Chasing Honor (The Next Generation Book 2)

by Riley Edwards

  Carter had set his sights on the Naval Academy and accomplished just that. After he was commissioned, he answered another challenge and left for San Diego to go to BUD/s. Six months later he’d graduated and was pinned with a shiny, gold Trident. My brother was one tough son of a bitch.

  When I’d left school to raise Carson, I’d also left behind ROTC and my plans to join the Army. Even though the military was no longer an option, I still had the deep-seated need to serve my community, so I became a cop. Now I wondered if my desire to follow my dreams was selfish.

  “What was that thought, boy?” My dad’s tone caught me off guard. “You’re my son. I’m allowed to worry about you. But don’t you think for one second, I’m not proud as fuck you became a cop. Do not question your decision.”

  “You got all that from one look?”

  “No. From twenty-four years of looks. There are a few things in life I’m good at. One is knowing my sons and what they’re thinking before they do. The other, and maybe more important, is I know my wife and how to—”

  “La la la. Do not finish that sentence.” I looked around not seeing my daughter. “Carson. Come on.”

  “In a hurry?

  “Yeah. I have a headache from hell and I’m hungry.”

  “I bet you are,” he muttered.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I made the mistake of asking. The thing about Carter Lenox was, he didn’t pull punches. He was a straight-shooter, even with his sons.

  “It means, after all these years, there’s a pretty woman in your house.”

  “And?”

  “Son, if I have to spell it out for you then it has been longer for you than I feared.”

  “She’s renting a room. Period. And she’s met Carson, so that’s a double strike. She’s a no-go.”

  “Since when did you start lying to your old man? And did you miss the part about me knowing what you’re thinking before you do?”

  I sighed and resigned myself to an uncomfortable conversation with my dad. I don’t think we’d discussed my sex life since I was sixteen and told them a condom had broken and Chrissy was pregnant. I was happy with that; not discussing sex with my dad was a good thing.

  “Fine, she’s pretty. And the thought has crossed my mind.” My dad chuckled, and I added, “A lot. I’ve thought about it a lot, but it doesn’t change anything. I have to keep my distance. Carson—”

  “Carson is and always will be fine. Stop using her as a shield and an excuse to stop living.”

  I was floored at my dad’s accusation. “I don’t use my daughter.”

  “Sure you do. How many women have you dated since she was born?”

  “None. I was busy being a teenage dad and then a single dad with a career,” I spat out.

  “Right. How many women have you slept with?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” He gestured for me to answer, pissing me off even more. “I don’t know. I haven’t kept track. A few.”

  “Any of those women interest you for more than a roll?”

  “No.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  Christ. Where was he going with this? If I’d thought I had a headache when I’d, arrived I now had an elephant sitting on my skull.

  “No clue. Maybe I just wanted to blow off some steam and get laid. Your point?”

  “No point. An observation. Wake up, the years are passing you by. Do you want to continue having meaningless fucks twice a year or do you want to be happy?”

  “I am happy.” What the fuck?

  “No, you’re content. You love Carson beyond measure. You’re an excellent dad. You have a good family. But you’ve never known bone-deep, soul-consuming love. I know that to be a fact. Because, son, when you find that, you don’t let it go. You hold on to it, you fight for it, you nurture it, and you wrap yourself up in it until there’s no beginning or end to it. Then you’ll be happy.”

  “Not everyone has what you and Mom have,” I reminded him.

  “No. Not everyone does. But one day you will, if you stop hiding behind the shield of parenthood.”

  “You ready, Daddy?” Carson came into the room with a big Tupperware container.

  “Are those all cookies?”

  “Yep. Gran taught me how to make oatmeal raisin today.” She stopped and looked around, lowering her voice she whispered, “They’re gross, but don’t tell Gran. I think they’re adult cookies because no kid likes raisins for a treat.”

  “I heard that, Carson,” My mom called out. “Hey, Ethan. Good shift?”

  “Yeah, Mom. Thanks for—”

  “Don’t you say it. I’m knee deep rearranging the cupboards. Hugs.” She blew me a kiss and went back to work.

  “Come on, Squirt. Time to go home.” I turned to my dad. “Thanks.”

  “Any time.”

  He knew why I was thanking him, I didn’t need to explain anything to him. As he’d said, he knew what I was thinking before I did.

  The drive home was spent thinking about Honor and if what my dad had said was possible. Maybe Honor would be nothing more than a friend, but was there someone out there for me? Could I have what my parents had? I seriously doubted it. My mom and dad had a rare connection. One always knew what the other needed or wanted. My dad was one lucky man, my mother was one in a million.

  Carson and I walked into the house, and I was immediately assaulted by the smell of garlic. My stomach growled, reminding me I’d been so lost in my thoughts I hadn’t stopped to pick up a pizza for dinner.

  “Hey, you guys are home.” Honor said walking out of the kitchen. Jean shorts showcased her tanned, toned legs, and the tank top she wore clung to her ample breasts. Damn, she looked like heaven. “How was your day?”

  “Good,” I answered, and she frowned, not believing me. When had I become so transparent?

  “Right. So, I didn’t know what time you guys would be home for dinner, but I’m cooking. You haven’t eaten, right?”

  I shook my head, and she continued.

  “Awesome. I made spaghetti sauce. An old family recipe. It’s been simmering all day, but I thought I’d wait and make the meatballs and see if Carson wanted to help.”

  “You made dinner?” I stupidly asked.

  “Is that all right? I thought maybe I’d save you the trouble since you worked all day. But . . .”

  I looked down at my daughter, who, for once in her life, was speechless.

  “Would you like to help Honor make meatballs?” Carson nodded, still staring wide-eyed at Honor. “Go wash your hands.”

  Carson took off, and I stalked toward Honor, stopping shy of knocking her over. I tagged her around the waist and pulled her into me, hugging her tightly.

  “Thank you,” I whispered. “You have no idea how much I needed this today.”

  I kissed the top of her head, and she started to wiggle in my arms.

  “Ethan your stuff is poking me.” I found it amusing she’d said the same thing Carson had said when I hugged her. I loosened my embrace, and her arms finally wrapped around my middle.

  “Sorry you had a shit day. You can talk to me about it, or not, I’m here either way.”

  “Ready!” Carson bounced into the kitchen. The thought momentarily crossed my mind that Carson had never seen me touch or hug a woman. My first instinct was to pull away, but Honor felt right in my arms. A very close second to the happiness that thudded in my chest when Carson hugged me.

  “Awesome.” Honor pulled back. “Ethan why don’t you go do what it is you do and let Carson and me take over the kitchen?”

  I let go of Honor and watched her take Carson’s hand, explaining how they were going to mix the ingredients with their hands. I took off to my room to change out of my uniform and thought about what Honor had said, go do what it is you do, and it hit me, I didn’t know what it was I did. I hadn’t been Ethan in a long time. I was Carson’s dad. I was Officer Lenox. But who was Ethan and what did he want?

  The answer came
quickly and with astounding clarity.

  I wanted what I’d just had. Honor waiting for me when I got home from work. A pretty smile on her face. My two best girls in the kitchen mashing ingredients together with their hands.

  Flat-out—I wanted Honor.

  6

  Shit on a shingle. Ethan and Carson had come through the door, my heart had raced, and my mouth had gone dry. This morning, when we’d met at the coffee maker, his eyes had roamed my body with an appreciation I swore I could physically feel. And if he’d thought I couldn’t see his morning wood—he was mistaken. The thick outline was easy to see through the material of his sweats. Which begged the question, could he see my puckered nipples through the spandex of my sports bra? I was so embarrassed I’d holed up in my room until they’d left, reeling from our exchange in the kitchen. Which was a shame because it meant I’d missed seeing him in his uniform. Wowza. Ethan looked hot in the jean and a T-shirt or bare chested with a hard-on, but in his uniform, he was super-duper hot. I never knew I had a thing for men in uniforms but, apparently, I did. Or maybe it was just Ethan, who could wear a paper bag and still be sexy.

  The past week had been great. I’d spent time getting to know the area and scoping out new places to take pictures, I filled a few orders for a gallery that was showing my work, and I was slowly getting to know Ethan and Carson. Ethan was easy to talk to, and funny. His banter with Carson melted my heart, it was plain to see how much he adored his daughter. There still had been no mention of her mom, nor were there any reminders of the woman in the house. I was curious, but I didn’t dare ask. I knew Ethan had caught me more than a few times openly starring at him. He probably thought I was some sort of stalker, but last night after Carson had gone to bed our conversation had turned a little flirty. So maybe he didn’t. And then there was that hug when he got home tonight.

  “Honor?”

  “Right, here, darlin’.”

  “Me and Gran made you cookies today.”

  “You did? That was nice of you.”

  “Yeah. Don’t worry if you don’t like the ones with raisins in them. They’re gross.”

  “I love raisins.”

  “You do?” Her eyes widened and she stopped mixing the raw meat and egg concoction.

  “I do. You keep mixing. I’ll pour in the bread crumbs.”

  Her little hands got back to work, reminding me of the first time my mom taught me how to make meatballs. I missed her so much.

  After we’d kneaded and squished everything together, we rolled out the balls and arranged them on the cookie sheet I’d prepared.

  “You’re good at this,” Carson commented.

  “I’ve done it a time or two.”

  “Gran tried to teach daddy how to cook, but she says he’s hopeless. I think she called him call-in-airy . . .”

  “Culinary?” I offered.

  “Does that mean cooker?”

  “Something like that.” I laughed.

  “Culinary challenged.”

  “I resent that.”

  Carson and I startled, not expecting him to be finished so soon.

  “How do you know we were talking about you?” I teased.

  “Wild guess.”

  He looked eatable standing in the kitchen, hair damp from a shower, another T-shirt pulled tight over what I knew to be a very hard, muscular chest and stomach.

  He cleared his throat and smirked.

  Ass.

  “Want something to drink?” he asked.

  And before I could warn him I’d been to the store he opened the fridge.

  “Holy shit,” he muttered.

  “Daddy!”

  “Sorry, Squirt.” Then turned his attention to me. “You’ve been busy today.”

  “I hope you don’t mind. Since you gave me such a great move-in special, I thought I’d stock up on some groceries. The fridge was a little bare.”

  “You didn’t have to do all this.”

  “And you didn’t have to help me move my stuff and give me a free week’s rent, but you did.”

  “Seriously, Honor.”

  “Seriously, Ethan,” I mocked him, mimicking his stance.

  His gaze dipped from my eyes then back up before he shook his head.

  “Damn, I hate when my dad’s right,” he mumbled under his breath.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing. Thank you for this. But in the future, if you wouldn’t mind picking up some stuff for me and Carson, I’ll leave you money. But no special trips.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Honor . . .”

  “Ethan . . .”

  “I’m serious.”

  “And so am I. If you two need something, and I need to make an extra trip, I’ll make it. I work from home. I set my own hours. Some days I work eighteen hours, some days I work one. My schedule is flexible. I’m getting a room in a nice house for a steal. Not to mention it comes with a pretty little girl I get to cook with. If I want to pitch in and help where I can, I will, and you’re not gonna argue with me. Got it?”

  Ethan stood stock-still, his back ram-rod straight, and I was worried I’d crossed a line with him.

  “Doesn’t she you remind you of Gran when Pop tries to tell her what to do?” Carson broke out in a fit of giggles next to me.

  “Funny, I was thinking the same thing.” His face went from unreadable to soft.

  “Okay, smalls. But I’m leaving money. And that’s non-negotiable.”

  “Smalls? I’m not small.”

  “Sure you are. You’re barely taller than Carson. And compared to me you’re a small, sassy thing.”

  “Back up, darlin’ let me put these in the oven. Make sure it’s set at 350 degrees, and they go on the middle rack.”

  Carson checked the digital read out on the oven, and I ignored Ethan’s comment. I also avoided looking at him. The silly nickname had felt good, too good. There was nothing intimate about the word smalls, but, for some stupid reason, it felt like I’d just been inducted into this family of two. Ethan called Carson, Squirt, more than by her name; it was a term of endearment said with love and adoration for his daughter.

  “Oven’s ready,” she confirmed.

  I placed the tray on the rack and closed the door.

  “Perfect. Set the timer for thirty minutes, check that the sauce is on simmer, and we’re done.”

  “Check and check.” Carson said.

  “Wash your hands again,” I instructed.

  She jumped off the chair she was standing on, and I picked it up to move it back to the table when Ethan stepped in my way.

  “What just happened?”

  I looked behind me trying to figure out what he was talking about. Nothing seemed out of place.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You went from smiling to looking like I’d punched you in the gut.”

  “I did?” I tried to play it off.

  “Yeah, Honor, you did.”

  I tried to hide my disappointment that he’d called me by my name.

  “There it is again. Smalls, you can’t hide a damn thing. Your pretty face shows everything you’re feeling.”

  Warmth spread over me, and I wanted to deny I was pretty just to hear him say it again. Thankfully there was a chair between us because I wanted him to pull me close for another hug.

  “Will you do me a favor?” he asked, and I nodded. “No matter how embarrassing, inappropriate, or mean, tell me the last thought that ran through your head. The one you had just when you looked at me. Complete honesty.” My face flamed, and he smiled. “Yes, that thought.”

  I took in Ethan’s hopeful expression and found I couldn’t deny him. Or maybe I didn’t want to. Maybe this was part of being the new me, brave and taking what I wanted instead of being a meek bystander too afraid to rock the proverbial boat.

  Fuck it. Here goes nothing.

  “I was thinking I was grateful there was a chair between us because now that your vest is off I wish I could feel your hard ch
est pressed against me.”

  If it was possible, my cheeks burned hotter, but Ethan didn’t give me time before he moved the chair, the legs scraping on the tile floor, and yanked my hand until I was flush against him, my breasts smashed between us. He lowered his head to whisper in my ear.

  “Smalls, I’ve been doing nothing all day but thinking about how good you’d feel pressed up against me.” I shivered at his words. Ethan, taking that as encouragement, went on. “I’m pleased as fuck to hear you’re on the same page. But I’m not taking whatever this is between us any further until we’re both sure.”

  I nodded in appreciation and, tucked there under his arm, I felt every bit of the nickname he’d given me. He could wrap both his arms around me and engulf my entire body in his embrace. Something I’d never felt before had taken root, safety.

  He let me go as Carson came barreling back into the kitchen.

  “Are they done yet?”

  “No, darlin’ we have some time left. Let’s set the table and get the salad out.”

  “Do I have to eat the salad?” Her lips pinched together.

  “That’s up to your daddy. His rules. But if you don’t eat the salad, you’ll miss out on my homemade cheese crisps and special salad dressing.”

  “What are cheese crisps?”

  “Yummy, delicious, fried cheese. You crumble it on top of your salad and pour my super-secret-recipe dressing over them. But, if you don’t want any, more for me.”

  “Okay. I’ll try it.” Ethan was back to watching us, and I hoped I wasn’t overstepping his boundaries. “I’ll show you where the plates are,” Carson offered.

  “Perfect.”

  The two of us moved around the kitchen, gathering everything we needed to set the table. By the time we were done, dinner was ready to be served.

  I was pleased when Carson declared she loved the salad and Ethan went back for seconds. Complimenting me and Carson on how good the meatballs were.