with one.” She smiled. “Military men are some of the bossiest men I know.”
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