“Okay,” Angel tells Haley. “Tell her I said hi, too. And tell Knox and Lark that we’ll catch up with them later.”
“Okay.” Haley speeds off without a second glance at us.
Angel laughs. “Well. Not even here fifteen minutes and she’s ditched us.”
I hug Angel to my side and kiss her cheek. “She’ll be back. And in the meantime, that gives me more time with her gorgeous mother.” Turning her in my arms, I kiss her again, this time more deeply. Desire ignites, and I feel the familiar throb of need building.
“There are kids here, you know,” a teasing voice says from behind us, and I reluctantly end the kiss before turning around.It’s my old Delta teammate, Nash, who recently retired from the Army and is now living out near Boston.
He flashes a wolfish grin before clapping my shoulder. “Good to see you, man.”
I pull him in for a quick hug. “You too. Glad you could make it.” Angel hasn’t met him yet—although she’s heard about all my old teammates—so I add, “Angel, this is Nash. You’ve heard me talk about him.”
Nash extends his hand to her. “Not too many bad things, I hope.”
“Not at all.” She takes his hand and smiles. “I was hoping I’d get to meet more of Ronan’s friends.”
“I’m happy I could make it,” he replies. “Looks like you’ve got a good crowd here.” His gaze sweeps across the yard. “Is that Hawk I see? And Rhiannon?”
I nod. “Yeah. They used to be on the same GB team as Knox. But you knew that, I’m sure.”
“Right.” Nash’s expression turns thoughtful. “Great to see some familiar faces. Aside from yours, of course.” As he continues surveying the scene, his face jolts in surprise. “Shit, I didn’t know Jackson and Nora had a baby. When did that happen?”
I look over at Gage’s old Night Stalker buddy and his wife, who used to be on the same GB team as Enzo. “Not long ago. A few months, I think?”
“That’s crazy,” Nash says. “You guys all settled and shit.”
“Yeah.” Hugging Angel to my side, I add, “It does feel crazy sometimes. But a good kind of crazy.”
“Who’s crazy? Nash?” Another old friend from the Army, Devin, and his wife, Mal, join our little group. Devin raises his eyebrows at Nash. “Getting into trouble again, Slash?”
Nash gives Devin a friendly punch on the arm. “Hardly. I’ve left those days behind.”
“Slash?” Angel looks puzzled. “I thought you said Nash?”
“I did,” I explain. “But we all had nicknames back when we served. Mine was Irish.”
“Even though he’s part Italian, too,” Nash adds. “But he made a big stink about Saint Patrick’s Day and how heneededto celebrate because of his ancestry. So…” He shrugs. “Irish.”
“I’d had a few drinks,” I reply defensively. “And I was younger back then.”
“And Slash?” Mal asks. “Where did that come from? Did you like heavy metal or something?”
“Not exactly.” I chuckle. “We were training in close combat. Blade work, in particular. Andsomeonedecided to show off and ended up cutting off the tip of his finger.”
Nash smiles sheepishly and lifts his left pinky finger. It’s hard to tell now, but it’s a sliver shorter than the other. “Lesson learned.”
“Hey, are we talking about when Slash chopped off his finger?” Alec laughs as he joins us. Beside him is Hazel, who’s looking much happier now that the worst of her morning sickness has passed. “Everyone heard about that. I think I was on an op somewhere in the desert, and I still heard the story.”
Nash shakes his head ruefully. “I’ll be on my deathbed, and I’ll still never hear the end of it.”
“Probably not,” I reply cheerfully. “But seriously.” I cast a quick glance around the yard. There have to be at least ten people gathered around the buffet table, and as many as that at the tables nearby, eating and talking. Several couples are sitting around the fire pits Enzo set out to stave off the fall chill. My parents are among them, and as I’m watching, my mom takes her phone out and snaps a picture of Haley.
They love Haley, just as I thought they would, and I think it’s safe to say she adores them. Doug and Dillon, their two GoldenRetrievers, didn’t hurt, but from the first time Haley met my parents, there was an immediate bond.
Angel nudges my arm. She’s looking at my mom, too. With a laugh, she says, “I think your mom might take more pictures than I do.”
“It’s possible,” I agree. “Although you both take a lot of pictures.”
