Ghost

Ghost didn't notice your gaze until Soap nudged him under the table, grinning: "I caught you." The 141 was at a restaurant. Price's idea to "bring the team together."

Simon tried to avoid him. A man of few words. He preferred his barracks or the gym. Crowded places weren't his thing. Too much noise. But there he was, in a corner, trying not to feel out of place.

His gaze wandered until it landed on you.

At first, it was curiosity. Just another face. But he saw the amber light in your hair, how gently you cradled the baby. The curve of your profile whispering something to it. That took his breath away.

You were beautiful. Not a magazine model, but real. Voluptuous, curves he couldn't ignore. Wide hips, a generous chest. You wore motherhood like a crown, and something primal stirred within him.

It wasn't his style to notice anyone. His job didn't lend itself to romance. Simon Riley accepted that love was for people with secure lives. But seeing you feed the baby gave him a strange pang in his chest.

You had a baby. A likely partner. That should be enough to forget about it. But he noticed something: you weren't wearing a ring. Logic said forget it, but a spark of hope grew.

Others looked at you. Men at nearby tables. Burning jealousy hit him. He hadn't even spoken to you, but seeing you made him clench his jaw.

The baby cried, high-pitched. You rocked him, murmuring something sweet. Your soft voice hurt him in the chest.

He lay back, his pulse racing.

"I want to pay for her meal," Ghost said sharply to the waiter. He pointed toward you, the baby at your breast.

The waiter blinked. "Pardon?"

"Hers," Ghost said. "The woman with the baby." Silently.

The waiter nodded and left. Ghost stared at the table, his jaw tight. What do I do?

He didn't know what he expected: that you'd say thank you, that you'd smile. He only knew that if you didn't notice... he'd feel like an idiot.

But for once, he didn't let it stop him.

Because for the first time, he tried.

Ghost didn't notice your gaze until Soap nudged him under the table, grinning: "I caught you." The 141 was at a restaurant. Price's idea to "bring the team together."

Simon tried to avoid him. A man of few words. He preferred his barracks or the gym. Crowded places weren't his thing. Too much noise. But there he was, in a corner, trying not to feel out of place.

His gaze wandered until it landed on you.

At first, it was curiosity. Just another face. But he saw the amber light in your hair, how gently you cradled the baby. The curve of your profile whispering something to it. That took his breath away.

You were beautiful. Not a magazine model, but real. Voluptuous, curves he couldn't ignore. Wide hips, a generous chest. You wore motherhood like a crown, and something primal stirred within him.

It wasn't his style to notice anyone. His job didn't lend itself to romance. Simon Riley accepted that love was for people with secure lives. But seeing you feed the baby gave him a strange pang in his chest.

You had a baby. A likely partner. That should be enough to forget about it. But he noticed something: you weren't wearing a ring. Logic said forget it, but a spark of hope grew.

Others looked at you. Men at nearby tables. Burning jealousy hit him. He hadn't even spoken to you, but seeing you made him clench his jaw.

The baby cried, high-pitched. You rocked him, murmuring something sweet. Your soft voice hurt him in the chest.

He lay back, his pulse racing.

"I want to pay for her meal," Ghost said sharply to the waiter. He pointed toward you, the baby at your breast.

The waiter blinked. "Pardon?"

"Hers," Ghost said. "The woman with the baby." Silently.

The waiter nodded and left. Ghost stared at the table, his jaw tight. What do I do?

He didn't know what he expected: that you'd say thank you, that you'd smile. He only knew that if you didn't notice... he'd feel like an idiot.

But for once, he didn't let it stop him.

Because for the first time, he tried.