Page 1 of Her Naughty Soldier

Chapter 1

Ethan

Thecabpullsupto Jake's place in Larkspur, its tires crunching over the gravel driveway. It's a modest two-story, its white paint job a bit weathered, nestled in a neighborhood where every house has its own quirks and stories. The big oak tree in the front yard, now towering and lush, is the same one Jake and I used to climb as kids.

I pay the driver and step out, pausing to take it all in. There's a comfort in the familiarity, a sense of returning to something untouched by time. But it's different now; I'm different. The scars, visible and not, are proof of that.

Leaning against the cab for a moment, I catch a glimpse of myself in its rearview mirror. The hazel eyes staring back at me hold stories they didn't before. The Seven Sisters Healing Center was supposed to be a new start, a way to leave the military and all its ghosts behind. It helped, in ways I can't put into words, but some things, you don't just leave behind.

You carry them with you, learn to live with them.

I sling my duffel bag over my shoulder, feeling the weight of it in my hand. It's more than just clothes and essentials in there; it's the weight of starting over and trying to fit back into a world that kept spinning while I stood still.

The front door of Jake's house looms ahead, familiar yet foreign. I take a deep breath, feeling the tightness in my chest. This isn't just a visit. It's a stepping stone to whatever comes next. A chance to rebuild, maybe even find some peace.

I knock on the door, the sound echoing in the quiet afternoon. There’s no answer, but there is something… faint music drifting from the backyard.

Resigning myself to the fact that no one is going to answer the door—Jake always was a bit absentminded and probably forgot I was coming today—I decide to investigate. I round the corner of the house, following the upbeat rhythm that seems so out of place in the still afternoon. The music grows louder with each step, a pop tune I can't quite place, but it's catchy, the kind that gets stuck in your head.

The backyard is a familiar terrain transformed. There, standing like an anomaly amidst the well-tended lawn, is a shed. But not the kind of shed I remember. This one's alive with color, its exterior painted in vibrant hues that clash and dance in the sunlight. The windows are thrown open, and the music spills out like an invitation. It's whimsical, almost out of a fairytale, and so distinctly... girly.

I approach, a mix of wariness and intrigue battling inside me. My hand hovers over the handle, hesitating. This isn't my world, not by a long shot. But then, what is anymore?

Pushing down the apprehension, I open the door. The scene inside hits me like a wave. Every surface is splattered with paint, a kaleidoscope of colors that defy the drabness of my own life. Canvases, both finished and not, crowd the space, each one a window into a world I can barely comprehend.

And there, in the midst of it all, is a figure, her back to me, lost in the rhythm of the music and the stroke of her brush. Auburn hair, wavy and untamed, falls over her shoulders. Her stance is confident, sexy curves outlined against a backdrop of canvas and color. Even from behind, there's something familiar about her that tugs at a memory I can't quite grasp.

I clear my throat, the sound rough against the melody surrounding us. She doesn't hear me, or if she does, she's too engrossed in her art to care. I take a step closer, the floorboards creaking under my weight, and that's when she turns.

She whirls around, her bright blue eyes wide with surprise—or is it expectation? Before I can introduce myself, she's upon me with a blatant disregard for personal space.

“You're finally here! I thought you were going to bail on me,” she exclaims, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Her hands are on my jacket before I even fully process her words, tugging at the zipper with an eagerness that throws me off balance.

“Whoa, hold on there,” I manage, my hands catching hers in a gentle but firm grip. Confusion mixes with a spark of something else, something I haven't felt in a while.

She pauses, her gaze flicking up to meet mine, a blush creeping into her cheeks. “Aren't you the model I hired for today's session?” she asks, a hint of uncertainty creeping into her voice.

I can't help but chuckle despite the absurdity of the situation. “Afraid not. I'm Ethan, Jake's friend.”

The realization dawns on her, and her expression shifts from playful to mortified. “Oh my God, I am so sorry. I just assumed...”

“It's alright,” I say, releasing her hands, which I notice are stained with paint. “Easy mistake.”

She steps back, running a hand through her hair, her embarrassment palpable. “I knew you were coming, but Jake didn't mention it was today.”

Her laugh is nervous but genuine, easing the tension a bit. I find myself smiling despite the unconventional introduction. Beyond the initial shock, there's something about her that feels refreshingly real.

“I guess we both got a surprise,” I reply, taking in her studio with a newfound curiosity. “You're an artist?”

She nods, a proud lift to her chin. “Yeah, this is my sanctuary.”

“Well,” I say, a hint of warmth seeping into my tone. “You definitely know how to make a first impression.”

“More like a second impression,” she points out.

My brows furrow in confusion. “Second? Have we met before?”

“I’m Lily, Jake’s little sister.”

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