She’d always told herself that photography was just a hobby. The thought of pursuing it on a professional level had crossed her mind once or twice, but her lack of experience and education had held her back. Better to call it something she did in her spare time and leave it as that.

But who was she kidding? Photography was her one and only passion, the only thing in her life that made her feel contented and confident. Cash was right. She couldn’t make excuses any longer. She chose to work at pointless dead-end jobs not because she didn’t have any other options, not because she sucked at everything else, but because she was too scared to pursue the one thing that made her happy.

Biting her lip, she paused in the middle of the living room, wishing Cash would come home already so she could explain that she wasn’t angry with him, but with herself. For being a damn scaredy-cat and letting her parents and her own self-doubt hold her back for so long.

Where the hell is he?

She stalked into the kitchen to check the time, frowning when she noticed it was past eight already. He was supposed to meet Brendan at six thirty, and she couldn’t imagine the confrontation lasting this long.

And that was another thing—why had he insisted on confronting her ex-boyfriend? Cash possessed some serious protective instincts, but she got the feeling this was about more than protecting her. This was about him…staking a claim.

Her teeth dug deeper into her lower lip. Was Cash developing deeper feelings for her?

Was she developing deeper feelings for him?

No, of course not. This was just a fling. A fling that would end in a week and a half.

Does it have to?

Did it?

Yes.

Well, maybe.

She took pause, weighing the notion in her head. Her cheeks scorched as she thought about all the spectacular sex they’d been having. And the threesome…God, the threesome. Her body still tingled at the memory, and yet as amazing as last night had been, she wasn’t looking for a repeat performance. A fantasy fulfilled, that was how she viewed it, and she couldn’t see the whole ménage thing becoming a habit.

Besides, Cash McCoy didn’t need outside assistance to satisfy her. The man was perfectly capable of driving her wild all by his lonesome.

But his superior bedroom skills weren’t the only things she liked about him. He might be gruff and intense at times, but he was also funny, sweet, smart…and a military man to the core. He’d confessed his desire to go to officer school, which told her he was committed to the military life, and he was still young, which meant he had at least another decade or two before he rode a desk at the base.

Regret rippled through her. No matter how much she liked Cash, she didn’t want that kind of life. She’d already watched her mother struggle, and now she had to watch her sister-in-law suffer the same fate, spending long stretches apart from her husband, unable to talk to him anymore because they felt like strangers.

When a knock came on the door, Jen made a beeline for the front hall, needing the distraction. She peered into the peephole and found her brother’s cloudy blue eyes staring back at her. Instantly, her mood sank even lower. She hadn’t spoken to Carson since she and Cash had witnessed his coffee date with that redhead, and she was not looking forward to the argument that lay ahead.

“What’s up?” Carson said once she let him in. “Your messages sounded cryptic. All seven of them.”

He looked annoyed as he followed her into the living room. “Want something to drink?” she asked, stalling.

“No.” He flopped down on the couch and glanced around warily. “Where’s McCoy?”

She sighed. “Being a hero.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means the big, bad soldier is determined to have it out with Brendan.” She settled in the armchair and tucked her knees into her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “Brendan managed to get my cell number from Tessa.”

“Psycho McGee was bothering Tessa? And Cash is meeting with him now? Where?”

When her brother started to get up, Jen said, “Oh, sit down already. Cash is probably on his way home, so you’d be too late to back him up.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

Suspicion crept into his voice. “Why did McCoy go after Brendan?”

“He’s just being a good friend.” She quickly changed the subject before he could grill her further. “I talked to Holly, by the way.”

Carson’s shoulders stiffened. “When?”

“Sunday, after we left Mom and Dad’s house. She told me you two aren’t connecting.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Jenny.” Visible discomfort creased her brother’s features.

“Tough shit, because you’re going to.”

She took a breath. How on earth did she even start? Hey, big brother, are you cheating on your wife? The direct approach probably would be best, but a part of her didn’t want to ask the question for fear of what his answer would be.

Exhaling, she slid her knees down and placed her palms on her thighs. “Look, I need to ask you something. I know it’s none of my business, but I—”

A cell phone rang.

She suppressed a groan as Carson held up his hand and said, “I gotta get this.” He fished his phone out of his pocket. “Hey, Beck, what’s doing?”

Jen’s heart dropped. Beck. Thomas Becker, Carson’s CO.

Carson listened for a few seconds, a frown marring his mouth. The frown deepened the longer Becker talked, and then Carson said, “Fucking hell!” and shot to his feet. “Yeah, I’ll meet you there.”