Page 75 of Impossible Love

“Is that another SEAL saying?”

“Baby, that’s Martha Stewart.”

He lifts me just enough to enter me, and I’m immediately flooded with sharp, intense pleasure. Another day with Cal, another round of bliss.

It only makes me want more.

Chapter 38

Cal

I’m watching yet another sunrise with Victoria in my arms.

It’s not from a Penthouse soaking tub overlooking the San Francisco Bay. This time, it’s from the overstuffed lounger on my back deck with a view of the rugged face of Mt. Grant. Instead of being up to our chins in warm water, we’re snuggled inside a vintage Pendleton blanket. And Ripley and Sarah Connor are curled up on their outside dog beds, snoring.

But some things are the same.

She still feels perfect in my arms. My body is once again humming with the mellow satisfaction of another long, adventurous night in bed. I bury my nose in her hair and inhale that familiar scent of citrus and flowers.

We don’t say much at first. We just appreciate the signs that the ranch is coming to life for another day. We hear the kingfishers, quails, and cicadas. A large red-tailed hawk catches a thermal and rides it over the barn, corrals, and outdoor rings. A hummingbird buzzes along the deck railing, then inches closer. I feel Victoria tense in my embrace.

“It’s harmless,” I whisper, not moving a muscle.

“I know,” she whispers back. “I just don’t want to scare it.”

The bird seems curious about us and comes even closer. Its head is a startling shade of purple. The feathers on its body are neon green, blue, and orange. Its wings are a blur as it hovers like that for a few seconds, then edges even closer, nearly buzzing Victoria’s hair. It must be the bright color or the floral smell, both things hummingbirds are attracted to.

Same here, little friend.

It buzzes away, zooming past the poplars and over the roof.

“Wow,” Victoria says. “She was beautiful. So delicate.”

“Did you know that in many cultures, hummingbirds are symbols of joy, beauty, and lightness of being?”

Her back relaxes against my chest. “I’ve heard that. But you forgot love. It’s a symbol of that, too.”

I chuckle. I hadn’t forgotten—I’d just made a point of not including that part of the hummingbird lore. And here we are, anyway.

The word hangs in the air around us.

“Has that ever happened to you, Cal? Have you ever been in love?”

“I think I came close once. Maybe with more time I would’ve gotten there.”

“What happened?”

“The SEALs happened, Victoria.” I’m usually not much of a talker when it comes to this subject, so it’s a surprise that I’m so quick to answer her. “It’s damn near impossible to be in a relationship with someone when you’re active duty. It puts a lot of stress on the other party.”

“I can imagine. So how did you know you weren’t in love?”

It’s an interesting question, and one I’m not sure I’ve ever asked myself. “It was either her or the mission, and I chose the mission. That was my first clue.”

“Ah. What’s your mission these days?”

I tighten my arms around her, smiling into her hair. “You’re looking at it, babe. This place. These people. Our history. Our future. That’s my mission. It will always be my mission.”

She pushes up on my thighs and spins around to face me. The blanket slips from her shoulders and I forget to breathe. Her skin is pale and fine, fragile looking in the morning light. Her lips are curled in a half-smile and her eyelids are heavy. A thick fall of auburn hair brushes against her face and covers the top of a creamy white breast.

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