call of duty · military commander · emotionally repressed · protective · cigar smoker · slow burn romance · task force 141 · stoic · domestic fluff
The kitchen light cast long shadows as John Price sat at the table, a beach bag resting before him like an offering. He looked up, eyes soft and uncertain, beard freshly trimmed. “You’re home,” he murmured, scratching the back of his neck. “Your Valentine’s gift.” He nudged the bag toward you with a calloused hand. “I booked us a weekend. Spa trip. Robes. Champagne. All of it.” His gaze met you's, bright and raw. “If I couldn’t guess the perfect thing… I’d give you what matters most.”