed their lives and their sanity. Hardened veterans, they saw and lived through too many things for any of them to retire to polite society. A normal job would never do for any of them. Instead, they thrived on adrenalin and challenge, constant change and seclusion.
All former military, they could return to those ranks if they were desperate enough and decided to swallow their independence and abilities in order to be puppets to whichever commander they would be stuck under. Insubordination and individual actions weren't part of the military life. But in Wind Warriors they could excel, having the clearance to do what they thought best with no questions asked. A flexibility that most men craved, a paycheck to compensate for all the inconveniences and hazard pay, along with access to all the newest and greatest weapons produced across the world.
What else could a man ask for?
Lily.
The kind of woman a man would give anything to come home to, stand in her arms, and soak up all the love and comfort she could provide. To spend the rest of their lives knowing that love did exist and they could share decades of exploring that love, reveling in it, and passing it on for future generations to be a part of.
With a heavy sigh, Cale trudged toward the house, filled with contradiction and indecision. No matter how much he lectured himself, he couldn't find an answer for the woman that stuck in his head like superglue.
Chapter 8
Stepping back into the house, Cale sniffed deeply, drawing in the scents of simmering stew and cornbread, along with a freshly baked blueberry pie, which sat on the countertop cooling from the oven. In the background, the washer and dryer cleaned clothes while the dishwasher hummed, polishing the dirty dishes from earlier meals. His stomach growled at the enticing aromas while something near his heart clenched in a sure feeling of rightness.
A man could get used to this.He certainly could. After years of survival on the run, coming home to dinner and a warm woman that loved him would be more than a dream. It would be paradise.
He shook off those thoughts, looking around for Lily. She sat on the couch, holding a stick with a piece of material attached, making it jump and dance as the kittens leaped and grabbed in obvious delight of play. A small grin popped out, not just from amusement watching the babies, but at seeing Lily finally relaxing, sitting instead of her usual dashing here and there through the house, doing one chore after another. No doubt about it. She worked hard.
"Where's Dillon?"
She looked up from her task. "On the phone with Della."
Anger shot to the fore. Dillon knew better.
He couldn't be that man. Wouldn't be that man. His life revolved around the Wind Warriors, fighting the baddest of the bad behind the scenes and in the dark, with only a handful of people knowing their existence. Men he would give his life for, as they would for him. That was his career and sole focus now and would continue to be. Wives and children were a cherished novelty and rare as a flood in the Sahara Desert. The nomadic group never settled in a single spot for long, dashing off immediately with the ring of a phone, having no set work hours or schedules, just whatever it took to get the job done. Their work, though necessary, often claimed their lives and their sanity. Hardened veterans, they saw and lived through too many things for any of them to retire to polite society. A normal job would never do for any of them. Instead, they thrived on adrenalin and challenge, constant change and seclusion.
All former military, they could return to those ranks if they were desperate enough and decided to swallow their independence and abilities in order to be puppets to whichever commander they would be stuck under. Insubordination and individual actions weren't part of the military life. But in Wind Warriors they could excel, having the clearance to do what they thought best with no questions asked. A flexibility that most men craved, a paycheck to compensate for all the inconveniences and hazard pay, along with access to all the newest and greatest weapons produced across the world.
What else could a man ask for?
Lily.
The kind of woman a man would give anything to come home to, stand in her arms, and soak up all the love and comfort she could provide. To spend the rest of their lives knowing that love did exist and they could share decades of exploring that love, reveling in it, and passing it on for future generations to be a part of.
With a heavy sigh, Cale trudged toward the house, filled with contradiction and indecision. No matter how much he lectured himself, he couldn't find an answer for the woman that stuck in his head like superglue.
Chapter 8
Stepping back into the house, Cale sniffed deeply, drawing in the scents of simmering stew and cornbread, along with a freshly baked blueberry pie, which sat on the countertop cooling from the oven. In the background, the washer and dryer cleaned clothes while the dishwasher hummed, polishing the dirty dishes from earlier meals. His stomach growled at the enticing aromas while something near his heart clenched in a sure feeling of rightness.
A man could get used to this.He certainly could. After years of survival on the run, coming home to dinner and a warm woman that loved him would be more than a dream. It would be paradise.
He shook off those thoughts, looking around for Lily. She sat on the couch, holding a stick with a piece of material attached, making it jump and dance as the kittens leaped and grabbed in obvious delight of play. A small grin popped out, not just from amusement watching the babies, but at seeing Lily finally relaxing, sitting instead of her usual dashing here and there through the house, doing one chore after another. No doubt about it. She worked hard.
"Where's Dillon?"
She looked up from her task. "On the phone with Della."
Anger shot to the fore. Dillon knew better.
Similar Books
