ADEN

The sun is setting by the time we get the boat back to the dock. It’s a mostly quiet ride except for the times I point out something I think Celia might find interesting—the lighthouse on Point Loma, Navy ships docked on Coronado Island, and the clusters of sunbathing sea lions on buoys.

The seagulls soar over our heads, their eyes downcast in search of fish scraps they can scavenge as they squawk every sailor’s welcoming song.

“Who’s Nancy?”

Celia’s no longer wearing the sunglasses, but the hat is still on, which is surprising with all that unruly hair fighting to get free from beneath it. “My aunt. Uncle Cal’s wife, he never talked about her?”

“Of course he did.” She adjusts the straps on her life vest. “I just . . . the boat is named after her, right?”

“Aunt Nancy is a good Catholic girl. She hated the name Nauti Nancy. They’d always fight about it.”

Her lips tip up warmly. “I can see why.”

“I’m surprised Cal didn’t tell you that story.” I head north toward the marina.

She dips her chin, but only slightly. “Yeah . . . maybe he did and I just didn’t remember.”

I steer the boat slowly through the inlet. “You mind throwing those bumpers over?” I motion to them and she hops up to play deckhand while I back into the slip and cut the engine. “Toss me the rope.” I jump over the railing to the dock. She tosses me one tie-up rope and I secure it to the cleat before following through with the others.

Not gonna lie, having a deckhand was helpful. Usually it’s Jenkins and he can’t really do more than sit with a fishing pole in one hand and a drink in the other.

When I come back on board she’s moving around the deck putting things away.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll get it.”

She ignores me and continues wiping everything down with a dirty rag. “No, it’s fine.”

I grab her forearm and her eyes come to mine. It must be because of the contrast against her sun-kissed cheeks, but her eyes appear even greener than they did this morning. “Stop. You’re sunburned, you should go shower and put some aloe on. I got this.”

She twists to see her shoulder. “Oh, yeah. That’s a good idea.”

Against my own will I release her and stand back to keep from pulling her in to my chest.

And what the hell is that all about, anyway?

A drunken kiss that leads to sex and an awkward goodbye is what I’m best at. But what happened today with Celia was totally unplanned. I knew going in for the kiss was risky, and I expected her to shoot me down. What I never expected was voracity. If she were anyone else I would’ve dragged her down to my cabin and taken her on every available surface. It took all my military training, every ounce of learned control and counter-interrogation strategies to peel myself off of her. And even though I know it was the right thing to do I’ve regretted it ever since.

She bends and fumbles to untie her skirt.

“I got it.” Anything to put my hands on you. I drop to a squat and just like before I’m tempted to lift the skirt like some horny teenager hoping for a panty shot. I wonder if they’re conservative white cotton, or if Celia has an inner sex goddess and they’re red lace. Either one would be a fantasy in the making.

I force myself to be a gentleman and untie the fabric, watching it fall to cover what little of her skin she was showing. “There.” I stand and her chin tilts to meet my eyes.

“Thanks.” She flashes a bashful smile.

“I have to say . . . your deckhand skills were impressive.” I lean back against the railing. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

She pulls off the hat I gave her, tossing all that wild hair around her face, and hands it to me.

I take it from her and resist the urge to press it to my nose to see if it smells like her shampoo.

A few beats of silence stretch between us until she blows out a long breath and dips her chin. “Right, well . . . I better go.”

She grabs her purse from inside the cabin and runs her fingers through her hair in an attempt to smooth it down as she heads to the back of the boat to disembark.

An impulse to call out to her pushes at my chest, an urgency to keep her close.

You use women as a distraction, a hobby to fill your mind so you don’t have to think about what happened in the valley.

The shrink’s words tumble through my head.

Celia is most definitely a distraction. I may have instigated the kiss and there’s absolutely a desire for more, but I’m not chasing after her as a means to run away from my problems.

And Cal wouldn’t appreciate me using his friend as amusement for my dick. No, that’s not what this is. I actually enjoyed myself today. The view was a lot better with Celia around, and we had some good laughs, she didn’t seem at all uncomfortable when the conversation died and we’d sit for long stretches of silence.

“Aden?” She’s on the dock gazing up at me. “Thank you for today. That was a lot more fun than packing would’ve been.”

That’s right. She’s moving. “You’re welcome.”

Well, fuck . . . any time I’m going to get to spend with her is going to have to happen before she leaves to . . . where is she moving?

“Is there a number I can reach you, ya know, if I have any questions?” She’s rocking back and forth, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, and I notice she’s rolling a silver coin between her fingers.

I hop over the railing and she jumps when I land just a few feet from her. I hold out my hand. “Phone.”

She nods and fishes the device from her purse. I add my cell, my chest feeling warm at the idea of her using it.

“There.” I hand it back and she shoves it in her bag.

“Great, so . . .” She looks up at me with those eyes and those fucking lips. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

Limited time.

Cal’s gonna kill me.

Fuck it.

I hook her around the back of the neck and pull her to me. She stumbles and places both palms against my chest. Her touch feels amazing. “I want to kiss you again, you good with that?”

“But I thought—”

“Just a kiss.” It’s risky, but I have to try, because the alternative is nothing at all and I don’t think I could stand knowing Celia is in the same town as me and I can’t put my lips on hers.

Her breath hitches, and damn, the sound is an injection of pure lust. “Yes.”

“Good.” I brush my thumb along her jaw and my eyes are drawn to her tongue as it swipes her lower lip. I groan and every part of me wants to get closer. “And what about tomorrow?”

“You want to kiss me tomorrow?” Her pulse beats a rapid rhythm against my palm.

“If I did, would you let me?” I stare at her lips and prepare to suck them between mine when she nods.

Thank fuck!

Pulling up to bring her mouth close, she’s forced to her tiptoes and I smile seconds before I press my lips to hers. Damn, but her mouth is like falling onto the softest pillows after a lifetime of resting on concrete. I lick my way inside and close my eyes when our tongues slide together. My body throbs for her. My fingers fork into her hair and it’s so damn soft and smells like strawberries, I could literally eat this woman alive.

But I won’t.

I have the willpower of a seasoned soldier; surely I can resist every urge to possess the woman in my arms.

It’s just a kiss.

Even as my defense blares in my head so does the truth.

This is not keeping my distance.

I watch as the taillights to Celia’s orange Thing round the corner of the lot and disappear. That car has to be fifty years old, I’m shocked it even started. My jaw clenches at the thought of her driving around a tin can—dammit, Aden, she’s not your problem.

Shaking off my unwarranted worry, I contemplate heading to the Office for a drink, but know if I do it’ll be— My gaze darts to movement from the corner of my eye. A man with a full dark beard and heavy coat walks with his head down. Something about him seems off, way off, and way too familiar.

There’s a whiff of smoke.

Gunpowder.

Not real. This is not real!

Alerts sound in my head and I glare at the fucker only to have him glare right back.

“You got a problem?” I keep my eyes on his.

He shakes his head and quickens his pace. “No.”

“Little fuckin’ warm for a trench coat.” I call out after him and he stops and stares. Suspicious asshole. My pulse rockets through my veins and I move toward him. “You got something to say?”

“Do I know you?” the guy asks, and I could swear I picked up a slight accent.

American pig!

“What did you say?” I reach for the waistband of my shorts only to realize I don’t have my gun.

Explosions light the backs of my eyes and mortar fire pounds in my ears.

“I d-didn’t say anything,” he stutters.

“You’re a little far from home, sadiq.” As I get closer he ducks into the fish market.

“What the hell are you doin’?”

I whirl around to the voice from my back. It’s Jenkins with his hands up and his eyes tight.

“Fuck! You can’t creep on my back like that, man!” I inhale a lungful of the warm briny air and try like hell to calm my racing pulse. I search my mind for the sights and sounds of war but what was so real seconds ago is gone.

“Need to get that shit in check, Colt,” he mumbles for only my ears.

I push past him to head to the sanctuary of my boat. “You don’t fucking think I know that?” I step onto the deck only to hear him lumber aboard right behind me. I fist my hands in my hair and then lock them behind my neck. Breathe . . . Breathe. “I’m trying.”

He pulls a beer from the ice chest left over from fishing. “You want any chance with a woman like Celia . . .” He cracks the top and takes a swig. “You’re gonna have to try harder.”

“Who says I want a chance with her?”

“Saw you suckin’ her face off.” He shrugs one bony shoulder and sits down. “Figure you want a chance.”

I blow out a long breath and drop to the padded bench along the railing. “It’s getting better.” It’s not, but I’m avoiding triggers more, like crowds, my family, people in general. They all manage to infuriate me without even trying.

I moved home after my honorable discharge and I didn’t last a week under my parents’ roof. They don’t get it. Fuck, I don’t get it. Jenkins . . . he served in Vietnam. He gets it.

“Can’t keep pushing it down, Colt. That shit you can’t seem to shake? It’ll fester inside you and kill everything you got in life until it’s just you. That’s the bitch of it, ya know? It kills everything . . . everything but you. You got a choice, you wanna live or you wanna die. You pick death, that’s easy. You live. . . .” He takes another gulp from the frosty beer can. “Well, that’s worse than dying, so either way you’re fucked.”

I snag a beer and pop the top. “Anyone ever say you give shitty pep talks, Jenks?”

He grins, flashing black holes where teeth used to be. “I’ve heard that a time ’er two, yeah. Don’t change the fact that you know I’m right.”

“I’m workin’ on it. VA wants to shove pills at me, but I can’t function on ’em, can’t think straight. They want me to talk to someone, but that means going back there in my head, and that shit feels too real.”

“I gotcha’, you don’t have to explain it to me. It’s a bitch. Difference ’tween us is I’m old and past my glory years, you starin’ ’em right in the eye. Still hope for you. But you can’t keep pickin’ fights with anyone who reminds you of the enemy. You want a chance with a good woman, you’re gonna have to try harder.”

“Nah . . . she leaves in a couple weeks. We’re just having fun.”

“Mmmm.” He stares out across the docks.

I shoot him a side glance, not at all comfortable with his silence. “What?”

“Hm? Nothing. Sounds like you got it all figured out, that’s all.”

“Yeah.” I swig from my beer. “I do.”

I can hold it together for a couple weeks to spend time with the woman whose photo I’ve been staring at since I moved here. Then I’ll go back to being miserable, fucked up, and alone.

SAWYER

After fishing all day with Aden I hit a U-Haul for boxes and the local market for some food to stock the fridge. It wasn’t until I got into the shower that my thoughts hit rewind on my day.

What was supposed to be a quick trip to the marina for an apology ended up a day at sea that included sushi and kissing. Lots of kissing.

The memory of Aden’s powerful lips moving against mine force me to cold water to temper my sunburned skin as well as my lust-burned thoughts.

What did he mean when he said he’d want to kiss me tomorrow? The idea of seeing him again, that look in his eyes seconds before he kissed me has me bracing my weight against the tile wall to stay upright. Is it possible to fall for someone so quickly? I dated Mark for six months and never felt so . . . unstable at the thought of his mouth on mine.

Climbing out of the shower, I dry off and cover my tender skin with a healthy amount of lotion. It’s finally dark out and my eyes are dry and heavy, but I can’t go to sleep until I talk to my sister.

I dial her number while crawling beneath the covers. My cell phone practically tingles against my palm knowing Aden’s number sits there just waiting to be used. Even pretending to be my fearless twin isn’t enough to get me to push the right buttons. Calling him now would seem too eager. I’m afraid of what I’d say if he answered. Afraid he wouldn’t answer. Terrified he came to his senses in the few hours of separation and reject me.

“Hey, I’m busy vaccinating orphans in India, so leave a message.”

Before I open my lips to do just that a call beeps through on my other line. Celia’s face and big smile take up the screen.

“I was just leaving you a message.”

“I’m moving a little slower and my phone only gives me two rings before the fucking voicemail picks up. But enough of that, tell me how you’re loving being me.”

She sounds tired. I check the clock that’s shaped like a pineapple. It’s just after eight-thirty. “Did I wake you?”

“Sawyer, we can talk about my sleep patterns when you get home. Tell me about your day.”

I curl up onto my side and can’t fight the smile that’s splitting my face. “Oh my God, Cece, you’ll never believe what I did.”

She laughs soft and low and I can tell she’s probably curled up in the same position. “What’s his name?”

“Aden Colt.”

“Whoa . . . that is definitely a hot guy name.”

I go on to explain everything from my insulting him to my attempt at an apology, how the coin flip kept me on the boat, and of course the kissing.

“See! I told you being me is awesome!”

Now it’s me who’s giggling and I’m not a giggler. “It really is, but it’s also terrifying. I don’t know how you do it.” A long sigh falls from my lips. “I really like this guy, but he thinks I’m you. So what do I do now?”

“I once told a guy I hung out with in Miami that I was a South African princess named Tina. We had a good five days together and he never knew the truth. No harm, no foul.”

“Tina doesn’t sound like a South African name.”

“Details.”

“So you’re saying I should . . . that I should just—”

“Don’t bust a forehead vein, Sawyer. Yes, I think you should hang out with him. It’s totally natural to have a quick summer fling with a hot guy at the beach.”

I bite my lip, feeling conspiratorial and kind of loving it. “Shouldn’t I at least tell him the truth? Tell him who I am?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

I wonder if I should list all the ways spending time with Aden in any kind of a sexual way would be very fun. God, what is wrong with me? That’s so not me!

“Besides, if you tell him now you could piss him off. That would ruin everything. And Sawyer . . .”

“Yeah.”

“I really don’t want anyone over there to know I’m dying.”

My heart squeezes painfully. “Don’t say that—”

“I’m serious. If you tell him you’re not me, they’ll wonder where I am and you’ll tell them and then my whole plan will be blown to shit.” A few beats of silence stretch between us. “Please, Sawyer? You promised.”

“Yeah, okay. It shouldn’t take me long to get done what I need to do, I’ll be out of here before anyone figures it out.”

“Thank you.” She yawns and it triggers a yawn of my own. “You sound exhausted.”

“I was going to say the same to you.” I snuggle deeper into the bed.

“I want daily updates.”

Another yawn crawls from my throat. “I know, I’ll call you every night.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I fall asleep shortly after with the phone still clutched in my hand and visions of Aden sailing through my mind.