Sarah, and we need you here on this planet. Okay?”
Struck by his parting words, she blinked, assimilating his statement. There was a hidden depth to Ethan, and she saw it in his genuine care for her. That protective energy of his embraced her even more powerfully than before. “Yes...of course.”
* * *
Well that went swimmingly, didn’t it? Ethan was angry with himself as he walked toward SEAL HQ. He had to be at a mission-planning session at 1400. He’d blown it with Sarah. She was wounded, grieving, and he’d just romped into her life like a sledgehammer shattering crystal. Damn. Running his fingers distractedly through his hair, he wondered how to repair the damage he’d done through his ignorance and impatience.
He heard a Black Hawk spooling up at Ops. The sun, hot and burning, fried and dried out everything in its path. Ethan hated it, preferring the cool, damp and humid Alaskan wilderness. That or jumping into the ocean, where he truly felt at home.
What was he going to do to win back Sarah’s attention? Should he continue his other black ops strategy with her? Continue to place an envelope with a stanza of a poem he’d written about her every morning before she woke up? Ethan felt driven to do it by some invisible, unnamed source. His drive to know Sarah to her soul was intense, almost dire. And he’d never felt this before with a woman.
Chapter 5
T he next morning when Sarah awoke, she
found another envelope waiting for her beneath her tent opening. Rubbing the
sleep from her drowsy eyes, she sat up in her cot and looked at her watch. 0700.
She was sleeping long and deep. Moving her fingers through her loose, tangled
hair, she pushed to her feet. She leaned down and slid the pristine white
envelope between her fingertips. Everything was so dirty and dusty here, and it
looked so clean and untouched in comparison. Her heart beat a little harder as
she sat down on the cot, holding it with anticipation between her hands.
Why did this matter so much to her? Did it contain another
stanza to Ethan’s poem? She slid her finger beneath the opening. The same
blue-colored parchment was folded inside it. The paper felt rich as she slowly
moved her fingers across it. What had he written this time? A part of her was
eager to know. After opening it, she read.
And I am truly honored and humbled
In this brief respite of life
To be given an invitation, however
slight,
To take in the scope of your sacred
blooms...
(to be continued when poet has
time)
Sarah sighed softly, grazing the beautiful calligraphy. The
black ink was bold against the blue paper it was written on. Touched, she
absorbed his words, those pictures he painted in her mind with them. Ethan had
written this. Even though she’d only seen him do it one time, she knew. Looking
up, Sarah frowned. To think even one man at Bravo had this kind of sensitivity
in his soul surprised the hell out of her.
Her mind and, if she was honest, her heart, quietly revolved
back to Ethan Quinn. Frowning, Sarah didn’t dare be drawn to him. But she
couldn’t help herself. His quietness, his insights into her, startled and scared
her. Sarah couldn’t get his rugged good looks out of her mind, either. His gray
eyes... God, his eyes just felt like they had X-ray abilities and he saw
straight through her, wounds and all. Equally important, Ethan wasn’t the type
to judge others from what she’d seen so far. Sarah was constantly being judged
in the medevac squadron, especially by Major Tom Donaldson. He had it in for her
and was being very careful as to how he put the screws to her, always covering
his ass so he couldn’t be officially challenged by her. The
bastard.
Folding up the envelope, Sarah rose. Day two of her enforced
healing. She decided to go over to the gym after making her instant coffee. And
then to the chow hall for a late breakfast.
As she picked up a clean dark green T-shirt and a pair of clean
trousers, she wondered if she’d accidentally
Struck by his parting words, she blinked, assimilating his statement. There was a hidden depth to Ethan, and she saw it in his genuine care for her. That protective energy of his embraced her even more powerfully than before. “Yes...of course.”
* * *
Well that went swimmingly, didn’t it? Ethan was angry with himself as he walked toward SEAL HQ. He had to be at a mission-planning session at 1400. He’d blown it with Sarah. She was wounded, grieving, and he’d just romped into her life like a sledgehammer shattering crystal. Damn. Running his fingers distractedly through his hair, he wondered how to repair the damage he’d done through his ignorance and impatience.
He heard a Black Hawk spooling up at Ops. The sun, hot and burning, fried and dried out everything in its path. Ethan hated it, preferring the cool, damp and humid Alaskan wilderness. That or jumping into the ocean, where he truly felt at home.
What was he going to do to win back Sarah’s attention? Should he continue his other black ops strategy with her? Continue to place an envelope with a stanza of a poem he’d written about her every morning before she woke up? Ethan felt driven to do it by some invisible, unnamed source. His drive to know Sarah to her soul was intense, almost dire. And he’d never felt this before with a woman.
Chapter 5
T he next morning when Sarah awoke, she
found another envelope waiting for her beneath her tent opening. Rubbing the
sleep from her drowsy eyes, she sat up in her cot and looked at her watch. 0700.
She was sleeping long and deep. Moving her fingers through her loose, tangled
hair, she pushed to her feet. She leaned down and slid the pristine white
envelope between her fingertips. Everything was so dirty and dusty here, and it
looked so clean and untouched in comparison. Her heart beat a little harder as
she sat down on the cot, holding it with anticipation between her hands.
Why did this matter so much to her? Did it contain another
stanza to Ethan’s poem? She slid her finger beneath the opening. The same
blue-colored parchment was folded inside it. The paper felt rich as she slowly
moved her fingers across it. What had he written this time? A part of her was
eager to know. After opening it, she read.
And I am truly honored and humbled
In this brief respite of life
To be given an invitation, however
slight,
To take in the scope of your sacred
blooms...
(to be continued when poet has
time)
Sarah sighed softly, grazing the beautiful calligraphy. The
black ink was bold against the blue paper it was written on. Touched, she
absorbed his words, those pictures he painted in her mind with them. Ethan had
written this. Even though she’d only seen him do it one time, she knew. Looking
up, Sarah frowned. To think even one man at Bravo had this kind of sensitivity
in his soul surprised the hell out of her.
Her mind and, if she was honest, her heart, quietly revolved
back to Ethan Quinn. Frowning, Sarah didn’t dare be drawn to him. But she
couldn’t help herself. His quietness, his insights into her, startled and scared
her. Sarah couldn’t get his rugged good looks out of her mind, either. His gray
eyes... God, his eyes just felt like they had X-ray abilities and he saw
straight through her, wounds and all. Equally important, Ethan wasn’t the type
to judge others from what she’d seen so far. Sarah was constantly being judged
in the medevac squadron, especially by Major Tom Donaldson. He had it in for her
and was being very careful as to how he put the screws to her, always covering
his ass so he couldn’t be officially challenged by her. The
bastard.
Folding up the envelope, Sarah rose. Day two of her enforced
healing. She decided to go over to the gym after making her instant coffee. And
then to the chow hall for a late breakfast.
As she picked up a clean dark green T-shirt and a pair of clean
trousers, she wondered if she’d accidentally
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