Page 68 of The Soldier

Glad you’re home, toy soldier. That was amazing. See you around.

See me around?

The fuck?

What does she think just happened? Because despite popular belief, I don’t go licking just anyone’s pussy.

Okay, yes I’ve licked a few.

Not the point.

I choose wisely and only lick... This is not how I saw this line of thought going.

What I’m trying to get across is I might not be married—heck, I might not be dating anyone—but Ihavedated a few women. I don’t just sleep with them.

I’ve not fucked as many as people think.

Since leaving the military none of my relationships have turned into anything serious. One, while I was still on active dutyabout five years ago, seemed to be heading in that direction. We moved in together but after six weeks, we knew it was a mistake.

I flirt.

I love flirting.

Women are awesome. Bantering with them is my sport, but I’m fussy about who I sleep with. Or date. That’s what I’m trying to say.

Trina is mine. This is not over, and I won’t fuckingsee her around.I am going to hunt her down and we are going to play hide the damn sausage again.

And again.

Until she looks at me with those wild blue eyes and admits to herself and to me that this is more than just a fierce attraction.

She cared that I was gone and had been injured. And I thought about her almost every fucking minute of every day while I was gone. Perhaps not when there was live fire, but a lot.

That means something.

She can’t ignore it because she has some dating rule. I’m going to force her to explain her aversion to military men. Also, I’m not fucking enlisted.

I won’t be going back in the field for a few months with this injury away, so if things turn serious between us then I’ll speak to Josh.

I need to anyway.

Being back in the desert was a reminder that it’s not where I want to be anymore. I left to pursue a different path, and it just felt like I was going backward. I appreciate that Josh and Aidan want to step away because of their women, but I’m not the man for the job. They’ll have to recruit someone.

My mind wanders back to the operation in Kuwait. When I left, Rodriques said he would be reporting Miller, which didn’t surprise me.

I mean, Jesus, he was drinking while on a mission? What the fuck was the guy thinking? He could have got us all killed.

He nearly gotmekilled.

I should’ve taken a clean shot from the hill instead of a high-speed car chase across the desert to take down the target and being fucking shot.

The bullet wound in my arm is an indirect result of Miller’s behavior. I mean, fuck, had it been a few inches to the right, it would’ve been so much more serious.

I could have bled out and died.

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THE NEXT DAY, after sleeping almost the entire day before, I shower, rebandage my arm, and then dress. After a lazy breakfast, I toss back my antibiotics and head down to the garage.

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