Tiger's Lily

by Cheyenne Meadows

  A gasp escaped at his accusations.

  "Cale!" Dillon sat up, growling at his older brother, arm reaching out to interject.

  Lily waved at the younger brother, giving him a quick nod, indicating for him to stay put. She could handle the situation and those gruff accusations. For a long moment, she debated the wisdom of arguing with the hyena, but decided enough was enough. "Listen, soap for brains, I'll have you know that I have no romantic interest in Carson." A snicker sounded from the bed as Dillon reacted to her name-calling. Ignoring it, she plunged ahead. "He's a friend, a very good one, and one that I will be forever grateful to for helping me when I needed it the most."

  Tiger stood tall and glared down at her. "Don't give me that shit. I saw the way you looked at him when he left and the hug you gave him. Call it what you want, but your actions say different."

  Stomping her foot in agitation, Lily stepped forward, nearly snarling at the cranky brother. "I look at him like a mentor, like someone that I look up to. Yes, I care for the man. Like I would a brother or a close friend. Hugs are allowed among friends if both parties are acceptable to the affection. I adore his wife. In fact, we're best friends. If you don't believe me, call him up and ask. Or, even better, call up Casey. She will set you straight."

  Shooting him another glare, Lily left the room before she would do something dire like kick the man in the shin and end up tied to the front door as a consequence of messing with the ogre and losing. Besides, piles of laundry called. She needed to make the sofa into a bed for the night, the cats had yet to be fed, and tomorrow's meal preparation started today. Unfortunately, none of those chores would do themselves.

  Chapter 4

  Lily woke with a purring sound and a paw patting her face. Blinking, it took her a moment to recall she slept on the sleeper sofa in the living room as Dillon occupied her one and only bed. Her glow in the dark watch read a few minutes past five.

  "Let me guess. You and the babies are hungry again?" Automatically, she stroked her fingers over the calico's face and down her back. She learned a while back that sleeping wouldn't happen if Hope didn't want it. The cat ruled the house and all its occupants whether she knew it or not. Who was she kidding? Hope realized that and ruled with regality. With a sigh, she climbed out of bed, heading for the kitchen and canned cat food. At least Hope seemed to have taken the invasion in stride. She didn't appear nervous or pensive with the appearance of the guys. With any luck, it would stay that way. She worked too hard and spent more than she could afford to get that cat back to a healthy state. No way would she let anything interfere with that now.

  "Brrrr." Rubbing her arms, she made a quick stop at the thermostat, turning the heat up a bit. She purposely kept the setting low to help ease the electric bill due to her strained budget with the record low temperatures they were experiencing this November. But she really couldn't expect to freeze her guests, either. With a sigh, she grabbed up breakfast for her small brood.

  No sooner had she opened the cans, then the kittens along with mother, dashed over to busily inhale their early morning breakfast. The high calorie canned kitten food cost an arm and a leg each time at the vet's office, but she couldn't refuse them. Not when they obviously loved the stuff. Even though she kept a large bowl full of dry kitten morsels, they much preferred the wet food. Like a kid faced with eating broccoli who ate everything else first. Taking a moment to watch the furry family, she glanced back at her watch. "Time for antibiotics."

  She walked over to the small spare refrigerator that Carson brought which held the IV antibiotics that had to be kept chilled. Selecting the correct variety, she carried it quietly into the bedroom.

  Dillon slept on his right side, curled up to face the door. He looked like a teenager, a baby face people would call him. Way too young to be in such a dangerous profession.

  Cale slept on his other side in the large bed, his back to his brother. Not near the youth and innocence, but his face lost the continuous scowl in rest, making him all the more handsome and approachable. If only he smiled. She had offered him the sleeper sofa last night, which he immediately declined, refusing to leave Dillon. Not that she blamed him. She also pointed out that the king sized bed had more than enough room for them both. There was no sense in sleeping on a cold hardwood floor when you didn't have to. He must have agreed considering his position at the moment.

  With a shrug, Lily quietly moved to the IV pump that Carson provided. The only one owned by the small clinic and a necessary tool for her. It would alarm if the fluids ran out or if there was a problem with his IV line. So much better than just running everything on gravity like the old days. Half the time the IV would slow down and clot off, or, just the opposite, it would run really well and the bag would be empty in no time. Trying to keep a continuous set amount going on a gravity IV drip was never easy or exact.

  "It's just me, Dillon. Time for your next antibiotic. I'll just get it going and let you sleep." She whispered down to the man, afraid of startling him awake with her close presence. Military types and men of war probably had built in reflexes to take someone down if not completely out if they got too close when a man snapped awake.

  The man in question mumbled but didn't bother to open his eyes. She smiled, but quickly went about putting the syringe full of medication on the machine and programming it to infuse. That task complete, her attention fell to the two men once more.

  "Nice pajamas." Cale muttered from his side of the bed.

  Lily blinked, a bit surprised that he was not only awake, but that he addressed her. The man probably slept like a wolf, waking up with each and every sound and motion. Predator. The billing fit him.

  She glanced down at her light blue pajamas covered with animated kittens in all shapes, sizes, colors, poses, and activities, and shrugged. They were comfortable, and who didn't like kittens? The hoarse words could have been either amusement or sarcasm. She opted for the former. "Thanks."

  When no further comments followed, she tiptoed out of the bedroom, heading for the kitchen to get an early start on her baking.

  A couple hours later, she finally heard rustling coming from the bedroom. Pulling the freshly made cinnamon rolls from the oven, she called over her shoulder. "Your clothes are clean and hanging in the laundry room. Breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes."

  No one answered her, but she caught a glimpse of a tall man in scrubs striding through the house, presumably looking for suitable day clothing to wear. She did the very same thing not too long ago, pulling on old worn jeans and a sweatshirt. Warm and comfortable.

  She set about preparing breakfast, fixing a large batch of scrambled eggs, toast, and sausage, having absolutely no idea what they liked or wanted to eat. Since the whole world minus her seemed to require coffee in the mornings, she set the unused java maker in the corner to working with the flavored variety she picked up the day before on impulse. Some people remained cross and as sociable as a crocodile with a sore tail until they had a few cups of the strong liquid.

  A loud grunt sent her dashing around the corner. The scene had her skidding to a halt and hollering, her lungs clenching in panic. "The babies!"

  Dillon wobbled on crutches still wearing the scrubs he went to sleep in last night, trying to negotiate a path to the kitchen while avoiding the six week old kittens under foot. "Watch it!" He called down to them, listing heavily to his injured leg side, but they simply swatted at his foot.

  Deftly, Cale reached around Dillon's leg, scooping the girls out of danger's way while wrapping an arm around his waist, stabilizing and steadying him until Dillon regained his balance. The metal pole holding the IV pump stopped where Cale released it.

  "Thanks, bro."

  "No problem."

  Dillon continued on his way, the path now cleared of any obstacle that might impede his progress.

  Once Dillon had made his way to the kitchen, Cale gently set both kittens on the floor, giving them a quick stroke down each of their backs.

  Lil
y breathed a sigh of relief, thankful for Cale's quick hands and thinking. Otherwise, Dillon could have taken a harsh fall or one of the kittens could have been stepped on, or worse. She didn't want to think about that. Instead, she pasted on a cheery smile. "I didn't expect to see you up and out of bed so soon."

  A bit out of breath, Dillon hobbled to the nearest chair, pulled it out, and plopped down loudly. "I need to get moving. Can't lay around in a bed all day. Not if I want to get better."

  "True. But, don't push yourself too hard. Okay? I don't want you to suffer a setback."

  Cale pulled out the seat beside his brother. "He needs his butt kicked, not babied." Unlike Dillon, Cale dressed in all black, an outfit Lily had washed when they arrived.

  Lily turned back to the stove, setting the hot meal before them. "I wasn't sure what you guys wanted or liked. And I have homemade cinnamon rolls, too."

  Dillon shoveled some eggs on his plate, then stabbed a sausage round, sticking it in his mouth. "This is wonderful."

  "I guess I did okay, then."

  Both men nodded, too busy eating to talk.

  Lily took the remaining chair, absently placing food on her own plate. With such broad shouldered and big boned men, Lily felt a bit like a gazelle amidst a whole herd of wildebeests. Not that the men were ugly and scruffy, quite the opposite. Strong chins, sharp eyes, and pronounced bone structure spoke of good genes and high intelligence. They were more like the alpha lions of a pride than a shaggy hoofed wildebeest.

  A soft squeak broke the silence. Cale looked down by his leg. "What do you want, cat?"

  Lily glanced under the table. Hope decided to visit, standing with her front legs on Cale's leg, outright begging for food. "She doesn't care for eggs, but would probably eat the sausage." Pretty much any time Lily cooked, Hope made sure to check out the tidings, eating what she liked, and sticking her nose up at the rest. For an animal nearly starved to death three months ago, she now proved downright picky, walking away from foods typically craved by cats including the famous favorite feline treat: tuna.

  Without hesitation, Cale grabbed his paper towel, cut up a lump of meat, and placed it on the floor. The cat immediately dived in, chewing with gusto.

  Dillon smiled at the scene to his left. "Eats you out of house and home, huh?"

  "You have no idea." Lily shook her head with a small grin.

  "Doc said you didn't have any plans for Thanksgiving?" Dillon asked between bites of his scrambled eggs.

  Surprised, she stared at Dillon.

  He grinned. "I was shot in the leg. Nothing wrong with my ears."

  She returned his expression before sobering. Setting her fork down, she took a moment to wipe her mouth with the towel. "My mother passed away in February of this year. I don't have any other living relatives."

  Cale looked over his plate at her, but remained mute. Dillon's mouth pinched in concern. "I'm sorry to hear that."

  "Thanks."

  "Your father?"

  "He was killed in the line of duty as a beat cop. Bank robbery gone bad." Her voice fell flat at the blaring reminder of how alone she really was in the world.

  "How old were you?" Cale's deep drawl entered into the conversation.

  "Fourteen."

  He gave a swift nod. "That explains the Glock in the top drawer of your nightstand."

  Not completely surprised, Lily released an exaggerated gasp. "You fondled my underwear? Isn't that some sort of fetish or perversion or something?" She fought back a smile, but lost.

  Dillon chuckled. Cale's lips twitched.

  Lily rolled her eyes at him, enjoying the byplay and thawing of his frozen demeanor. "I don't think you will fit in my undies. Besides, I'm not sure baby ducklings and bunnies are quite your style."

  Dillon cracked up. Cale released a snort followed by an amused chuckle, the grin making him all the more handsome.

  Lily patted herself on the back for the minor accomplishment and dared not delve too deeply into her motives of trying to get this particular man to experience happiness in life.

  "What about you guys? Any family?" Unsure what they could or would share, Lily threw out the generic question. "Have any pets that rule your life?" She glanced at Hope who sat on her haunches, licked her lips, and meowed at Cale once more, receiving another tasty reward for her efforts.

  Cale took the lead on this one. "Parents, yes. Demanding pets, no."

  Biting her lip, Lily tossed out another pitch. "Underwear fetish?"

  Those light blue eyes sparked with emotion while the corners of his mouth curved upwards. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

  The low timbre of his voice plucked at deep nerves, causing her belly to do a slow somersault. Lily's face heated as she began to fan herself with a free hand. Both men laughed at her obvious embarrassment. "Heathens." She muttered under her breath, taking a sip of juice to hopefully cool her down a bit.

  * * * *

  Dillon sat back with a sense of wonder listening to his older brother spar with the young nurse. For the past several years he rarely saw anything resembling the wry sense of humor Cale possessed as a kid. Life beat it out of him. Yet, here they sat, in an old rock house in the middle of nowhere, eating cinnamon rolls, feeding table scraps to an already plump cat, and Cale smiled and laughed like the days of old.

  Not for the first time, Dillon cursed the evil witch known as Rachel. Anger rolled his stomach at just the whisper of that name. The woman who yanked Cale around by his love handle and ended up burning him every chance she got. The divorce proved drawn out and particularly nasty, but at least there were no children to fight over. Rachel refused to have any, citing that she didn't want to become fat and ugly as she believed other woman did after bearing children. How his brother could love that woman remained a mystery to everyone. All that woman cared for was herself, her clothing, and spending every penny Cale could bring home on nonsensical baubles. Cale risked life and limb each day just to keep that bitch in the manner she demanded. An absolutely useless human being, in his opinion.

  After the divorce wrapped up, Cale threw himself into his work, taking the most dangerous jobs in their private sector para-military specializations. Dillon worried often that Cale would get himself killed one day. At the pace and aggressiveness levels he lived at for the past two years, it seemed almost inevitable. But, money wasn't worth the life of his older brother and that was a sure fact.

  In all honesty, he wanted to move on to another career, somewhere more stable and safe where he and Della could settle down and raise a family. Riches weren't required, just enough to keep them going. The American dream. His dream didn't include looking down on a compound with the scope of his sniper rifle patiently waiting for all Hell to break loose. No. Deep down, he knew this was his last mission. No longer did he have the dedication or desire to keep tackling the scum of the earth, never knowing when he would eat, rest, or die. When a man lost his edge and want for such a life, then he ended up getting himself and others killed. Thus, it was time to get out. Della deserved a husband by her side and a father to the kids he hoped to one day have.

  A low chuckle from Cale caught his attention. By some stroke of good fortune, they had been thrown into Lily's life and home. His brother, for the first time in years, relaxed and actually bantered with a woman, his surly attitude solidly on the back shelf this morning. Promising.

  After thinking for a long moment, Dillon formulated the beginnings of a plan. It just might work. He worried Cale would spiral downwards, throwing caution to the wind, without Dillon to watch his back. I will make it work.

  "Why do they call you Bugle?" Lily's question pulled him back into the conversation.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but Cale beat him to it. "He looked like a young, smooth faced kid that had never once used a razor on his face. Like the bugle boys the army used to have during the Revolutionary War."

  "And what did you call Carson? Mayberry?"

  "He's from a small rural town where no one locked their doors
and everyone knew everyone else's business."

  Lily took a sip of her juice, then met his gaze. "He won't tell me, I'm sure. Why do they call him Tiger?"

  Cale glanced warningly at him, but Dillon only grinned mockingly in return. "Oh, there could be a few explanations for that."

  "It's because I stalk my prey and hunt alone." Cale tossed out, his voice gruff with irritation.

  Dillon leaned in close enough to stage whisper to Lily. "Personally, I think it's because, like most cats, tigers can lick themselves."

  Lily tittered. Dillon yelped when Cale kicked his shin under the table.

  "Brat." Cale shook his head, but couldn't suppress the bright amusement plastered on his face.

  Yes, definitely worth a try. Sinking his teeth in a hot roll, Dillon couldn't refrain the low moan of pleasure the pastry brought his taste buds. "Oh, man." Sweet and hot, the treat nearly melted in his mouth. Granted, he hadn't eaten homemade cinnamon rolls in years, but this was simply a taste of Heaven.

  An echoing sound of pleasure mimicked his own. Cale closed his eyes and savored the first bite, obviously agreeing whole heartedly with Dillon's own assessment. "You can certainly cook, I'll give you that."

  Lily beamed at the praise. "My mother worked at a bakery for years. She taught me how to make all kinds of things."

  Dillon met Cale's eyes and smiled to himself. The way to a man's heart was rumored to be through his stomach. If anyone could get to Cale, it would be Lily and her decadent desserts. But, sometimes, even miracles needed a helping hand. One he was more than prepared to lend.

  Chapter 5

  An angry hiss carried across the space, filling in the companionable silence following breakfast.

  Lily turned from the dishwasher where she busily stacked dirty dishes. "Oh, boy. Here we go again."

  Cale glanced over to the living room, watching the small kittens arch backs, growl, and pounce toward one another. In a matter of seconds, Faith jumped on top of Charity and the wrestling match began. Tufts of fur flew as the girls dived in, trying to pin the other down, gain the advantage, and win the present skirmish.