Striker washed his hands and went in search of Aine. He found her sitting on the deck, looking out at the ocean.

“Whatcha’ thinkin’ about?”

She turned, smiled at him, and her cheeks turned the prettiest shade of pink he’d ever seen. “How nice it is that you’re here.”

“No place I’d rather be.”

“Not missing your family?”

“No. My family…”

“You haven’t said much about them.”

Striker sat down next to her and pulled her over to his lap. “As you well know, families come with good and bad. I didn’t get much good.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

He interrupted her apology with a kiss, and then rested his forehead against hers. “Like I said, there’s no place I’d rather be.”

“Me too.”

“By the way, where’s your mom?”

“Still at the inn. Peggy doesn’t cook.”

Striker laughed. “Enough said. I think there are too many cooks in those kitchens anyway.”

“I’m not a great cook either.”

“I bet you just say that. I remember some pretty good peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. You’re probably a great cook.”

Aine laughed. “I think you made them. And, no, I’m terrible. Ava will attest that I should never be allowed in a kitchen. I just offered to help chop the onions to be nice.” Her cheeks turned pink again.

“You don’t have any idea how pretty you are, do you?”

She put her head on his shoulder. “Thank you,” he heard her murmur.

“Aine, I…”

When he didn’t continue, she looked up at him. “What?”

“Never mind. I forgot what I was going to say.”

She nodded. “You’re lying, but that’s okay.”

He laughed. “I’m just really happy to be here with you. I feel like I’ve said it too many times.”

“You never have to apologize for saying you’re happy to be with me, Griffin.”

“I need to ask you something, though.”

Her eyes were still focused on his. “Okay.”

“We really haven’t talked about it, and we should have, before now, before I got here earlier in the week.”

“Are you about to tell me that your real name isn’t Griffin Ellis?”

“No. Why would you think that?”

Aine laughed. “Earlier when Ava and I were talking to Zary, Ava said all three of us deserve to be happy. We deserve to feel loved and safe. And I added that we deserve to be with men who tell us their real names. I was kidding. Sort of. I mean, my dad…”

“I get it and I agree. You deserve to be happy.”

“What did you want to talk about?”

Striker moved her from his lap back to the chair she’d been sitting in.

“You’re worrying me,” she murmured.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that…I’m a lot older than you are, Aine.”

“Oh. Well…um…okay.”

He leaned forward and took her hands in his. “This isn’t about you. You’re perfect. I just want to be sure you realize I’m a few years older than Razor.” Aine looked like she was going to cry. Damn, he was making a mess of this.

“Does it matter? I mean, am I too…inexperienced for you?”

“God, no. It’s more that I started wondering if you knew. And if you didn’t, if it would bother you.”

“I like you, Griffin. I don’t care how old you are. It isn’t something I’ve given any thought to because, to me, all that matters is that we enjoy being together.”

“I just want you to know, if you change your mind, I’ll understand.”

She was quiet long enough that Striker began to feel uncomfortable. Plus, she wasn’t looking at him; she was looking out at the ocean again.

“I wish you’d tell me what you’re thinking.”

She turned back and looked at him. “I wish you wouldn’t let me go so easily.”

“I just want to be sure you’re sure. Does that make any sense?”

Aine stood and walked into the house, but he didn’t follow. Somehow their conversation had gone from bad to worse, and he had no idea what to do about it.

Aine left Gunner’s and walked next door. “Is Ava over here?” she asked.

“I think she’s upstairs,” Razor’s mother told her.

She took the stairs two at a time, hoping she’d get up them quickly enough that no one would see her crying.

“Ava?” she said when she got to the bedroom door. “Are you in there?”

The door opened a few seconds later, and two young girls came bounding out.

“Hi,” they said in unison. “You’re Aunt Ava’s sister.”

Aine wiped her tears and bent down. “I am. How are you?”

“We’re fine. Anyway, bye,” the older of the two said.

Off they went, running down the stairs she’d just come up.

Aine crossed the room and lay on the bed next to her sister.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just had the weirdest conversation with Griffin.”

“Tell me what he said.”

“He wanted me to know that he’s a lot older than I am.”

“Okay, so…why?”

“I don’t know. I told him it didn’t bother me, and then he said that if I changed my mind, he’d understand.”

“Hmm. That’s weird.”

“That’s what I thought. Do you think he’s trying to dump me?”

“No. Definitely not. It’s gotta be something he’s worried about, even if you’re not. What else did he say?”

“Not much.”

“What did you say?”

“That I wished he wouldn’t let me go so easily.”

Ava was thoughtful for a minute. “It’s his problem, Aine. It isn’t about you. Maybe someone dumped him in the past because of it.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. It kind of seemed like he was giving me an out.”

“When is he supposed to leave?”

“We were talking about leaving tomorrow and driving up the coast.”

“To where?”

“Yachats.”

“Wow. That sounds nice. I say, see how that goes. If it’s weird, then you know.”

“Here are my girls,” said their mom, coming in the bedroom door. “What are you talking about?”

“Striker told Aine he thinks he’s too old for her.”

“Ava!” Aine swatted her. “That isn’t what he said.”

“Men.” Their mother shook her head. “You never know what’s going to set them off. I mean, look at Paul. He finds out my ex-husband is a Russian mobster, and he asks for a divorce.”

“Right.” Aine didn’t think what Griffin said to her had anything to do with her mom’s soon-to-be ex-husband, but that’s how Peggy was. How do you give counsel to a daughter you never spent any time with? At least she wasn’t drinking anymore. Or it didn’t seem like she was.

“Thanks, Mom,” she said and got off the bed.

“Oh. I came to tell you we’ll be eating in forty-five minutes.”

Aine helped her sister off the bed too, and they followed their mother down the stairs.

“Where’s Striker?” Ava asked.

Razor stepped closer to them. “He went to pick up Dutch and Alegria from the train station. He said to let you know he’ll be back in thirty.”

“Why are you whispering?” Aine asked.

He motioned with his head toward Mantis, who was standing on the other side of the room.

“He doesn’t know they’re coming.”

“Oh. I’m lost, but that’s okay. I’ve got enough drama of my own.”

Razor’s head snapped up. “What did Striker do?”

Aine patted his arm. “Nothing. He’s just worried that he’s too old for me.”

“Oh. Well…he is.”

She and Ava laughed when Razor walked away.

“Thanks for the lift,” said Dutch, opening the car door for Alegria.

“No problem. Although I didn’t realize how tight the back seat was.”

“Not a problem,” said Dutch, folding himself into a seat made for someone a quarter of his size.

“How are you doing?” he asked Alegria when she sat in the front seat.

“Okay. The pain meds should kick in soon.”

“Taking the train wasn’t the best idea. We should’ve just driven,” Dutch said from where he sat sideways in the back.

These two looked as miserable as Striker felt after his conversation with Aine.

“The house isn’t too far from here.”

“We’ve been there,” Alegria told him. Snapped at him was more accurate.

“Alegria,” Dutch murmured from the back seat.

Striker looked over, unable to read anything but tension on her face. Despite the fact they’d been on many missions together, he didn’t know the woman that well.

She, Dutch, and Mantis were all former Air Force officers, a branch of the military that got plenty of ribbing for being the pampered set.

The truth was, Alegria and Mantis had flown sorties resulting in the deaths of some of the worst terrorists in the world, and those missions hadn’t been danger-free.

Striker had a hell of a lot of respect for the men and women who flew any kind of fighter jet, regardless of military branch.

Onyx, the only other pilot on the K19 team, had served in the Marine Corps like most of the partners had, flying F/A 18 Hornets. While those planes were being replaced by the Lightning II, F-35 Joint Strike Fighter, the Hornets had long provided fighter escort, enemy defenses suppression, air control, reconnaissance, and close air support of Marines on the ground.

K19 was mighty lucky to have all three of them on their team.

The drive back to Cambria was quiet since neither Alegria nor Dutch seemed to be in the mood to talk. Striker didn’t mind, though. It gave him time to think about what he’d said to Aine.

He’d wanted her to be aware of his age, given he was fifteen years her senior. That was it. If she ever decided she didn’t want to spend her time with an old fart, he wanted her to know that he’d understand. That had somehow turned into her asking if she was too inexperienced for him.

Their first night together had been magical as far as he was concerned. That she would think it was anything less than that, baffled him.

They were seated at the table in the front window of the Sea Chest, so they could look out at the moon’s light on the ocean while they ate.

“This place is fantastic,” he said between bites of the freshest halibut he’d ever eaten.

“I agree, but I’m so full I can’t finish.”

They’d started out with a dozen oysters, followed by clam chowder, sourdough bread, and their entrées.

Aine ordered a calamari steak served abalone-style, which Striker was all too happy to finish for her.

“Cheers,” he said, toasting her with a twenty-year tawny port. “Here’s to many more dinners shared by the light of the moon.”

Aine looked out at the ocean; something she did a lot, he’d noticed. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

She looked back at him.

“I’m not sure how to say this.”

“We’ve talked for hours, pretty girl. Just say it.”

“I haven’t been with very many men,” she said almost too quietly for him to hear her.

Striker leaned forward, grasped her neck with his hand, and kissed her. “Whatever has or hasn’t happened in either of our pasts, doesn’t matter, Aine. This is just me and you. Okay?”

He draped his arm around her shoulders on their walk back to the inn. Every once in a while, he’d stop and hold her close while he brushed his lips with hers, and then kissed her the way he’d wished he could every time they’d talked on the phone.

“Here you are, in my arms,” he said when they got back to the inn. “Do you know how many nights I’ve wished we were holding each other just like this?”

“It’s been the same for me. I fall asleep imagining your arms are around me.”

“Wasn’t that the turn?” Alegria asked, pointing at the road he’d just driven past.

He’d been so lost in thought, remembering the first night he and Aine were together, he might’ve driven all the way to San Simeon before he realized it.

He took the next left turn, which also went to Moonstone Beach Road.

“Sorry,” he murmured, but he wasn’t. Being away from the house had given him time to think, and he’d come to a decision. Aine McNamara was his dream come true, and he’d heard what she said earlier: I wish you wouldn’t let me go so easily.

If that’s the way she felt, then he would wrestle the devil himself to keep her in his life.

Instead of worrying about whether Aine thought he was too old for her, he was going to appreciate every minute he could spend with her.

He had a hell of a lot to be thankful for this year, and she was at the top of the list. It was time he let her know that, instead of giving her an out she hadn’t asked for.

“Is there anything else I can do to help?” Mantis asked.

“I think we’ve got everything. As soon as Razor and Gunner finish carving the turkeys, we’ll be set,” said Gunner’s mother.

“Griffin isn’t back yet,” Aine murmured, carrying a bowl of mashed potatoes out to the table that had been set up as a buffet.

“He just pulled through the gate,” Razor told her.

Aine set the potatoes down and hurried out the front door. She hated the way she’d walked away from him before he left, and she wanted him to know how sorry she was.

She bit her bottom lip as she watched him get out of the car and stalk straight over to her.

“Come with me,” he said, taking her hand. When they got around the side of the house, Griffin pushed her up against one of the big redwood trees. “Listen to me,” he said, his lips so close to hers, she could feel his breath. “I’m not letting you go. Easily or otherwise. I want you in my life, Aine, more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

“Not just in my bed. In my life.”

“I want that too, Griffin. I’m sorry I walked away from you.”

“Don’t do it again. Don’t ever walk away from me. Stay and talk it out. Tell me what you’re thinking, and I’ll do the same. If you aren’t sure what I mean, ask me.”

“I will. I promise.”

He held her face with his hand and kissed her hard.

“We’re waiting on you two,” they heard someone yell.

“Go ahead without us,” Griffin yelled back.

Aine giggled. “We should go in.”

“You’re right. The faster we eat, the faster we can be alone again.”

“I’m not that hungry, so it won’t take me long,” she confessed.

“Me neither. Not for Thanksgiving dinner, that is.”