Austin launched off the footstool and smacked his brother's hand, shouting, "Oo-rah!"
"Hoo-ya," Trey parried with the Navy grunt, anything other than a nod to the Air Force.
Yesterday Trey had chanted an Army cadence as he circled the pool. The day before that he'd taped a computer printout of the "Marine Hymn" to Daniel's bag of licorice—a bag that was suspiciously light.
Trey let loose another hoo-ya. Daniel snorted on a chuckle. Trey turned, a wicked glint sparking his brown eyes. The way would never be easy with this kid, but at least Trey had found his sense of humor.
Daniel burrowed a hand into a laundry basket—of clean stuff, he hoped—and yanked free a pair of Austin's shorts and a T-shirt. Once they passed a quick sniff test, he tossed them to the little guy. "What do ya say we head out to IHOP for breakfast before I swing by base so Mary Elise can sleep in?"
Guilt bit over how he'd kept her up late more than once grilling her about where she'd go. What she'd do. Of course, now he wondered if maybe she did have a plan and just didn't care to share it with him.
"Pancakes?" Austin cheered, pushing his head through his wrong-side-out T-shirt.
"IHOP?" Trey echoed with a shrug and an almost disguised grin. "Yeah, I guess that's okay, even if it is a regular hangout for you Chair Force dudes."
"Don't push your luck, kid." He thumped Trey in the stomach with his shoes.
Eyes well off the master bedroom door, Daniel charged down the hall. Leave a note and let her sleep. He wasn't up for resisting a sleep-mussed Mary Elise, anyway.
She might be stubborn, but so was he, and he had reinforcements. Each day that passed, it was obvious she loved Trey and Austin. The boys were his trump card for convincing her to stay.
He locked the front door while his brothers sprinted toward Darcy Renshaw's Firebird easing into her parking spot after her night flight. The boys launched at her as she stepped out. She had to be dead on her feet but didn't wince. He owed Wren and Max more than he could repay.
Daniel finished bolting the door and turned to thumb the remote on the truck lock. "Come on, fellas," he called, striding down the walkway past the mailboxes. "Leave Wren alone so she can go to sleep. Let's get a move on, or I'm ordering Trey chocolate chip pancakes."
"Eww!" Trey's exaggerated gag drifted across the lot.
"You're talking to a man who ate rabbit eyeballs in survival training. I'm not impressed with your bellyaching about the menu, kid."
When Trey didn't snap a ready comeback, Daniel glanced over his shoulder. Wren was long gone, Trey and Austin now standing with some businessman, tie flapping in the breeze over his shoulder.
Alarms jangled in his head. Not the work instincts he'd come to expect and trust, but a strange new protectiveness. Didn't schools teach kids not to talk to strangers?
Daniel charged forward. "Come on, boys. Now."
Trey jogged toward him, dragging Austin by one hand. "That man was just asking about the condos, said he's thinking about moving here."
"Yeah, well, the guy's outta luck, then." He knew damned well there weren't any condos available since he'd already called to check that out for himself in the midst of a stupid whim thinking maybe he could coerce Mary Elise into staying a few doors down.
Just to be close to the boys, of course. And because he wanted to help her as much as she'd helped him. Not because he damn well couldn't stomach the thought of her long-legged stride walking out of his life.
Daniel scooped Austin up under one arm and "flew" him to the truck. "We'll talk about staying away from strangers some more over your milk, kid."
Austin stretched his arms out, airplane-style. "Man's got funny birds on his tie."
"Yeah, yeah." Daniel swung Austin upright and snapped him into the car seat with a newfound skill.
Tucking behind the wheel, Daniel watched the man cross the parking lot to the main office. Okay, that seemed to support his claim of condo hunting. Instincts were there for a reason, however.
He popped open the glove compartment and snagged a pad and pencil, jotting the license plate number on the guy's Mercedes. He'd get Spike to run the number when he checked in about the answering machine tape.
Daniel shifted the truck into reverse and glanced over his shoulder. Two pairs of brown eyes stared back at him.
Those eyes filled with trust, albeit begrudging on Trey's part, until something twisted inside Daniel. He'd been so damned busy thinking about how he would do his duty and take care of them, he'd never even seen it coming.
These weren't trump cards.
They were his brothers, his blood, not just some burdensome responsibility. They needed more from him than a set of bunk beds and a ride to school. God, if he felt this much for the two runts after only a week…