Accidental Shield

God. Our honeymoon must’ve been spectacular.

“We’re here,” he says, turning down the long road with the gate at the end.

Oh.

For once, I don’t regret letting my mind wander, shifting my knees back together.

I open my eyes as the elaborate wrought iron gates swing open and we drive through them. Our home’s exterior looks as gorgeous as it does inside.

Two tall stories of ivory white stucco with orange-red roof tiles and shutters loom over everything. The large front door is painted jet-black.

I think about how nice a tall welcome sign would be leaning beside the door. Maybe if the letters were painted the same rust-red color of the roof tiles.

I’ll have to look for one, after I talk to him about it, and I mentally add a few potted, flowering plants to my list too.

We settle into the garage. I grab the trash out of the backseat after climbing out.

Flint takes the bag and puts it in a canister before opening the door to the house, welcoming me in with a swoop of his arm. “After you, duchess.”

I smile. It’s nice knowing chivalry still exists here with this gorgeous man.

“Hey, can I use your computer to look up some stuff?” I ask while stepping inside.

“Sure, but do you want a nap or some pain meds first? More mango tea, maybe?” He gives me a big grin, his eyes slightly narrowed.

“Nope, I’m fine. Maybe just a glass of water.” The dream left me unsettled, but I’m not experiencing any nasty new pain. “I just feel like I need to know more about my condition. Something beyond the bits and pieces you get from Cash.”

“Yeah, all right.” He pulls out one of the stools at the kitchen island. “Have a seat. I’ll go get the computer.”

I do, planting my butt down on the seat, but then something else I hadn’t questioned comes to mind. “Don’t you ever work? I mean, you built this house, right? Are you a builder?”

“No, not really. Just a hobby of mine. My grandfather was a carpenter. Used to work the summers with him way back and the skills stuck around.” He’s over by the fridge.

Huh? I blink like a fish out of water.

“Then…how do we live? Money-wise?”

I don’t care how popular my turtle tours are. There’s no freaking way we’d ever make enough money to build this place. It must’ve cost six, maybe even seven figures, not counting the gorgeous land it’s on.

One thing I haven’t forgotten is just how insanely expensive Hawaiian real estate can be. Heck, make that Hawaiian everything.

“Simple, babe.” Flint gives me a smile, pouring some water into a couple glasses and handing one to me. “I was in the military, same as Cash. We took our defense ideas private after we were discharged. Worked in private security for a few years, which helped me build a device I patented and then sold off for a mighty fine payoff.”

“What sort of device? Sold it to whom?”

“Whom? Goddamn, that’s sexy, Little Miss Grammar,” he growls.

I burst out laughing but catch myself. “Seriously, tell me. I’m curious.”

“I sold it to a big-time government contractor, so I can’t divulge much. It’s a sensitive weapons system. Classified shit.” He takes a long swig off his glass.

“You were in the military for a long time, weren’t you?”

“Almost ten years.”

I’d thought so. Not just because of his size and his obviously ripped body, but because of his tattoos. They’re well-done, and the fluttering American flag on one arm made me think military earlier today. “How about Dr. Ivers? Was he in as long as you?”

“Yes, that’s how we met. We served together.”

“So he’s a civilian doctor now?”

“Right.” He sets his empty glass down. “I’ll go get that computer.”

I nod and then close my eyes. It’s pretty weird realizing the more I know, the less I really do.

None of what he told me is surprising, though, so maybe I never totally forgot it. But this need to know more about him, maybe it’s all because I do know and just want to be reminded.

That doesn’t make a lick of sense, I know, but it’s how I feel.

I don’t want my memories gone forever.

Even losing the little things I can’t pin down scares me.

It isn’t fair. I want every morsel about Flint Calum.

All the things a wife knows: her husband’s pet peeves, his strengths, his fears, his kinks.

Yeah. I don’t dare dwell on the last, or I’ll never think about anything else for the rest of the day.

I just feel safe when he’s near. When I realized it was his hand holding my arm in the truck, the nightmare vanished almost instantly.

Hearing him behind me, I climb off the stool. “Can we sit in the living room? On the couch together? It’ll be more comfortable.”

“Yeah…sure.”

For a millisecond, I question how he paused, but then shrug it off and pick up both glasses for a quick refill. This time I go for that glass pitcher of mango tea sitting in the huge stainless steel fridge.