Ashton quirked a brow. “I'm not bossy.”
“You think you're not?”
“Yes.”
Netherland shrugged as she sat down on the love seat, feeling relaxed. “Well, that's your opinion of yourself.”
“Do you think I'm bossy?”
A smile touched Netherland's lips. “Although I have to admit that I've never seen you in action, I would think being a marine colonel would demand a certain degree of bossiness, wouldn't it?”
Ashton chuckled. “Yes, a certain degree.” He took another sip of his wine. “Earlier you mentioned how often you had to move. I have one up on you. I had to move about every six months instead of every two to three years.”
Netherland sat up. “Every six months? Were you a military brat, too?”
“Kind of. I was what you would call a custody brat. After my parents' divorce I had to spend half the year with my father on the Cherokee reservation and the other half with my mother and her family wherever they happened to be. My maternal grandfather was a high-ranking officer in the army, and every year he was reassigned. Since my mother chose to live with her parents after the divorce, that meant I had to live with them when I was with her.”
Netherland nodded, finding the story of his childhood fascinating but sad. He was right. He'd had it worse than she had. “If you spent half the year on the reservation and the other half with your mother and grandparents, how were you educated?”
“Luckily I was able to keep up with the two different educations as well as the two vastly different cultures, but it wasn't easy. Like you, whenever I had to make another move I left not only friends but family and cultures behind, as well.” One day he would tell her how his grandparents had tried, during the six months he spent with them, to make him forget he was part Indian. He couldn't speak the language around them or do anything to remind them that their grandson had two heritages.
“Then why, Ashton? Why did you choose a life in the military? Knowing how unstable your childhood had been, why didn't you seek stability in your life when you got the chance?”
Ashton walked away from the desk and came and sat next to Netherland on the love seat. She was so absorbed in hearing his response she didn't notice at first. When she did, it was too late. He was sitting so close to her that his thigh was touching hers. So close that she could see the irises of his eyes.
“My main reason, which I'm sure was the same for your father and brothers, was a sense of doing something for my country. I'm a product of two heritages but foremost, I consider myself an American. I love this country and will defend it until the end. And believe it or not, the military gave me all those things I missed out on having while growing up. My stable home was being part of the marines. In that home I obtained a family that included every other marine. In my early days there, during boot camp, I met two men who today are closer to me than any blood brothers could be.”
“Trevor?”
Ashton nodded. “Yes, Trevor is one, and the other is a man by the name of Drake Warren, whom we fondly call Sir Drake.” He smiled. “Hopefully, you'll get a chance to meet Sir Drake when he arrives for the christening of Trevor and Corinthians's baby. He's one of the godfathers.”
Netherland lifted an arched brow. “Just how many godfathers will this baby have?”
“Three.”
“Three?”
“Yes. Sir Drake, Dex Madaris and myself.”
Netherland nodded. She wasn't surprised to hear Dex Madaris's name among them. Everyone knew that Clayton's brother Dex and Trevor had been friends since childhood.
“Who's the godmother? Or should I say godmothers?”
“As far as I know there's only one godmother. Corinthians's best friend Brenna St. Johns, or Brenna Jordache since I understand she recently got married.”
Netherland nodded. Although she didn't know Corinthians's best friend Brenna personally, she had heard from Syneda how the woman had gone on a three-week cruise and met the man of her dreams on the ship and married him.
Netherland was about to take another sip and noticed her glass was empty.
“Want some more?”
She looked at Ashton, again noticing how close they were sitting on the love seat. “No, I think I've had enough.” Netherland looked down at her empty glass before raising curious eyes to Ashton. There was something she wanted to ask him, something that had been bugging her all day.
“Why did you volunteer to be a part of the Brothers Auction?”
Ashton studied her, remembering something Trevor had said. “Does it bother you that I did?”
Inhaling deeply, she blew out her breath in a rush. How could she explain to him that yes, it did bother her and make him understand why it did, when she didn't fully understand it herself? She had no dibs on him, and he was free to do as he pleased with whomever he pleased. “It shouldn't.”
He looked at her, met her gaze intently. “Does it?”
Netherland hated that he was making her admit to something she didn't want to admit to. A part of her wanted to lie to him and say, “No, it doesn't matter.” But another part, the part that had asked the question earlier of why he had volunteered to do it, still wanted an answer. “Yes, it matters.”
He was silent for a moment as he continued to hold her gaze. “And why does it matter, Netherland?”
Netherland bristled slightly. She had answered several of his questions and he had yet to answer one of hers. “It just does, okay,” she said curtly. “Now will you tell me why you volunteered to do it?”
He reached out and traced a finger along her cheek. “The reason I did it was that I thought the money was being raised for a good cause and that my participation would be my contribution. You contributed by volunteering the use of your restaurant.”
Netherland nodded. “So your volunteering had nothing to do with…”
When she didn't complete her question, he raised a dark brow. “Had nothing to do with what?”
She looked at him. “Knowing all those women would want you and that one of them will get the chance to spend a weekend with you in New Orleans.”
Ashton wanted to pull her closer. He wanted to tell her that the only woman who would be spending that weekend with him would be she. What Netherland didn't know was that he had devised a plan and had given someone strict orders to top the highest bid, no matter what it was. In essence, that person would be bidding on his behalf. There was no rule that said a contestant could not bid on himself and present the winning bid to the woman of his choice. He had no intention of letting any woman choose him. He would be the one doing the choosing.
“The notion of spending time with a woman had nothing to do with it, Netherland,” he said finally. “Because no matter what those other women may want, you are the only woman that I want.” Instinctively he pulled her closer to him. “You are the only woman who matters.”
Netherland wanted to tell him that although she'd wanted to hear those words, she shouldn't be the only one who mattered because there would never be a future for them as long as he was in the military. But she couldn't force herself to say the words. The only thing she could do was to continue to look into the darkness of his eyes and see how the lighting from a nearby lamp shone on his features making them more profound, more handsome. As he continued to look at her she felt that same jolt of awareness she had felt the first time she had met him, nearly three years ago, and the same jolt she felt upon seeing him every time since then. Around her he generated heat, electricity, desire.
Without a word she tilted