Soldier's Christmas (Wingmen Warriors 8)

Yes, he was more than a little arrogant. Self-assured. And of course he was usually right.

Smart man that he was, he must have known on some level that he'd been pushing all her buttons, too, almost ensuring she would run. She wasn't the only one who'd kicked the legs out from under their shaky marriage.

Here they were, two combat veterans scared to death to tackle happily ever after. Two leader-loners who had to take a risk on a partnership. Partnerships came with higher stakes. Having someone to watch your back also meant having someone to lose. But if she didn't try, she would lose even more. She couldn't lie to herself anymore.

She still loved Joshua Rosen. Totally. No quitting this time.

With renewed energy and purpose, she tore into another box. Christmas decorations winked back up at her. A snow globe glistened. Santa perched on an airplane dropping packages. Her mismatched creche waited to be assembled.

Presents and parcels were packed alongside, including a last-minute arrival she'd shoved into the box.

She lifted out the package addressed to her.

From Josh's grandmother?

Alicia tore away brown packing paper and reached into the box. A wooden moose stared back up at her, antlers ready for candles.

Her eyes filled with tears. She scooped out her mismatched creche and held it beside Josh's moose menorah from his grandmother. Somehow the two different symbols presented in their quirky manner looked so very right together.

Just the way she'd envisioned and hoped things could be for her with Josh.

She replaced both back in the box with careful hands. Shaky breaths doing little to ease her light-headed nerves, she smoothed her hunter-green angora sweater. She wasn't naive enough to believe they would never hit rocky patches again. She was scared, but then the two symbols of hope cradled in the moving box had sprung from scary times survived through trust and love.

It would take a lot of compromise and love—courage beyond a chestful of medals—for she and Josh to lower their defenses enough to be touched and healed by the power of the season.

But thanks to knowing this wonderful man who had the most endearing penchant for wearing crazy boxers, making her smile, melting her heart, she now had an abundance of trust and love to give.

"Do you need some help?"

Josh glanced up from blowing on the logs, just the sound of his wife's voice combusting a fire in him that rivaled anything in the works in front of him.

Alicia strode toward him across the white carpet, packing box in hand, crimson red velvet miniskirt begging his hands to climb right up and explore her legs. Her Christmas-green fuzzy sweater all but

screamed "touch me." Rein it in, libido.

He wanted to park with her in front of a romantic fire and she wanted to scale mountains of boxes nearly as tall as the snowy mountains outside their window. Not an auspicious start to their reconciliation.

"I'm set here." And he was, with a clear mission. Operation: Win Back His Wife—without being a dumb ass this time. Hand on his knee, he shoved to his feet. "What about you? Do you need some help with that?"

He kept his tone light. He wouldn't push her like he'd done before. If she needed time to finish settling her past, their future, then he would damn well give her plenty of space.

But he wasn't walking away.

Her black ankle boots thudded softly against the carpet as she walked past a rattan futon. "Actually, yes, I could really use help finding the microwave, but we'll get to that in a minute. First, I have something for you." She rifled through the box, setting aside bulks of packing paper, until she unearthed a gift-wrapped box, shoebox-size.

She thrust it toward him. "Merry Christmas. Happy Hanukkah. From me."

He took the box from her, the simple brush of their fingers making him long to unwrap her instead. >He couldn't allow himself to look at Alicia with her blond hair still tousled from making love. Crouching, he scooped his survival vest and tossed Alicia's to her, as well. He tucked behind the stacked logs with her, shrugged into his vest, drew his flare gun.

Headlights swooped across the Plexiglas window, no stealthy approach. A good sign.

Low voices permeated through, but nothing overly loud or specific to discern - which meant bad news.

This wasn't a military rescue or they would have announced themselves. Still, he could only see two figures. Could there be more lurking?

Alicia held up two fingers in the dimly lit corner, a question puckering her brow. "Only two guys on the snowmobiles?" she whispered.

"Seems so." With some luck, these were only a couple of hunters.