Page 81 of Men of Fort Dale: The Complete Series

Grunting in approval, he stepped onto the front walk, which was also clear of weeds. The front steps looked well-used but safe, and as he looked over, he saw only one of the chairs had a cushion.

The door swung wide, and General Winter stared at him through the screen door.

“Ah, sorry, General, I wasn’t thinking. Hopefully, I didn’t put you off schedule?”

“I can promise you, I’m just as prone to being early as you are, so you’re just in time. Come on in, and...call me David, please. This isn’t supposed to be a formal occasion.”

Christian nodded, taking the door as the general pushed it open for him.

He had to remind himself to think of him as David.

It’s not like Christian didn’t know General Winter’s first name or anything, but he’d never called him by it, not even in conversation with another person.

It seemed disrespectful to refer to the general he respected highly by his first name when his title and surname were far more appropriate.

He was led into a small entryway where he kicked off his shoes and carefully aligned them with the boots and another ratty pair of shoes.

There wasn’t much of a hallway, only about four or so feet before it opened up into the rest of the house.

More specifically, it opened into a spacious dining room with a solid table and eight chairs in the middle.

David chuckled, waving a hand toward the house. “I’m sure you’re dying to look around, so go ahead.”

“You know me too well,” Christian said.

Christian wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity, so he moved to the left of the table, where the space continued into a study with a small loveseat, bookshelves, and a desk with a computer.

A set of closed double doors stood to his left, and Christian would hazard a guess they led to the master bedroom.

As he passed through the dining room, he spotted the kitchen to the right.

The only thing separating it from the rest of the house was a wall where a fridge and stove sat and the large counter space, with three tall barstools facing toward the dining room.

General Winter stood at the stove, bent over as he fussed with whatever was cooking.

To the right of the dining room, an arch opened up and dropped down into the living room.

The furniture was dark leather, the large coffee table in front of the couch was glass-topped, and the legs looked like genuine wood.

Against the far wall was a sizeable TV in an entertainment system lined with even more books than the study.

Going past the living room, another hallway, longer and wider than the others stretched back, and Christian saw two doors at the end, one on each side and another identical set halfway down.

General Winter’s voice piped up from behind him. “That’s only a couple of guest rooms, my workout room, and the second bathroom.”

“Only?” Christian asked, thinking of his one-bedroom apartment with what was essentially a half bath.

“This was the house they gave me when I was first stationed here, so I’ve done what I can to try and make it a little more me,” David explained.

Christian turned, deciding he probably didn’t need to see the bedrooms. “I figured this was the one you chose.”

David chuckled, disappearing back into the kitchen as he spoke.

“Truth be told, this isn’t far off what I’d have liked for my home if I’d had a choice.

I could have had a choice, but this was the first place that opened up that they thought suited my position, and I took it.

Been here for years, and I’ve been steadily working at it.

The deck alone took me almost a year, and it’s not even that big. ”

Christian rounded the corner, standing at the counter to watch David cook. He stood on the dining room side to stay out of the way.

“I didn’t even see a deck,” Christian admitted.

David nodded over Christian’s shoulder. “I keep the windows on that side of the house shuttered at this time of night. There’re so many windows in this house you’d be blinded at sundown.”

Christian turned, realizing he was facing west, and nodded. Most of the west side of the house was large windows.

“Great during the morning and daytime, not so much in the evening,” David continued.

“Is the backyard as nice as the front?” Christian asked.

“I certainly hope so, though Sara tells me no one notices the plants when I’ve got a jacuzzi on the deck.”

Christian’s eyes widened. “You have a hot tub?”

David chuckled. “I know it sounds a little hedonistic, but it serves a practical purpose. One of the things about getting older is, even if you keep yourself in decent shape, your body does start to protest. That thing has saved my back muscles more often than I could tell you.”

“Doesn’t hurt that it probably attracts people too,” Christian teased.

David looked up after flipping something in the pan. “I told you, I rarely bring people here. If I’m going to…entertain, I prefer to do it in a hotel room.”

Christian smiled. “Is it because you have a thing for younger guys? You don’t want to be seen?”

“I wouldn’t be telling the truth if I said that wasn’t one of the reasons, and thank you so much for saying it with all the grace and subtlety I’ve come to expect from you,” David said wryly.

“Hey, I’m not saying it to judge you,” Christian told him.

And that wasn’t just because Christian knew damn well if circumstances were different, he’d want to be one of those younger guys the general was into.

Christian drummed his fingers on the countertop. “Alright, what’s the main reason you don’t bring people here?”

“As much as I made it sound like this wasn’t the home I chose, I have made it mine. Sara always said that even as a child, I was pretty territorial and preferred my own space. I suppose that’s only gotten more intense as I’ve aged.”

Christian plopped down on one of the benches. “You know, that’s twice you’ve mentioned getting old, but you shouldn’t.”

David raised a brow, pulling the pan off the heat. “Oh? Closer to fifty than forty doesn’t count as getting old?”

“I’m pretty sure you could still run paces around many of the soldiers on the base.”

“Hmm, I should update the training schedule then.”

“And you’re not exactly carrying a lot of fat on you.”

“A good diet and proper exercise will carry you for decades.”

“And you’ve got the stamina to keep up with people younger than me.”

“And there’s the tact again.”

“General.”

“I told you to call me David.”

“David.”

“Yes?”

“You’re a damn good-looking man who’s in great shape. Stop talking like you’re getting ready to keel over and die.”

The slight smile forming on the general’s face faded, and he looked up at Christian.

Something in his pale green eyes made Christian’s stomach tighten as he stared back.

Christian didn’t want to swear by it, but he couldn’t help thinking there was something heated behind the cautiousness in the general’s narrowing eyes.

“You know what they say about flattery, don’t you?” General Winter asked.

“Reports are conflicting. At this point, I’m hoping the ones telling me it’ll get me anywhere are accurate,” Christian said with a cheeky grin.

“I suppose you’ll have to find out.”

“A little mystery in life never hurt anyone.”

General Winter chuckled, pulling the pan from the heat and turning back toward the far corner, his back to Christian.

It was the first time Christian remembered seeing the man in anything other than his uniform.

Not that Christian could argue with his uniform; it was a good look for him.

Yet seeing him in jeans and a loose button-up shirt was even more enticing than the video.

Well, in the immediate sense, anyway.

General Winter looked over his shoulder, smirking. “You’ve grown quiet.”

“And you look like you’re focusing.”

He chuckled. “I hardly need to focus while I get the food onto plates.”

Christian smiled. “Maybe I’m just thinking.”

“That’s a dangerous task, but it hasn’t meant any danger for me so far.”

“Maybe you just don’t know what I’m thinking about.”

“Or, maybe I do.”

That stopped Christian short, and he gazed at General Winter with undisguised curiosity.

If David sensed his stare, he was doing a damn fine job of pretending he didn’t.

It allowed Christian to watch him as he leaned over the plates, piling up what looked like greens, a few bits from the pan on top of beautifully seared fish.

Watching him work steadily was oddly calming, even as he found his eyes constantly drifting to where the man’s jeans hugged his ass just right.

“Do you think this is common?” Christian asked suddenly.

General Winter looked up, frowning. “Hm?”

Christian motioned between them. “I know people in our position are bound to be close, kind of just...part of the job, you know? As your assistant, I have access to you constantly, seeing you in all sorts of moods and whatnot, but...do you think everyone with a working relationship like ours also has...I don’t know, uh?—”

He trailed off, realizing what he was about to say. As comfortable as he felt, the sudden realization that the entire situation felt oddly intimate left Christian tongue-tied and with red cheeks.

General Winter chuckled. “Is it as personal?”

“Yeah,” Christian said, now studiously admiring the countertop.

“No, I don’t think so. Not that I possess statistics to say for sure, but I’d hazard a guess that few generals or bosses could depend on their assistants to have the sort of unwavering loyalty and desire to help you’ve shown.

And I imagine even fewer can count on their assistants to become something like a friend to them over time without realizing it. ”

Christian looked up, unsure how to feel about such a platonic title. “Something like a friend.”

General Winter turned around, holding two plates and a mysterious smile. “Something.”