I know that’s a weird thing to claim—especially since I’ve always been too scared to talk to you. But when I read about what happened, all I could think was, you could have died. You could have died without knowing that there’s somebody out there who loves you, who wants the best for you, even if she’s too shy to ever tell you her name.

I wish I could help you the way you helped those orphans. I know of a quiet cabin in the woods. I wish I could bring you there. Give you a place to rest for a while.

But that’s just me spinning dreams that could never happen.

You probably have hundreds of women telling you the same thing. War hero—I can only imagine the mail. So I’m writing this card to tell you the same thing, and to wish you a Merry Christmas.

I hope that wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, it includes hot chocolate.

Merry Christmas, Josh.

Love,

Your Secret Admirer

The writer of the letter was correct. He did get a lot of fan mail—especially right after the news broke about him making a kill shot on the leader of an infamous terrorist group while on a mission to rescue about a dozen orphaned girls they were holding hostage.

This card was different though. First of all, it was a handwritten card—not a typed letter. Second of all, she hadn’t written explicit fantasies of what she’d like him to do to her. She’d just said she loved him…and that she’d met him before…before all the hero stuff. And she’d painted a picture of something he’d never dared to want for himself.

A quiet place where he could rest.

Third of all, her words made his dick hard.

Bobkowski sniffed the air and grinned. “Whoa. What’d she say to get Ice Block to lose his cool?”

Ice Block—that was what they called Josh. Because that’s what he became on special-ops missions. A block of ice doing his job without emotion or fear. Even when he’d drawn on Bobkowski that last time, his face had been a cold, blank slate—at least that was how his bunkmate had described it.

Josh liked the nickname. It suited him, and he did prefer to keep things like feelings and emotions frozen inside of him.

“It said, ‘Tell Bobkowski to go fuck himself,’” Josh answered, his voice as cold as his nickname.

Bobkowski just waggled his eyebrows. “Want me to stand guard outside the showers, keep the others from going in there for a bit? Give you a little quality time to take care of that Christmas Card problem of yours?”

Actually…yes.

But Ice Blocks didn’t concede in a fight—or ask for help.