“Collins,” Sebastian corrected. “You are Captain Collins again and you’ve just had the terrible misfortune to have a useless medic transferred to your company.”
“Oh no, not another medic,” Wesley said, deadpan. “Said no captain ever in the entire history of war.”
“It’spretend,” Sebastian said. “You’re pretending to be a captain again, taking charge of everything, and you’ve suddenly got a medic who doesn’t know how to shoot. And so you’ve got to teach him, yes?”
Wesley folded his arms. “I don’t know how things worked in the American army, but you would have been forbidden from even carrying a weapon inmyarmy.”
“Yes, I know,” Sebastian said impatiently, “but—”
“More to the point, do you actually believe I ever would have allowed one of my medics to be armed and sent to battle?”
A flash of hurt went through Sebastian. “You don’t think we can learn?”
“Notthat.” Wesley shook his head. “I don’t think you should ever have to. And don’t ask me to explain myself or talk about feelings; you know I don’t.”
Sebastian stifled a sigh.
“That said.” Wesley’s gaze flitted over him appraisingly. “It’s possible I couldpretendCaptain Collins is being forced to teach a medic to shoot for defense—for the medic’s own protection and safety, you understand.”
“Yes,” Sebastian said, straightening up. “You have an idiot medic in your company who’s going to get himself killed unless you step in.”
“That I’m willing to work with.” Wesley tilted his head. “But I should warn you that Captain Collins wasn’t very nice.”
“Who’s asking you to benice?” Sebastian said. “Not me. I’m asking you to be strict and bossy.”
“Ohareyou?” The corner of Wesley’s lips turned up. His gaze swept over Sebastian a second time, slower than before, lingering in a way that sent pleasant prickles over his skin.
“Well. Since you’re asking for it.” Wesley stepped closer and cleared his throat. “Then straighten thefuckup, corporal.”
Sebastian’s spine snapped to attention before he’d consciously decided to move.
“Shoulders back.” Wesley’s voice had gone sharper and deeper. “Chin up, eyes forward. Maybe your last captain let you get away with this reprehensible slouching, but it’s not going to fly with me.”
Jesus. Sebastian might have underestimated how good Wesley was going to be at this.
Wesley pointed toward the range. “Turn around, face the ocean, and if you know what’s good for you you’ll keep that spine straight. We’re not in a fucking saloon, soldier.”
Heat curled in Sebastian’s stomach.This is a shooting lesson on a ship’s deck, not the bedroom, he reminded himself. Wesley is teaching you the way he knows how to teach—stop finding it sexy.
He licked his dry lips. “Shouldn’t I pick up the gun first?”
“Did I say to pick up the gun?”
“Well—”
“And why are you speaking when I haven’t asked you a question? Turn the bloody hell around.”
“Sir yessir,” Sebastian muttered under his breath, as he turned around.
The ocean stretched out in front of him, endless dark gray to the horizon line where it met the paler gray of the cloudy sky. Wesley was out of sight behind him now, but Sebastian felt the awareness of his body, just that small bit taller, as he stepped in close behind him.
Wesley’s voice was distractingly close to his ear as he said, “Square your shoulders.”
Sebastian straightened up.
“You’re still slouching,” Wesley said curtly.
“I’mnot.”
