Page 3 of Luck Be Mine (The Defenders #3)

“Happy New Year to you.” Her voice was a raspy scrap of noise. “But we’re already three weeks into January.”

His blue T-shirt and jeans molded well-defined muscles.

“Doesn’t matter.” He stepped aside and revealed a two-foot-tall plant in a terra cotta ceramic pot.

Tiny red lights with silver hearts hung from large green leaves.

The pseudo tree twinkled softly in the dim light of the bedroom.

The tiny hearts should have smothered the tree in cuteness, but they gave the small greenery a touch of elegance.

Tears flooded her eyes. “Hunt!”

“Like it?”

“Yes! I haven’t had any plants since…” She stopped, unable to pull the timeframe and shying away from the lapse. “Before my second deployment?”

“This is a first for me, too. I usually keep the green outside. But I figured this was a first step to gardens, a big kitchen, and a barbecue.” He held up a finger. “Wait. I have one more thing.”

He went back into the living room.

Cait stared after him. He’d remembered her ramblings in Germany about the house with a fence and a yard and a dog!

He returned with a large white plastic sack with a logo she couldn’t make out. He eased onto the bed beside her and set the bag at her thigh.

“I thought you might be missing your favorite stress reliever.” He loosened the top of the bag and handed her the biggest item.

Cait gasped. “A sketchpad?”

“One the clerk recommended. I didn’t know your favorites, but I figured something was better than nothing until your gear arrives. Check the rest. I can return anything you don’t want.”

She used her good hand and pulled out top quality drawing pencils, erasers, tracing paper, pastel pencils, and a pencil box.

“Oh, my God. Hunt!” She disrupted the items and shifted in the bed, hiding the pain.

“I’m thrilled.” She leaned to kiss him, and he moved closer to make it easier.

Firm met soft and had her heart pounding. God, she missed their closeness.

“This is…” Cait teared and sat back against the pillows. “I did need these, but I wasn’t going to buy new. I wanted back what I’d left in Afghanistan.”

Hunt made a face. “You’ll get those, too, but I figured new might suffice while you recuperate.”

She reached for his hand and sank into the solid feel of him, the stability, the way he always got things right. “Yes, it will. Thank you. You don’t know what this means…”

He leaned in and kissed her again. “I do. I’m glad I got it right.”

“You always get it right. You never miss a step.”

“The scars on my body would disagree.”

She frowned. “I’m not talking about your job. I’m talking about me.”

“Well, I walked away once, then almost lost you. I’m trying.”

She eased away from the pressure on her shoulder and winced.

He helped her shift. “Find your comfortable spot again. I brought dinner home from Clark’s, my favorite diner. Doogie will yell he could cook something, but this leaves us alone.”

“You’re doing a lot of plotting there, mister.” She turned her hand to hold his and studied the plant from the top of the many leaves to the base of the terra cotta pot. “Where did you get the plant?”

“Grocery store. I’d like to claim the idea, Doc, but it was Maisey Clark’s.”

She scooted over and bit back hard against the groan. “Come closer.”

“You made yourself hurt.”

“Pain or my husband? Husband wins.” She smiled as naturally as possible when he eased into position to be closer to her. “See you wanted next to me, too.”

“Anywhere, anytime.”

“Could we find a movie to watch?”

“Honey, I’m never near a screen unless it’s work and terrorists are involved.”

Cait stifled a laugh. “No surprise there, frogman. How about Battleship ? It has to be streaming somewhere. Navy, aliens, things go boom movie.”

“You’re choice.” His dry, non-committal comment mirrored his expression. He didn’t look like a man who found movie watching fun.

“You have to take your boots off so we can play footsie during the movie.”

His brow wrinkled in confusion. “Footsie? Is this a rule?”

“Yep. In my bed it is.”

He sighed with fake exasperation, but he untied his boots and slipped them off. He went to the kitchen and came back with a plastic box container, a bag of chips, and a bottle of water. He laid the container in her lap.

White chocolate chip cookies. “Cookies? You brought me cookies.” An old tradition between them and him remembering caused tears. She swallowed hard to push them away. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He grinned and settled next to her. “Are you good?”

She’d proven she could find a comfortable spot once and now she’d do so again and again until she’d healed and became strong once more. She would find a way to chase the sadness from Hunt’s eyes if it was the last thing she did.

“You know the one thing I like about you?”

He gave her a puzzled frown, his green eyes tracing from her hairline to her lips, over scars she studied in the mirror and hated. “Only one? What?”

“You plan ahead.” She grabbed a cookie and commandeered the remote while he packed her drawing items back into the bag and set them on the floor by the bed. She found and started the movie.

He gave her the side eye but settled next to her. She was gratified he laughed over the chicken burrito scene, and the stress dropped from his face when the aliens appeared.

The cookies were gone and the chips unopened when she gave into the tug of his warmth and shut her eyes. Dinner would have to wait.

§§§§§§§§§§

Home – Ten days

?The Saga of the Red Sofa ?

Hunt glanced through the peephole and then did a double take. Robert “Bax” Baxter, his team’s communication guru, twisted his face into a goofy grin and centered his mug on the peephole. What the hell?

He flipped the lock and opened the door.

“Don’t ask. I got orders.” The young man dropped the face and elbowed his way into the apartment. “Where’s Doc?”

“Asleep.” Her color had moved from the pale of a severely injured person to flushed cheeks with less restless movements in the last ten days.

She got mad the first night he’d tried to sleep in the recliner, insisting he belonged beside her.

The demand surprised him. His big body accidentally rolling into hers would hurt.

But being next to her calmed them both. Together they’d gradually added small comforts to ease her pain and help her settle.

Her eyes still told a hard story, but being home gave her balance.

Hunt shut the door behind Baxter. “What orders? Are you back at work?”

“Yes, starting Tuesday.”

Hunt’s return was still a couple weeks away. He was fighting the need to keep Cait close against a strong wish for the normalcy of the job.

He snorted to himself.

There was nothing normal about his job. Missions would wreck all the home plans. Training cycles only lasted so long.

“What orders?”

“My mother’s. She talked to Doogie’s mother, and they’ve hatched some plan that includes running all of us around.”

“Like?”

“We’re arranging your apartment to make Cait more self-sufficient. Stocking food, too. Mrs. Dugan says we need every minute to get Doc ready to be here without you.”

Doogie’s mama would arrive for an extended visit in two weeks, and she planned to stay for two months. It was something of a miracle Doogie wasn’t bitching about the visit already. His mama tended to be specific in her orders.

Hunt’s stomach pitched. It wasn’t only about returning to work. It was the thought of leaving Cait, of not being here if she struggled. How could he protect her if he wasn’t home?

Baxter stayed silent and let him work it through. Smart. “The day is coming, LT. Unless you aren’t coming back.”

“I am. Soon.” He made the expected commitment but had no idea how to battle the husband part of himself. How did other married men do it?

Baxter interrupted the panic of his indecision. He missed the first part of what the man said and focused to sort it out. “…they’re on their way up the stairs with a sofa.”

“What sofa?”

“Doogie’s extra sofa from his den. He said his mother catches you without any furniture in your living room there will be hell to pay.”

It was a pisser when people adopted you.

“Is this the red velvet one with the arms and weird textures from his game room?” Hunt groaned silently, hoping against hope it was Doogie’s mottled beige one from the living room. But even as the thought landed, he knew there was no way the man would pass the good one off. It fit his size.

He worked on banishing the pained expression off his face. He didn’t succeed.

Baxter grinned and sat in the recliner. Moved from the bedroom, it was currently the room’s only chair. “Yep. It’s comfortable. I’ve slept on it.”

He sorted through his options.

Bax grinned. “Nope. Can’t stop it. Doogie, Carter, and Tommy are in the parking lot unloading.”

Red? He glanced around the empty room and couldn’t see it.

Doogie had a regular rotation of team members who crashed on the sofa. Hunt didn’t want them here. No furniture meant no one in his space, in his safe zone. Honestly, they needed a table and chairs more than they needed a sofa. Cait wouldn’t be straying too far from the bed any time soon.

Baxter raised a finger. “Oh, and my mom had a table and chairs. Doogie picked it up yesterday from Pasadena.”

“Is it red?”

Confused wrinkles crossed Bax’s brow. “No, it’s got brown legs and a green tile top.”

Great, they could have Christmas colors. “How many chairs?”

“Four, I think. I don’t live at my mom’s house anymore. You do know that, right?”

Hunt couldn’t tell whether Bax was being sarcastic or honest, so he went for a neutral answer. “I assumed.”

The man leaned forward and planted his elbows on his knees. “We want Doc to be comfortable, LT.”

Hunt scratched his head. “I understand, Bax. No worries. We’ll make it work. But pass on, nothing else. Cait has furniture in storage in Texas. As soon as she’s able, she’s going to arrange for the Army to move the stuff.”

Baxter slapped his knees and stood. “Gotcha. But in the meantime, we gotta keep our moms happy. Doogie’s got accessories, too.”

What did he know about mothers? Nothing. Nada. Because his mother was a member of the world’s most deplorable moms’ club.

A hard knock had Baxter jumping to the door.

Jason “Tommy” Thompson entered and with two fingers gave Hunt a saluted hello. The team’s sniper was one person who frequented Doogie’s red sofa sleeping arrangement. “Making sure the route is clear. This thing weighs more than I remembered.”

“I’ll get my shoes and come help.” Hunt went to the bedroom, checked on a sleeping Cait, and slipped into his running shoes. Returning to the living room, he sat and tied the laces. This was so…thoughtful.

“Not sure there’s room for all of us on the stairs, LT.” Tommy moved to the door, presumably to observe the progress of red velvet up the stairs. Good thing there were only fifteen steps.

Hunt went to the door and checked. John “Carter” Evans stepped carefully backwards on each stair as he balanced the weight of the six-foot sofa.

The muscles in his arms bulged with strain.

Doogie was on the downside, guiding and resting the weight of the sofa on his chest. They were about halfway to the front door.

K-Rock covered the rear. His job seemly to catch Doogie?

Hunt watched them struggle a few more steps. “Need help, guys?”

“Naw, we’ve got it,” Carter grunted. Five more steps and they were near the top. How they planned to swivel into the apartment he’d leave to them.

Carter kept the sofa steady while Doogie powered up the last few stairs. Hunt moved into the apartment and got out of the way. Standing on end in the doorway, the red monstrosity was worse for wear.

“Oh my!” Cait’s soft voice from behind him expressed her dismay. She leaned on her crutch in the bedroom doorway, her hair tousled, his Navy shirt hanging on her frame. Her eyes wide, she gazed around. “Hey, Bax, Tommy. Carter, what’s this?”

“Surprise, Doc.” Carter’s neutral face gave no clue to his feelings.

“We brought a sofa for the living room.” Tommy’s shit-eating grin pretty much covered the whole deal.

“I can see that.” The red velvet sofa rocked in the doorway. Doogie, on the other side, shoved it past the doorstop.

Hunt slipped to her side. She seemed stable for the moment, but he’d spent weeks covering her shaky movements. He wasn’t ready to let go. He crossed his arms and stood ready. “Um, it’s Doogie’s spare sofa from his game room.”

Wide-eyed, Cait innocently smiled. “Oh, I bet there were games on that thing. He shouldn’t have.” Said with all sweetness, Hunt rubbed a hand over his mouth to cover his snort.

Baxter didn’t cover anything. His deep laugh rolled through the empty room. “That’ll teach you not to have a sofa, LT.”

Tommy and Carter hovered in the doorway helping Doogie tip the sofa into the apartment. With a bit of maneuvering, they got the heavy furniture through the doorway. Tommy turned to the two of them. “Where would you like it, ma’am?”

“Ma’am? Seriously, Tommy.” Disgusted Cait was an improvement over struggling Cait.

Tommy grinned, his eyes sparking like a demon on Halloween. “Still Army, ma’am. But I’ll switch. Lucky Charm, where do you want it?”

She pointed at the one long wall in the apartment. “That’s one huge piece of furniture for a tiny room, isn’t it?”

Hunt moved behind her to wrap an easy arm around her waist and rested his chin on her head. “It’s comfortable, so I guess it could be worse.”

She chewed her bottom lip. “I have nothing that matches this, but it’s an excuse to shop.”

Doogie was the last in the door. “Don’t just stand there, you slackers, the rest is in the truck’s backseat, and the table still needs brought up.” Doogie shifted and shoved the big furniture every direction until he was satisfied with where it was.

Baxter, Tommy, and K-Rock shuffled out.

“The table?” Cait’s whisper wiped all attempts to maintain decorum out of his mind. He laughed.

She stared at him over her shoulder. “This is funny?”

He raised a hand to put himself in the innocent category. “I didn’t do this.”

Carter stopped in front of her and studied her eyes and stance like the medic he was. “Gotta let family do. We thought you were dead.” He paused for a moment, then nodded as if satisfied. He went out the door, following the charge to the truck.

She sobered and twisted in Hunt’s arms. “Please don’t tell me the table is red, too.”

“Nope.” He held his silence for as long as he could. For a spec ops warrior who knew how to keep secrets, he caved too fast.

“It’s green.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh Lord, help us.”

He kissed her hair, grinning. “Don’t worry. It gets worse. Doogie brought pillows.”