Page 79 of Luck Be Mine
The darkness at three a.m. soothed Cait’s aching head, and the sweet aroma of summer flowers from her gardens relaxed her entire body. Quaid was right. She was pushing herself too hard.
She could turn off her emotions to a certain extent. But it wasn’t uncommon to hit a coping wall, and she came home to bake, cook, garden, draw, and have lots of sex with her husband when he was home.
She also sat on her front porch in the middle of the night.
Too much worry about a husband gone dark in a dangerous world multiplied her stress. She pretended there, too, and ignored processing all those emotions, if she could. The results came in anxiety and bad dreams leading to broken sleep.
Hunt had texted their letter code once. As of two days ago, he was all right. The news gave her some comfort.
On her oasis porch with the red gingham cushions in the chairs, the welcome home wreath on the door, and the sweet smell of fresh mowed grass, Cait searched for stars. No matter when the night came, she could find safe harbor sitting on these steps with the wide wood planks and looking out into a neighborhood they’d claimed as their own three years ago.
We Go Home.
She didn’t have to say much to Hunt about this house for him to jump into ownership with her. She’d been prepped to remind him what she wanted, but he had a list of his own.
A place for her when he was gone. Check.
A place for him to call home. Check.
A place for their version of “us” to thrive as much as it could with them both going different directions. Check.
While there wasn’t a dog or an iguana or kids, the house had everything else.
The quiet neighborhood ambience broke with an engine sound coming down the block. Somebody coming home late. She listened carefully to the engine.
Her heart skipped a beat.
On tiptoes, she tried to see over Frank’s hedge. No view.
A familiar silver truck passed the bushes and swung into their driveway.
Husband. Home.
Her heart soared to triple time, worry releasing, and love leaking from her eyes. “The man never tells me when he lands.”
Swiping away the tears, she danced off the porch and skipped through the grass, delighting in the surprise on her husband’s face. Oh, he would grill her until she confessed why she’d been on the porch in the dead of night, but him in her arms right now welled into a desperate need.
The door opened with the ease of a well-cared-for truck, and he slid out, his arms open to scoop her up. “Hey, Doc,” he grinned.
She jumped and wrapped her legs around him. He pulled her tight, never letting her touch the ground.
“Why didn’t you call me?” She cupped his face, giving him no chance to answer, and pressed her mouth to his. Urgency roared at her. His mouth hard against her lips, he slid his tongue against hers, stroking like days and days of this wouldn’t be enough. The last-minute call to go outside the wire had left them without the usual goodbye kiss.
“Oh, God, I missed you.” She shifted the angle of her mouth and tasted him again, breathing in his masculine scent, and reveling in his warmth.
“I missed you, too. Before you ask, I’m fine. We had one injury, but he’s going to be okay,” he murmured against her mouth.
She pulled back, concern, fear, and outrage spreading like dye in water. “Who?”
“Stemmons. Leg, shoulder. Got him right to the surgeon. All is well.”
She squinted at him. She knew better than to ask, but wanted to. Instinct pushed her to question, dissect, resolve. Instead, she swallowed the irritation of being out of the loop and set it aside. She wasn’t the man’s doctor – and the SEAL Teams had good ones.
“You sure?”
“Yes.” He swooped in for another kiss.
Letting it go had never been harder. She caught the blank look in his eyes and dropped it. “I want in your space as fast as possible.”
