Книга церемоний. Шаманская мудрость для пробуждения сакрального в повседневности. Сандра Ингерман

it longevity, since he’d lived here longer than any other place? Maybe the fact that he owned a little cottage on the outskirts of Villa Rosa? More for a place to store his parents’ things than because he wanted a tax write-off.

      Whatever it was, it wasn’t sentiment. Aiden was too smart to make decisions based on vague feelings of longing or silly emotions.

      Yet, that morning he’d left Coronado Naval Base with a vague plan to take the first plane heading somewhere hot. But he’d hit the airport, and found himself asking for a ticket to San Francisco instead. From there, he’d rented a car and drove the three hours north.

      And he still wasn’t sure why.

      He just knew something was missing, off.

      What, he hadn’t figured out.

      Yet.

      Driving through the narrow, familiar streets, Aiden watched the people, recognizing many of them. So if he was home, as per some definitions of the concept, why was he still so unsatisfied? What the hell was wrong with him?

      Stopped at a red light, he scrubbed one hand over his face and sighed. Or maybe he’d just sleep. Damn, he was tired. This last mission had been a bitch. Rough enough to have him entertaining the rare thought of hanging up his naval uniform and doing something else.

      Something chill.

      Like sleeping.

      That could be the fact that other than zoning out on the hour-long flight, he hadn’t had any shut-eye in about two days. No biggie. Aiden was used to operating at peak efficiency under less-than-ideal circumstances.

      Still, sleep would be good.

      Or maybe his bunkmate, Castillo, had been right when he’d told Aiden to go get laid on leave.

      Sex had definite appeal.

      But sex in Villa Rosa? Not such a hot idea.

      He returned a couple of waves, even though he didn’t know the people’s names. Of course, they probably didn’t know his either. In a town the size of Villa Rosa, waves didn’t tend to be personal. They were more a random greeting offered to friend and stranger alike. Or a warning that yes, they’d seen his vehicle and were noting his license number. Just in case.

      Or maybe too much time in the Middle East, facing distrust, destruction and despair had gotten to him.

      Maybe that’s why he’d felt the need to see this place. Because nothing in his life was personal, and he was starting to wonder why.

      Including sex.

      His stomach growled, making itself heard over the Stones pounding out of the radio. A timely reminder that once he reached the cottage, his cupboards were gonna be bare.

      So when the light turned green, he turned left instead of going straight, deciding to get a few things to tide him over. At least until tomorrow, when he’d visit the Professor and get some real food.

      Thinking of the old guy made him smile. It’d be good to catch up. Visit. Talk about things that required brains, not brawn. Get his ass kicked at chess and expand his mind a little. He could always count on Professor Lee Taylor for all of that.

      Parking in front of the small grocer’s, Aiden pocketed the keys and headed for beer and cereal. All he’d need, he decided, to last until he could hit the old guy up for eggs Benedict in the morning.

      “Well, well, look at the soldier boy.”

      Aiden glanced over as a bruiser the size of Lieutenant Castillo and twice as ugly sauntered over. It took less than a second to place him. Two years older than Aiden and three grades behind, the star of the football team had a reputation for being an ass to the ladies.

      “Aren’t you supposed to wear a little white uniform or something, Soldier Boy?” the guy asked as he reached Aiden.

      “That’s sailor, not soldier, and I’m off duty,” Aiden responded quietly, sliding the guy a sideways glance that didn’t pack any more punch than he’d offer any other asshole who was in his way.

      The guy blinked a couple of times, then shifted a step to the right, putting a little distance between them and lifted both hands as if in surrender.

      “Dude, no offense. Just wanted to stop you and say congratulations,” the guy said, slapping Aiden on the back. His just-this-side-of-nasty grin and the extra force of that slap were in keeping with Aiden’s memory of him being a dickhead. “You caught yourself a wild one. Good luck taming her.”

      Taming who?

      Aiden didn’t ask, though. He had a policy against engaging dickheads. Instead, he offered a dismissive smile and kept moving toward the grocery store.

      He didn’t make it through the automatic doors before he was grabbed by a very large, very plush woman who he thought he might have taken a piano lesson from once in first grade.

      Before he could ask what the hell was up, she started babbling and blubbering at the same time, pulling him into a hug that smelled like cinnamon rolls.

      “Oh, Aiden, I’m so happy for you. Congratulations. You’re a lucky man.” She leaned back to pat his cheeks with both of her plump hands, smiling so wide he didn’t have the heart to let her know she was crazy. “After all this time, you’ll have a family again. Such a blessing.”

      He’d been seventeen when his parents were killed. He was thirty years old now. Hardly a helpless orphan then, or now. So what was she talking about, he’d have a family? Afraid to find out, Aiden smiled instead and mumbled a thanks. His stomach growling, he quickly extricated himself and headed into the store.

      A minute later, six-pack in hand, he headed for the cereal aisle.

      “Aiden? Aiden Masters?”

      Hanging his head, wondering why he’d thought Villa Rosa was a good place to rest, Aiden sighed then turned. A little of the edgy exhaustion faded at the sight of Sergeant Gary Davis, a local cop and a great guy.

      The two men came together in a solid chest-bumping hug, shaking hands and grinning at each other as they took stock of how each had held up over time.

      “I haven’t seen you since you stood as best man at my wedding.”

      Right. Gary had married that little redhead, AnaMaria.

      “What’s that been? Two years,” Aiden calculated. “I wanted to make it back last year for Eric’s wedding but I was on duty.”

      On a rescue mission gone miserably wrong, Aiden remembered. They’d lost one guy, almost lost another to the aftereffects. He ground his teeth at the memory, trying to shrug off the tight bands of stress gripping him. Brody Lane was back on duty, engaged to be married, even. The team was solid. Carrying the weight of missions past only weighed on a guy, Aiden knew. So, as he always did, he made himself focus on the here and now.

      Which was his high school buddy, who was nodding, his grin widening as if he were thinking of just how good those couple of married years had been.

      “Guess we’ll be celebrating your wedding soon, right?”

      Huh? Aiden squinted, wondering if his old friend had taken a few head shots. He’d have thought Villa Rosa was a pretty mellow place, but you never knew.

      “I’m impressed,” Gary said, shaking his head as if baffled was a better term. “If there was a pool over whom everyone thought was least likely to marry, I swear it’d have been a tie between the two of you. And now you’re getting together?”

      Again...huh? A surreptitious sniff assured him that Gary hadn’t taken to drinking on the job.

      So what the hell was he talking about?

      Before Aiden could ask, the radio on Gary’s belt crackled. The sergeant responded, then gave Aiden a gotta go look.

      “Congrats, man,” his buddy said as he headed down the aisle. “I know some people