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He had little memory of waking up in the hospital, but he could recall every expression of concern his doctors and nurses wore when they looked at him. He despised being a sad case. Hated even more the reason why he actually was one.
Family? None. SEAL squadron? Mostly deceased. Killed in one horrific strike.
The woman’s voice was soft and musical—but that was all the consideration he’d give her. Every word out of her mouth irritated the hell out of him.
Was this what civilian life was like? If so, he might consider reenlisting. Putting up with terrorists beat out boring conversations.
Fuck. He was really a civilian. Each time the realization smacked him, he felt just as lost as he had the day when he signed on the dotted line, ending his time in the service.
He’d planned to stay in the military for life. When he got too old, they’d force him into retirement and he’d pack his bags and head for Mexico, to live in one of those ex-pat communities. He could walk the beach every morning and live out his days on whatever small plot of peace he could hold on to.
Now he was headed to Montana to work on a ranch, of all things. He was no cowpoke, but guarding the place he could do. While his buddy hadn’t fully disclosed the nature of the threat, Hunter knew it must be substantial for Colton to extend the offer at all.
Something nudged his foot, and he snapped open his eyes to look down at the tiny boot nudging his own.
The woman across the aisle from him yanked her foot back under her own seat. Her knee bounced a couple times before coming to a stop. But that action drew Hunter’s attention to her body.
Namely, her curvy calf clad in black stretchy cotton. His gaze moved downward to her dainty ankle hugged by her black leather boot. Good leather, no doubt. Expensive. Probably Italian.
He let out a grunt, and she whipped her head to pierce him in her glare.
“I’m sorry my foot nudged yours. I was merely stretching my leg.” Her snippy tone only edged under his skin more.
He eyed her for a long moment until she forced her attention back to the guy beside her, who had been hanging on her every word about the places she’d visited and the best places to stay.
Hunter read between the lines, and all he heard were cash register noises.
The princess probably had no idea what it was like to lose someone who mattered, and her idea of sacrifice was letting someone cut in front of her at the drive-thru of “Starbies”—the shortened nickname girls on social media used for the coffee chain.
Swinging his focus from the woman, Hunter examined the rest of the passengers. From what he could see over the top of the seats, most people were sleeping or engaged in activity on their phones or computer tablets.
He let his eyes slip shut again. With his eyes closed, his other senses heightened. He heard every move around him. Somebody unzipped a backpack. A light snore sounded from two rows ahead.
In the rear of the plane, the flight attendant was returning with her cart, this time distributing hot meals. He listened to her ask the same question over and over again. Chicken or fish? Chicken or fish?
Most people chose the fish. For some reason, that made him think of the woman beside him. She’d probably ask where the fish was sourced. If she wasn’t vegan.
If she weren’t an entitled princess, he would find her pretty. If he hadn’t heard her American accent, he would have placed her in one of the Scandinavian countries, with her honey-blonde hair and fair coloring.
One of the wheels on the food cart squeaked. As it grew closer, Hunter slanted a sideways glance at the woman. She was involved in an animated discussion with the German man beside her. Her long hair tumbled over one shoulder, and her elbow hung off the arm rest, projecting into the aisle.
Even when the cart rolled to the seat behind them, she didn’t slide her elbow in. She continued chatting away. “I couldn’t believe how much nightlife there was in Greece. You read all these travel blogs and think—”
The cart rolled forward.
Hunter threw out a hand, shoving the woman’s arm off the rest before the cart slammed into her elbow.
She whipped her head around. “What in the world is your problem?”
He fixed her in his stare. “I was saving your elbow from getting wrecked by that.” He jerked his thumb at the cart and the flight attendant watching both of them.
The princess scowled at Hunter. “Well. Thank you.”
Her brand of begrudging gratitude was exactly the response he’d expected from her.
He shook his head, thinking more and more that ending his career in the military was a mistake. If this was the type of life that civilians led, he was never going to fit in.
Chapter Three
