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Never Going to Care (Sullivan Protection Book 1) by Ember Davis
Copyright © 2022 Ember Davis
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are
either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously,
and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events,
organizations or locals is entirely coincidental. The use of actors,
artists, movies, TV shows and song titles/lyrics throughout this book
are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way be seen
as an advertisement. Trademark names are used editorially with no
intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form
or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,
without permission in writing from the author.
For permission requests, email Ember.A.Davis@gmail.com
Contains explicit love scenes and adult language. The suggested
reading audience is 18 years or older.

This book is available exclusively at Amazon.com. If you’ve obtained

it anywhere else, you have an illegal copy.
For the grumps we know. May someone love them and see past it.
 Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
EPILOGUE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
OTHER BOOKS BY EMBER
 CHAPTER 1

HALE

Taking someone’s life shouldn’t be a fantasy that you play out in

your head, but I’m in need of some action and none of the current
jobs we have at Sullivan Protection is giving me what I need. It’s not
that I don’t like the ho-hum day-to-day which is going on right now,
it’s perfectly fine. Fine and fucking boring.
I never thought I’d want more than boring as fuck when I was
serving. But now? I could use a little more excitement in my life.
Sure, someone’s always in danger and we get paid a pretty penny
to make people not only feel safe but be safe. Still, the threats we’ve
been assessing lately aren’t making my blood pump. Maybe I’m just
fucked up and a little bit of fear, real bodily harm fear, is the only
thing which can get me going anymore.
If so, it’s fucked up and sad. I know this. But what can I do about
it?
The last thing which had me really concerned was when threats
were being made against Piper. She’s not only the receptionist for SP,
but my boss, Landon Sullivan, is in love with her. It took him a while
to admit it to himself and to her, but they’re on the right track now,
happy and engaged.
Maybe it was because we had no idea who was sending her
threats, even after we put our investigative noses to the ground.
Maybe it was because I know Piper. Hell, I even care about the
woman.
Which is strange for me to say. I don’t care about many people,
but we’ve created a little family here at Sullivan Protection and Piper
is definitely part of it. Landon might have claimed the woman,
fucking finally, but I still care about her. The rest of the guys here—
Remington, Easton, Weston, Blaze, Owen, Barrett and Colt—care
about her as well. We were all beside ourselves when she was in
danger, but her being safe has left a vacuum of adrenaline behind.
After growing up with three sisters, I was pretty fucking sure I
didn’t need any more women in my life who I look at like a sister.
Then I met Piper and she just got slotted in with Raegan, Justice
and Isabella. I’d protect all of them with my life and I wouldn’t bat
an eye about it.
At least I can relax a little bit now with Piper since she has
Landon at her back. After seeing her held at gunpoint by an
obsessed fan of Ezra Payne, the goalie for the New York Storm and
one of her oldest friends, he won’t be letting her out of her sight for
a while. We held him back so he wasn’t involved in the takedown of
her attacker, but I don’t blame him. He forgot everything he’d been
trained to do the moment he saw the woman he loved in trouble.
It was eye-opening to see him lose it. He’s a former SEAL, same
as me, and I didn’t realize there would ever be a situation where our
training would fail us. I’ve never seen it happen before. Considering
it was Landon, it scared the hell out of me. Not like I would admit it
out loud. Hell fucking no.
It does make me realize there isn’t room in my life for a woman.
Nope. I won’t be losing control. I can’t afford to.
I’m itching for something. I can feel it under my skin. It feels like
I’m a caged lion and it doesn’t sit well with me. I need…something.
I knock on the door frame to Blaze’s office where I find him
looking through some files. He’s an even bigger grumpy fucking
asshole than I am. He doesn’t talk a lot, but he’s solid as hell. He’s
just as deadly as the rest of us, but without the nice guy persona of
Remington or the easygoing outward appearance of Weston and
Easton.
I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen the man so much as
smirk, but even I could feel his relief when we rescued Piper. The big
fucking softie. He’d probably choke me with his bare hands if I said
it out loud. I’m damn tempted just to get some action around here.
He looks up from his files, but he doesn’t say a word. Typical.
“You up for a few rounds?” He arches an eyebrow in question but
doesn’t say anything. Quiet, brooding asshole. “I’m itching for some
action.”
“Want your ass kicked is more like it,” he deadpans. I would think
he’s joking if I didn’t know him, but he’s not. He’s just that solemn.
I smirk at him just to rile him up, well as much as I can with a
man like Blaze. He wouldn’t show it even if he was. I goad him, “If
you think you’re up for it.”
Blaze’s eyes harden and he snaps the folder closed, his
movements precise, telling me my barb landed. He doesn’t give
away much, but it’s clear to me right now. Maybe I’m not the only
one who’s been itching for something more than the work which has
been coming our way lately.
When he stands and strides toward me, he makes a motion with
his hand to proceed. I can’t help the adrenaline which flows through
me at the prospect of a good sparring match. It’s been too fucking
long. As we pass by Weston’s office on the way to the gym area on
our floor, I hear some shuffling, but I don’t look in.
“Hey,” I hear Weston’s voice call out after us. Before I can turn,
he’s walking behind us. He sounds practically fucking giddy, “What’s
going on? You two are stomping down this hallway like we’ve gotten
some exciting mission?”
“We’re going to spar,” I inform him without looking back.
“Oh,” he exclaims a little breathlessly as if he’s been dying for
some entertainment too. “I should call the guys. Maybe pop some
popcorn.”
Blaze snorts out a laugh but doesn’t do anything to dissuade
Weston. I’m not surprised. The man might be quiet and brooding,
but he’s a fucking showboat in the worst kind of way. He does it
quietly and without the boasting, but still manages to make you feel
small while doing it. Expressive gloating has nothing on quiet pride.
I roll my eyes, but I don’t say anything to Weston either. I don’t
mind sparring with an audience. I’ve done it plenty of times.
Actually, it might be better to have a few more people there.
Especially if it means I can get them in the ring after I kick Blaze’s
ass.
Well, hopefully kick his ass. We’re evenly matched and things are
always a toss-up between us. Maybe it’s because we’re so similar.
Who the fuck knows?
We head into the locker room area we had designed and installed
when Landon bought this floor of the building for the business. It
took him some time to gain the capital after just starting out and
making a name for himself in the city. We certainly aren’t the only
security firm around, far from it, but our skills and our training
catapulted us to the top.
We get a lot of jobs and a lot of high-end clients. It works for us
because the money we get from those jobs also allows us to help
people who need us and can’t pay the same fees as the rich
muckety-mucks do.
It doesn’t take long to get changed and then I’m taping up my
hands along with Blaze when the door to the gym swings open and
Remington, Weston and Easton come striding in. Fuck me, they
actually do have popcorn.
I scrub a hand down my face and share a look with Blaze. His
face is a neutral mask, but I can see the smirk in his eyes. Fucker.
I shake my head and point to the group. “No commentary from
the peanut gallery.”
The three of them, as if they fucking coordinated that shit, zip
their lips with their fingers and toss the imaginary key over their
shoulders. I groan and turn away from them as they erupt into
laughter behind me.
Easton is usually a little more serious than his brother, but not by
much. He has a silly side which he only lets a few people in on
beyond the casual and charming mask he shows the world. Since
we’re like a family, we’re all in on it.
I approach and enter the ring alongside Blaze who looks me over
after we bump fists and then take a few steps back, both getting
into defensive postures. It’s always a battle of wills between us on
who is going to attack first. We learned a long fucking time ago that
being the aggressor in a fight has its place, but so does reading your
opponent and waiting it out.
More often than not I break first and today is no exception.
Usually, it’s because I get an itch under my skin to do something…
anything. I can’t ignore it for too long.
I’m the one who asked him to spar anyway so I should be the one
on offense and, hopefully, get first blood. Those two things don’t
always line up, but I try to make it work for me.
We dance around each other, and I try to make an opening for
myself by faking a jab to his ribs, but Blaze is ready for me, blocks
me and then mirrors my actions. I’m not fast enough to block him
and the impact is jarring as fuck.
I know he’s not even using all his strength either. We never do
when we spar. No one needs to go to the hospital today which is
what would happen if we turned this friendly sparring match into
more. Piper would probably yell and fuss at us if we did which would
annoy Landon and then he’d be up our asses.
No fucking thank you.
We trade punches back and forth, dancing around each other
until we’re both sweating and panting. My muscles feel loose even
as a few ache with tenderness from where Blaze has landed a blow.
There’s no shit talking between us. It’s one of the reasons I always
ask Blaze to spar with me.
He doesn’t talk, he delivers, and I appreciate the fuck out of it.
We’ve been doing this long enough to know the strengths and
weaknesses of each other. When he takes me down to the mat and
gets me into a grappling hold, I know he’s not going to let up until I
surrender.
Growing up with three sisters and being the oldest, I’ve always
prided myself on not being a sore loser so I could teach them to be
the same way. The same is true when I’m sparring with my friend. I
tap his arm twice and the pressure is immediately gone.
When I’m standing, I face Blaze as we pant. We fist bump and
then head over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. Our audience
is munching popcorn and obnoxiously cheering like they just
witnessed some damn cage match. It’s annoying as fuck, but also…
kind of nice. Not like I would tell them though.
They’d become insufferable if I did.
I suck down the water and look at Blaze, the look we share tells
me we won’t be having another match today. I’m fine with it. I got
what I needed to out of it, and I hope he did as well. With a nod we
flip off the three spectators, as if they couldn’t hold their own in the
ring with us, and stalk off to the locker room.
By the time I’m out of the showers, I feel little less feral and
hunting for blood and a little more like myself. The feelings of
annoyance have settled into a simmer instead of a boil, but it’s still
there right under my skin. I’m annoyed with being annoyed.
What the fuck is going on with me?
Maybe I need to find a woman for a night. I can’t offer her more
than that and I know it. I haven’t even attempted a relationship
since before I joined up. I knew there was no way to maintain it
while I was being shipped to hell and back. Then afterward, I’m man
enough to admit I needed some fucking space to deal with all the
shit in my head.
My parents and sisters tried to support me as much as possible,
but it was hard as fuck coming back to civilian life. You can’t just
turn off the training I’ve gone through. I wasn’t on the same team
as Landon, but I knew the man and when I heard about him
opening Sullivan Protection, I tracked his ass down and got in.
It was what I needed because I knew he’d understand. I saw the
same demons in his eyes I knew resided in mine; still do, for both of
us. I needed a purpose and I found it here at SP—a way to put my
training to good use and be surrounded by men who weren’t
oblivious to what was going on in the world.
We added on, but every man who became part of our family here
are former military. Sebastian was the only guy from the Air Force
we had, but he’s in Denver now. It was the right move for him, even
if I resented him leaving us for a little while. Now that he’s found his
woman there, I know it was meant to be.
Still sucks to feel like we lost him when we’ve all had enough loss
in our lives. The connection we have to Denver and the guys from
Higgins Security there is strong and we’re better for it. My
annoyance ebbs at the thought that the HS guys and the rest of
their wild-ass family will come for Landon’s wedding.
The moment I get back to my office, my phone rings. I don’t
groan but it’s so fucking hard to hold it in. I have boring ass files on
my desk waiting for me and I don’t want to add to the stack of
them. Not even a little bit.
“Torres,” I bark out when I answer.
The little giggle on the other end could be any one of my sisters. I
swear, if you only hear them on the phone, you’d think they were
fucking triplets. I can barely tell my mother apart from them either.
“Well, hello to you too, brother,” she snarks and it gives away who
it is more than her voice.
 “Isabella,” my voice softens. She’s after me in birth order and the
oldest of my sisters and has always taken the role of being the
oldest of the girls seriously. As if I wasn’t enough of a protective
older brother. “How are you? How’s the shop?”
“Fine,” she sighs, but I know there’s more to it. She’s the kind of
person who doesn’t share until she’s ready and if she’s not going off
on a complaint, I know she’s not ready to share just yet. When she’s
ready, she doesn’t hold back. She clears her throat, “The business is
good, don’t get me wrong, I’m just having an issue with the
landlord.”
My hackles are immediately up. This ass has been giving her
problems for a while and I’ve offered, more than once, to get
involved. I hate that she won’t let me. She thinks she has to carry
the world on her shoulders. I get it because I’m the same way and
she was left behind when I went off to serve. She took on my role in
our family in so many ways.
Guilt eats at me, as if I made her like this. Did I? She’s stubborn
as fuck, but I’m pretty sure that’s all mom’s influence.
I growl, “You want me to have a talk with him?”
She laughs again, but then it slips into a sigh when it’s clear I’m
not joking. ‘Talk’ might be closer to me threatening him, which I’m
sure she knows, but I just need her to give the word and I’ll make it
happen.
“No,” she sighs. “I got this. It’s just annoying, but I’m not going to
back down to some asshole in a suit.” I snort out a laugh because,
yeah, she won’t. Poor guy. “I just wanted to remind you about family
dinner this weekend.”
I close my eyes but force myself to not react verbally. I love my
family, but it can be a lot, especially with mom. As long as she
doesn’t try and set me up again, I’ll survive.
“I didn’t forget, Bella,” I force my voice to stay neutral.
 “Good,” she chirps. “See you then.”
She’s gone before I can say goodbye and I shake my head. When
I look at the files again, I know I can’t look at them in this office. I
just can’t.
I scoop them up and start to stalk down the hallway to the
conference room. Maybe a little more space will be good. I can
spread shit out and not feel so damn confined. Maybe then the
annoying buzzing feeling right under my skin will go away.
The moment I push the door open with my foot I know I’m
fucking wrong. The conference room table, the table where we do
very important work involving keeping people safe, is covered in…
frilly shit. There are fabric swatches, magazines, a giant binder
which might as well be a damn cupcake, and even fucking lace.
Piper is sitting in one of the chairs with a woman I’ve never seen
before, pouring over an open magazine between them. Fucking, hell,
what is going on?
Before I can stop myself, I growl out, “What the hell are you two
doing in here?”
When the woman with Piper looks up at me, her black hair
framing her gorgeous features and highlighting the depth of her
brown eyes, I know I’m in trouble. Not just for my growled question,
but bone deep fucking trouble.
 CHAPTER 2

CELESTE

I’ve never been so happy to put my organizational skills to the

test as I have been with helping Piper plan her wedding. It’s been
great, partially because Piper and I have been friends since we were
kids and she’s easy to work with and super organized as well. The
other part is that it’s been keeping my mind off my break-up which
was rough.
It’s all been heard and experienced before. He was an ass. He
didn’t appreciate me. He was a dirty, rotten fucking cheater. Blah,
blah, blah. Same old song and dance rolled up in a sob story and I’m
over feeling like crap about it.
Being able to throw myself into helping Piper and celebrating love,
which is obviously strong and true, has been a lifeline. It’s one I,
almost, hate to admit I needed. Not because the people in my life
expect me to be strong, which they do, but because I know I
shouldn’t even be upset about Stephen.
It’s been months, but I can’t shake it. It’s pissing me off because
he was a piece of shit and I’m not sad about it being over. I’m sad
about all the little things which went along with having someone in
my life. Someone to talk to who was all mine. Someone to sleep
next to at night. Someone to eat dinner with.
The last one is a huge thing. I hate eating dinner alone. It’s
depressing. I also hate cooking for only one person, but I’m not
about to order food all the damn time. It’s just not who I am. I love
cooking, but then the leftovers are like a big fuck you, you’re alone
neon sign which I want to smash to bits.
I’ve almost forgotten about Stephen and his big fucking ridiculous
self as I’ve been helping Piper and pouring over some magazines,
looking at samples and figuring out Piper’s dream color scheme. I’m
going to do my best to make this a dream wedding for her and
ignore that there is not anywhere close to enough time to plan a
wedding. Do you know how long the lists are for venue space in the
city? It’s ridiculous, but we’ll figure it out.
Somehow.
The good thing is she doesn’t care about most of it. I mean, she
does, but she’s not some bridezilla who needs everything fucking
perfect for some fairy tale wedding. Maybe it’s because Landon is
the other half of her soul and getting married is just a means to an
end, another layer of commitment and love on top of what they
already mean to each other.
Must be nice.
I force my eyes to the burnt orange satin she’s picked out as a
color since she’s getting married in October and push away my
feelings of resentment. She doesn’t deserve them. Stephen does,
the cheating asshole, but Piper sure as fuck doesn’t.
Piper points to a dress in the magazine and her mouth opens, but
no words come out before a growled question interrupts us, “What
the hell are you two doing in here?”
My head whips up so fast I get a kink in my neck, but Piper just
waves her hand dismissively as if those words from his, clearly,
pissed off self are acceptable. They aren’t. You’d think the table
covered in wedding swag would be an indication of exactly what
we’re doing in here. And why.
When it’s clear Piper isn’t going to address this big giant man,
who is sexy as fuck…nope, not where my thoughts need to go at all.
Ahem. When Piper doesn’t put him in his place, I have no other
choice. I’m not going to let anyone walk all over her, me, or my best
friend’s wedding.
It’s her special day. It’s a day she should remember for the rest of
her life. It doesn’t hurt that I’m already annoyed because we don’t
have enough time to really do any of this properly and now this guy
wants to lumber in and be pissy? I just don’t think so. I don’t think
so so fucking hard.
I stand up to my full height, which, at 5’4”, isn’t much. Fine! 5’3”;
damn. I plant my hands on the table and lean toward him. The
moment I do, his scent, some cedarwood deliciousness which makes
me want to lean into him and take a deep breath, much to my
embarrassment, surrounds me. A man like him, one who clearly has
a permanent scowl on his face and a bad fucking attitude, shouldn’t
smell so damn good.
I breathe through my mouth, but then it’s like I can taste him.
Not helping at all.
As I narrow my eyes at him and try to force out the laser beams,
which are begging to shoot out of my eyes, I seethe, “We’re
planning her wedding.” My voice lowers to a challenging tone, “You
got a problem with it?”
He blinks at me once, twice, three times. I think, for a split
second, his lips, the way too kissable lips, are going to break into a
grin and he’s going to tell me he’s just fucking with me. It doesn’t
happen and, instead, his scowl deepens. Which shouldn’t be sexy.
“Yeah,” he scoffs, “I do have a problem with the office being
taken over by lace and satin and shit.”
His lip curls up in a sneer as he looks down at the magazine
spread out before us. My heart sinks because I know whatever Piper
was going to say about the dress she was just looking at, especially
if it was positive, is going to be lost now. His eyes take in everything,
including the binder I put together for my best friend as if it’s
nothing. Why does it feel like he’s saying I’m nothing? I don’t even
know him.
“We do serious work here,” his voice is cold, and I fight my body
to not shudder at the sound of it.
I will not show weakness to some fucking asshole. Not now, not
ever. I’ve never backed down from a challenge and I sure as fuck
have never let a bully walk all over me. I learned a long time ago
how to defend myself.
In part it was because I’ve always been smaller, and people
wanted to make fun of it or think that I’m weak because of it. It
doesn’t help that my brother is Ezra Payne, the goalie for the New
York Storm. He’s the opposite of me in so many ways.
He’s a giant and muscled to hell and back. I’m pretty sure like five
of me could fit in one of him. But who is counting that kind of thing?
We’re the same in a lot of ways as well. People have judged us for
our size. People might think I’m weak, but they’ve always assumed
Ezra is some stupid jock. They couldn’t be farther from the truth.
They also think he’s hard as hell and has no feelings. Also, a fucking
stereotypical lie.
He’s the biggest, softest teddy bear. I love him dearly. Considering
he’s only a year older than me, we were always close growing up.
We still are now that I’m 24 and he’s 25.
He taught me how to take care of myself because I was always
more than willing to jump into a fight and not give a single fuck if it
became physical. He warned me once, around middle school, that
because he was bigger people would want to pick a fight with him.
He also warned me that if he defended himself, or me, and hurt
someone then he would be in a lot of trouble.
That was when I turned from a girl who thought her brother
would always have her back into a hellcat. Ezra will always have my
back; I know this without a doubt. However, he would rather solve
the problem with words while I don’t give a fuck about diplomacy.
I can be the sweetest person in the world to those who I love and
who have earned it, but when someone crosses me or messes with
the people I care about? All bets are off.
Which is why I have no problem standing up to this guy, no
matter who he thinks he is. I stand up to my full height and look at
him as if he’s a bug and I’m not a bit sorry about it.
 “Then you should talk to your boss about him giving her almost
no time at all to plan the wedding,” I sneer the words at him, and
his eyes widen a fraction. I don’t give a fuck if he’s offended. “Are
you done here? The faster we get through this stuff, the sooner we
can be out of your hair with all this lace and satin.”
Piper looks up at me with wide eyes but doesn’t stop me or slow
me down. More than likely it’s because she knows I wouldn’t listen
at this point. I can be single minded, especially when someone rubs
me the wrong way.
He glances between us before he turns and stalks out of the
room. I’m almost too lost in watching how the muscles of his back
bunch and move to hear him mumble, “Your day will be great no
matter if you have all the bells and whistles or not because you two
love each other.”
Well, fuck.
I slump back down in my chair and press a hand to my chest. My
heart is racing, and I don’t think it has anything to do with standing
up for Piper or myself. I’m afraid it has everything to do with that
man and the way he lights my body on fucking fire.
Not good.
He’s a grump who needs a serious attitude adjustment. Even if he
did say the nicest fucking thing. It was only on his way out and after
he had insinuated that what we’re doing is frivolous. Piper is already
going to have to give up on a lot of things just because of how fast
we’re going to pull this wedding together. I'm sure as hell going to
give it my all on what we do have time for.
I turn to Piper to find her looking between the empty doorway
and me. I can see the wheels in her head spinning to try and figure
out what just happened here. I don’t think I want her to see the
ways he’s affected me outside of annoyance and anger.
Deflect! Mayday, deflect!
 “What a jerk,” I huff out. “Who is that guy, anyway? Like he is
security for the security firm?” I roll my eyes and screw up my face.
“The police of all things sparkly, fun and romantic?”
Piper laughs and it only takes me a moment to join her. It’s good
to laugh with my friend. It’s hard to maintain life-long friendships the
older you get. I already miss my brother so much of the year,
between his training, practice and traveling schedule.
For a long time, it felt like I was missing Piper in my life as well,
not even our monthly dinners were enough. We spent so much time
together when we were younger and then…life seemed to get in the
way.
I bite back a sigh because I know I’m overcompensating with all
the wedding planning. I just can’t help it. Honestly.
She’s starting the next chapter in her life and I’m still just…me. I
love my job but working in HR isn’t exactly glamorous. My dating life
is so abysmal that I’m not even trying anymore. My couch sees more
of my ass than anyone else does.
Maybe that’s how it’s all supposed to be. Maybe it’s simply part of
growing up. I just hate the feeling like I’m missing out on something
big which everyone else seems to be on top of.
When Piper and I stop laughing and can catch our breath, she
leans into me like she’s telling me a secret. “That was Hale Torres.
He might have come off like a jerk, but he’s really not.”
I arch an eyebrow and shake my head. “You’re saying he didn’t
just act like the biggest grump in all of grump-town? The winner of
most jerkiest at a spot the jerk contest?”
Piper barks out a laugh and concedes, “You have a point.” She
gives a little shrug. “You get used to it. Some of the guys around
here are a little rough around the edges.” She gives me a pointed
look. “You know how it used to be for me with Landon.”
 She has a point, but I don’t want any ideas in her head about
anything with me involving Hale. Nope. No way. No how.
Talk about disaster and heartbreak written all over him. Hale
makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up and I’m not sure if
it’s in the worst of ways or the best. I’m leaning toward worst.
I snort, “Oh please, that man was in love with you for years.”
Piper looks like she’s fucking glowing when I point out how long
Landon was pining away for her. I twist my lips up. “I’ve known
some rough around the edges guys before. You’ve met some of the
other guys Ezra has played hockey with. They’ve ranged from pure
psychopath to definitely got hit in the head too many times.”
“Well,” she concedes, “some of them probably did get hit in the
head too many times. And they’re all jacked up on the need to win
and testosterone.”
I snort, “As if Hale isn’t jacked up on testosterone?”
Piper blinks at me one time and I play the words back through my
head. It almost sounded like some wistful compliment from a
lovesick puppy. Not good. Not at all.
Tamp it down, you don’t need his brand of mess in your life,
especially considering he could hardly look at you without derision in
his gaze.
Piper whispers, “If you think Hale is a grump, wait until you meet
Blaze.” My eyes widen at the prospect of their being a bigger grump
than Hale.
Hale with his eyes so dark that they almost look black, slight
beard and broad shoulders. It’s clear he works out and I don’t think
I’d be sad about finding out what is underneath is clothes at all. He
has a tan complexion and his hair, while short, was begging for me
to run my fingers through.
Shut it down, that man is not interested and he’s not the one for
you.
 Deflect!
I point out the door and cock my head to the side, a little bit of
tease and sass in my voice, “A bigger grump than him?”
Piper smirks at me and nods slowly. “You know these guys are all
former military.” She looks out the door as if she can see the guys
who she has come to love, the family that they’ve forged, even
though we’re alone in the room together. There’s pride in her voice,
“They witnessed atrocities and acted in the name of our country.”
She sighs, “But it’s a heavy burden to bear and they all deal with it
in different ways.”
Guilt worms its way through my chest. Is that why Hale is so
abrasive? Because of his time serving? Fucking hell, that makes me
feel like shit on a stick.
“Well,” I mumble, “when you put it like that, I feel like an ass.”
Piper reaches over and gives my hand a squeeze before shaking
her head. “You shouldn’t. He was rude and abrasive. It’s not like his
past gives him a pass. No one’s does even if it might give a reason
for their behavior.”
I gasp and press my hand to my chest, “When did you get so
smart?”
Piper rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out at me and then
we’re lost in all the hubbub of picking out details for the wedding.
When most things are decided on and we have lists of the things we
need to do next, I feel like we’re that much closer to getting
everything in place for my best friend. She deserves it and so much
more.
Still, even as we work and then after I sneak out of SP like a
damn ninja while actively avoiding Hale, I can’t shake the feeling of
him looking at me. It felt like his eyes stripped me bare. I’m not sure
if I like the feeling or not.
 I’m going to go with not. Stripping someone, literally or
metaphorically, the first time you meet them doesn’t make a great
first impression.
Maybe I just need to get laid, but the thought of going on the
prowl for one night of passion leaves me feeling…cold. I’m not
willing or ready to analyze why that is. I’m also not willing to think
too deeply on the fact that as I finish up my day, Hale’s eyes are
right there staring back at me in my mind.
The imagination is a funny thing, so are fucking hormones. It
doesn’t mean anything and I’m not going to let it. Hale is a disaster
walking on two legs with a shit personality to go right along with it.
He has a past, everyone does. Not everyone takes their pain out on
other people.
So, why does the thought of him being in pain, true, soul-deep
pain, make me want to curl my body around him and never let him
go? Just being around him for a few minutes was exhausting and
exasperating. I cling to that, reinforcing the ways he pissed me off
instead of the other thoughts and feelings swirling around in my
head.
Yeah, bury your head in the sand, it always works out great.
Fuck. My subconscious is a real buzzkill sometimes.
 CHAPTER 3

HALE

I love my family, but I still take a moment when I’m standing in

front of the house I grew up in. I know what’s going to greet me.
It’ll be loud, it’ll be messy, it’ll be…perfect in an odd way. I prefer the
quiet, but my family and this house has always been the exception
to my preference.
I don’t need to knock, and I know my mom will tut in annoyance
when she answers the door, but she raised me to have manners and
I don’t live here anymore. Why when I think about having manners
does Celeste flash in my mind? Fucking hell, that woman.
When she left SP headquarters the other day, Piper was quick to
track me down. I could see the disappointment and the
recriminations before she even opened her mouth. I couldn’t help
myself when I looked up from the dreaded files on my desk, the
ones I was annoyed about not spreading out on the conference
room table because I found lace and frilly crap there instead.
Oh, and the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen as well. The
same one with fire in her eyes that I’m pretty sure I can still feel
licking my skin days later. Her brown eyes sparkled with mirth and
annoyance, the vision of them seared into my skin, into my soul and
into my fucking heart.
Piper slammed her hands on her hips, her voice calm which I
knew, having three sisters, was not necessarily a good thing. “What
was that in the conference room, Hale?”
I shrugged one shoulder, not giving an inch and not backing
down. I’m not the one whipped by Piper even if I do consider her
another sister. “I wanted to use the conference room,” my voice was
just as calm, just as even.
 She huffed, “You didn’t need to be rude to my friend, especially
since she’s helping me with the wedding.”
I arched an eyebrow in challenge and let it seep into my voice,
“The wedding which you’re having to marry my brother and the love
of your life? The wedding where that’s the only thing that matters?”
Piper’s lips pursed in the cutest fucking way, and I could tell she
was trying not to get all up in arms about my response. “Yes,” she
sassed me, “that’s the one.”
I shook my head as if she was the one being ridiculous, and I
didn’t barge in there acting like an ass. Secretly, I was glad my mom
hadn’t seen my performance. She probably would have grabbed hold
of my ear, even though I tower over her by more than a foot, just to
bring me down to her level to tell me about women and respect.
Thankfully she didn’t tell Piper about that trick because I would
have fallen like a house of cards so damn fast. Instead, I found
myself amused as fuck at riling up Piper. It would have been better if
I was vexing her friend, but I didn’t let myself dwell on the thought
too long.
Piper’s friend was too damn easy to get a rise out of. I saw the
fire, the annoyance, the frustration. I wanted to stoke the flames
instead of dousing them. It didn’t escape my attention how I
couldn’t stop thinking about the raven-haired spitfire.
“Who is your friend, anyway?”
Piper arched an eyebrow at my question but didn’t press as to
why I wanted to know. If she was assuming it had something to do
with always needing intel, then I was more than willing to go along
with that line. Even if it was bullshit. There was just something
about the woman which captivated me.
Which annoyed me even fucking more than not being able to take
over my conference room table when I wanted to.
“Celeste is one of my oldest friends,” Piper revealed casually.
 Celeste. Celeste. Her name wormed its way into my head and
wouldn’t let go. Her name suited her perfectly; too perfectly. She
was heavenly.
“Why do I know that name?” I murmured the question right
before it clicked for me, and my eyes snapped up to lock with
Piper’s. “She’s Ezra Payne’s sister?”
The smirk on Piper’s lips was victorious as fuck and I was a little
bit afraid that I had given myself away far too quickly. I slid my mask
of disgruntled neutrality in place and didn’t let it slip again. Nope.
Not going to happen.
“She is,” she nodded slowly as she stared at me as if I was going
to crack in front of a pint-sized woman even after being given some
of the best training the US military has to offer. She tilted her head
to the side as she continued to study me. “How do you know that?”
I deadpanned, “The article which led Ezra’s stalker to you.”
“Oh,” Piper flushed and wrung her fingers together. Her voice
went soft, “I really am indebted to you and the rest of the team,
Hale.” She took a deep breath and then let it out slowly, “If you all
hadn’t been on top of things, if you hadn’t come for me,” she trailed
off when I held up a hand to stop her.
“Piper,” I barked softly, my voice a rasp of emotion and pain. “You
do not owe me gratitude or anything else. We’re a family here and I
would do it again and again. I would risk everything for my family,
consequences be damned.” I smirked at her. “And anyway, Landon
would have gone on a killing spree if we hadn’t gotten to you and
saved your perky ass.”
Of course, because my timing was shit, Landon walked in just in
time, his eyes liquid firelight and barely contained rage. He seethed,
“What the fuck are you doing talking about my woman’s ass?”
Piper practically jumped out of her skin because, while Landon
might be a big guy just like me, he’s silent as fog rolling in on an
overcast morning. Yeah, that training never goes away. She clutches
her chest as she turned toward Landon, my boss and brother, her
eyes wide.
“You shouldn’t sneak up on people,” her voice was shrill,
bordering on a shriek.
He growled, “Apparently I should if he is talking about your ass.”
I rolled my eyes and flipped him off. “You know she has a perky
ass. I’ve seen you spank it. Maybe if you don’t want me to mention
it now and again, you shouldn’t do that shit.”
“Mine,” he growled and then before anyone in the room could
take a breath, Landon hauled Piper over his shoulder and stalked out
of my office.
Piper raised her head and gave me a blinding smile as she flipped
me off while hanging over his shoulder. I barked out a laugh,
amused as fuck with their antics. Landon deserves to be happy. He
closed himself off for two years after he hired Piper even though the
rest of us could clearly see how much he cared for her. It was in his
eyes, in the way he tracked her every movement, even in the way
he held himself away from her.
As my brother stole his woman away, a feeling lingered around
me, one I couldn’t brush away or ignore. It was a feeling of
yearning, of want. It made me think about Celeste. I wasn’t willing
to look too deeply into the feeling or why.
Hell, it’s days later and I’m still not willing to analyze why I can’t
seem to forget about her. I’ve almost convinced myself she’s
lingering in my mind because I haven’t gotten laid in so damn long.
Almost, but not quite. She’s gotten under my skin with the way she
was willing to stand up to me even though she’s tiny and wouldn’t
be able to reach my shoulders without a stepladder; a perk of being
6’3”.
My knock reverberates while I lower my hand and I don’t have to
wait long for the door to swing open to reveal my mom wearing an
apron and a frown of disapproval. She tuts, just as I knew she
would, before she hauls me into the house and gives me a hug. She
might be small, just like Piper, Celeste and the rest of my sisters, and
I might be 35, but her hugs pack a fucking punch and I’m not too
old to admit it.
They’re comfort, knowing and acceptance wrapped up in one
simple action which she’s more than willing to dole out to anyone in
need. Her hugs were one of the things I missed the most while I
was training and deployed. It’s one of the things which brought me
home, hoping they could help put my scattered pieces back together
again.
“Mi hijo,” she sighs as she herds me toward the kitchen where I
can hear the voices of my family layering themselves in a soundtrack
of home, “what have I told you about knocking?”
“Ma,” I hook an arm around her shoulders and kiss her temple, “I
don’t live here anymore. I’m not going to walk in like I own the
place.”
She sighs, but it’s halfhearted, at best. “This will always be your
home,” the conviction in her voice grounds me in the here and now,
anchoring me in the past, the memories of growing up, and the love
she gave us even when there wasn’t nearly enough of anything else
to go around.
It was one of the reasons I decided to join up and serve instead
of going to college. I wasn’t going to be a burden to my family. I
needed to make something of myself and make sure my sisters, who
were all always smarter than me anyway, had more opportunities.
Not being a drain on my family was the first step in making sure it
happened.
I’ve done what I set out to do even though there are ghosts of
my past following me around because of my time as a SEAL. It had
to be done and if I had to go back and do it again, I wouldn’t make
a different decision. I would do my best to minimize the loss I’ve
seen, but the wheel of time only moves forward so I deal.
 Kind of.
When we step into the kitchen, I can’t help but smile at the sight
which greets me. My sisters are chatting all at once as if they don’t
spend every day together at their bakery and our dad stands to the
side with a smile on his face. He’s like me in so many ways. He stays
quiet, but you can see the way he basks in the love of his family.
He’s not as grumpy or growly as I am, but he didn’t go the
military route when he was younger. He could have, but then he met
mom and fell in love. He wasn’t going to leave her. I don’t blame him
considering my past.
I thought I loved my high school girlfriend, Maria. She was
everything to me, but it didn’t keep me from joining up and heading
out to boot camp. Maybe if I had stayed, I wouldn’t have gotten the
oh so cliché Dear John letter I did when I was out on my first
deployment.
Talk about a mindfuck from thousands of miles away.
It’s not even like I could blame her. I was asking a lot of a woman
I wasn’t married to, and we were both so young. That doesn’t mean
I wasn’t bitter as fuck about it for a long damn time. I threw myself
into the job and enjoying any shore leave I had. I spent quite a bit
of time…diversifying my sexual partners.
It wasn’t the healthiest of ways to deal with things, I realize now,
but, again, that damn wheel of time.
Maria is now happily married with a few kids. I’ve seen her
around the neighborhood a few times when I’ve visited my parents.
It was awkward as fuck, but I’m happy she’s happy. It doesn’t sting
like it did at first and now I’m pretty sure I wasn’t even in love with
her in the first place.
It became crystal clear when I watched Landon and Piper find
their way, as messy and full of struggle and denial as it was. I never
looked at Maria the way Landon looks at Piper. It wasn’t meant to
be, I can admit it now, but the experience pushed me closer to
prickly and I’m not sure there’s any coming back from the man I’ve
become.
Do I even want to?
My head fills with a vision of Celeste smiling and happy with a
little girl wrapped around her legs with the same raven hair as her
mama and the brown eyes I inherited from my mom. When my
breath hitches, I cover it by clearing my throat. My mom can scent
these kinds of things like a damn bloodhound and I’m not going to
give her any ammunition.
Nope. She’d never let it go. Celeste shines so brightly, even while
glaring at me, and deserves someone more emotionally available
than I am.
My sisters turn toward me with big smiles on their faces and then
they surround me with hugs, talking over each other. I let out a
chuckle and wrap them up in my arms. We’ve always been a close
family and it hasn’t changed, no matter the death count on my head
or the miles I put between us, I knew this was what was waiting for
me at home.
This is enough.
It’ll have to be.
I look around the room before teasing my middle sister, Justice,
“Where’s Corbin?”
She rolls her eyes and huffs out a breath. They’ve been best
friends for almost their whole lives and it’s not often that we get
Justice here for family dinner night without Corbin right next to her.
He’s like a little brother I never wanted and can’t seem to shake.
“He has a date,” she chirps brightly.
I search her face for anything she’s hiding, but nothing is there. I
swear there’s more between them, but both will deny it vehemently
and I gave up asking a long time ago. Mom hasn’t though which
annoys Justice to no fucking end. It’s amusing as hell.
 Ma grumbles, “I don’t know when you two are going to pull your
head out of your asses and realize you’re perfect for each other.”
Justice’s eyes slide closed for a moment as she takes a deep
breath. “It’s not like that, Ma,” she sighs, “and you know it.”
Mom makes a dismissive noise in the back of her throat but
doesn’t push. Our mom has a heart of gold and only wants to see us
happy. I know it, we all know it, but that doesn’t make it any easier
to deal with some days.
Justice rolls her eyes but then pushes her annoyance away and
flashes me a big smile. I know that smile and dread curls up in my
stomach. It’s a tell if I’ve ever seen one; a devious as fuck tell.
“What about you, big bro?” There’s a teasing lilt in her voice and I
try not to grimace. Her voice takes on a syrupy sweet tone, “Met
anyone new?”
The baby of the group, Raegan, bounces on her toes and claps.
“Oo, yes! Please tell us someone has finally caught your attention.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes and shake my head. “Nope,
nothing like that. You know I don’t have time for a woman in my
life.”
“Really?” Isabella’s eyebrow arches and she grins at me. “So the
love potion created by Landon and Piper isn’t catching?” She pouts,
“Pity.”
I glare at her and open my mouth to respond, but then I look
over at Mom to find her watching me. Very, very closely. You could
knock me over with a feather when she waves her hand dismissively.
“Stop teasing your brother. He’ll find love when the time is right.”
All three of my sister’s jaws drop before they’re sputtering in
perfect fucking harmony. I don’t blame them, I’m a little surprised as
well. Ma loves pushing us to find people, settle down and start
pumping out babies.
 The image of that little girl swims back into my mindscape and I
bite back the growl of satisfaction which starts to rumble deep in my
chest. It’s a pipe dream. I made a horrible first impression and I
don’t think Celeste is the woman for me anyway. It’s just a fluke that
I haven’t been able to get her out of my head.
Just a fucking fluke.
Sure, keep telling yourself that you big fucking liar.
She’s gorgeous and I love the firelight I saw in her eyes, but she’s
also infuriating and frustrating as fuck. It would never work. We’d
bite each other’s heads off.
I think.
I’m pretty sure.
Thankfully the conversation shifts to the bakery my sisters own,
Éclair Wishes, as we grab the food mom has been preparing and
take it to the table. The conversation flows around me and being
around my family makes me feel settled in a way only they have the
ability to do. It’s comfortable and steady.
I know they’ll always have my back, and they know the same
goes for me with them. I made sure no one gave my sisters shit
while we were growing up, at least until I joined up. That was the
hardest part about my decision—leaving them behind.
It all worked out in the end, and they tightened ranks around
each other. They’re fierce as fuck and I almost laugh at the thought
of what kind of men will be able to handle them. They’re
opinionated and they don’t take any shit. As it fucking should be.
Celeste swims through my mind again. I remember the way she
narrowed her eyes at me before she stood up and leaned over the
conference room table like she was going to launch herself at me if I
said one more disparaging thing about the wedding Piper is
planning.
 I meant what I said though, the frills are just extra. She’s
marrying the man she loves which means it’ll be the perfect day, no
matter if there are flowers or lace or even sunny skies.
I try and shake it off, but the rest of the night I can see her eyes,
staring at me and there’s a part of me that wishes they weren’t
narrowed and, instead, are looking at me with love and devotion.
 CHAPTER 4

CELESTE

It’s been one of those days today. I wish it was a Monday because
then I could blame the day of the week or something, but it’s not.
What a fucking bummer. The whole day has been a drag from the
moment I opened my eyes right on the cusp between not early
enough and too late.
It was not a good way to wake up at all. I hate feeling like I’m
playing catch-up all day and while it could have been worse, I’ve
been kicking myself for hitting my snooze button that one extra
time. Why couldn’t I have some self-control?
Maybe it was because you were having an oh so delicious dream
about Hale.
Not fucking helping.
I’m not exactly a morning person, but today I felt like a gremlin
from the moment I opened my eyes. I’ve wanted to snipe and swipe
at people as if raking my claws over them would make me feel
better. I know it won’t.
At least, I don’t think it would.
It feels like I’ve been putting out fire after fire and all I was armed
with was a damn joke extinguisher, one filled with those exploding
snake things instead of actual fire retardant. It’s been a damn mess
and I’ve about had it. The dread of going back to SP to pick up Piper
so we can go and talk to the florist some of the guys she works with
live near is twisting me all up inside.
Why? Fucking Hale. Will I see him? Will he be the same grump he
was before? Will he be worse?
I could worry myself into a fucking ulcer at this point. Hell, it
might be a damn improvement. Okay, maybe not, but it does make
me consider it for a moment longer than it should. Pain which
requires a doctor shouldn’t even be on my radar juxtaposed to
seeing a giant sexy man who could be a fitness model.
When Joe pops his head around the door of my office, I almost
let a groan slip past my lips. I struggle with keeping it safe inside my
body. Letting the annoyance out would probably be the opposite of
creating a positive work environment. Let’s just forget how this guy
can’t understand that I’m not interested.
I really should have snuggled back into bed this morning and tried
to get back into my dream about Hale instead of letting the day take
over and invade. It would have been better in the long run. Even if I
had to kick myself later.
He oozes into my office and his eyes slide down my body. I
almost shudder. On the return trip of his eyes, I want to gag. Why
couldn’t I have packed up just a few minutes early?
“Celeste,” he schmoozes, “you’re looking ravishing.”
I arch an eyebrow and cock my head to the side, done with the
bullshit today. Just done. My voice is cold and flat, “Do you need to
do the sexual harassment workshop again?”
Joe holds his hands up in surrender, but I’m not buying it. I know
a show when I see one. This guy could land a gig on Broadway with
the way he’s giving me puppy dog eyes and trying to act all
innocent. I should know, I love going to a show.
“I remember the unit on compliments and mine was all above
board,” his tone is snide as fuck.
The thing he doesn’t seem to understand is that it’s not a good
thing that he’s had to have the sexual harassment refresher course.
The barb I threw at him didn’t even land because he doesn’t see
anything wrong with his behavior. He’s so damn close to being fired.
I just need a little bit more time and for him to have one more major
slipup and he’s gone.
 I will celebrate with champagne on that day.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Being a harpy isn’t
going to help me in this situation. I wish it fucking would.
“You forget that one little part of the training which says the
compliment needs to be a welcome one.” I deadpan, “It isn’t.”
“Aw,” he pouts, “come on, Celeste. Don’t be like that.”
I swear he likes to say my name at least fifty times every single
time we talk. It’s annoying as fuck. Does he think I don’t know my
own name? Does he need to remind himself which female he’s
speaking to so he can keep them straight?
What woman would be in his life willingly? He’s the worst.
It’s a shame that he’s as attractive as he is. It’s all surface spit
shine though. Underneath is a real weasel of a man.
The fantasy of Hale coming in and saving me while snarling at Joe
flashes through my mind. I like it. It makes my nipples pebble and I
thank the god of uncomfortable undergarments that this push-up
bra is padded from here to there or else Joe would think I’m
attracted to him.
I’m not. All the parts are where they should be and pleasing to
the eye. Maybe it’s that golden ratio bullshit. But it’s all a veneer;
one I can see right through.
“I’m not being like anything, Joe.” How am I keeping my voice
level right now? It’s a damn miracle because in my mind I’m
imagining clawing him. Or maybe Hale punching him. I bet it would
only take one punch too. “I do not welcome this attention.”
His shoulders slump and there’s a split second of regret which
thrums through me, but I push it away because it’s all misogynistic
conditioning. I don’t suddenly like the guy because he seems
disappointed that I’m not interested in him. I’m sure he could get a
lot of women to follow him around like he’s the Piped Piper of Penis.
I’m not that girl.
 “I just want to take you out, Celeste.” See what I mean about the
name thing? My own damn name shouldn’t produce a Pavlovian
response of disgust. “You’re gorgeous and I’d be a lucky man to
have you on my arm.” I arch an eyebrow at him. He thinks my
silence is consent, as if my words haven’t been clear as fucking day.
“Just one drink? There’s that bar down the street. You know a lot of
people head over there after work.”
“I have plans,” I clip out.
He sneers, “A date?”
I scoff, “That is none of your business.” My spine straightens. “I’m
not going to get a drink with you.”
Ever.
Never ever.
Nope.
“I bet you don’t even have plans,” he mumbles.
My mouth pops open, but then I slam it closed because I’m not
going to take the bait. He wants me to do it. I grimace internally
because I almost fell for his bullshit.
What is wrong with me?
I’m totally off my game and, as brown eyes and rippling muscles
barely contained by a black t-shirt swim through my mind, I know
why. It’s been days and I can’t seem to shake the man. It’s annoying
as fuck.
Joe slinks out of my office the same way he came in. I snatch up
my purse and then I’m out the door. It doesn’t take long to get over
to the SP offices. I’m not a fan of the butterflies which seem to grow
bigger as I take the elevator up to the right floor.
I should have told Piper to meet me downstairs. I didn’t because
she’s been a little skittish on the streets. I get it considering it wasn’t
far from here, in broad fucking daylight, when she was accosted.
 My mind drifts to the whole unfortunate incident. Ezra feels guilty
as fuck about it because it was one of his fans who went after Piper.
I have my own guilt over the whole thing considering it was my
suggestion to go out for our meet-up instead of staying in like we’ve
done in the past.
I wanted to celebrate Ezra’s winning season. I didn’t think about
the fact that paparazzi would be tracking him down. Nor did I think
they’d put a picture of Piper hugging Ezra like a fucking koala where
some psycho could see it and have her switch flipped to rabid.
The guilt eats at me. It doesn’t matter how many times Piper tells
me it’s not my fault.
If she would have gotten hurt, I don’t know what I would have
done. She’s been like my sister for as long as I can remember.
Everyone else has come and gone, our lives pulling us away in
different directions until there’s just too much time and space to find
the bridge again.
The elevator doors slide open, and my head snaps up before I
hold the door open by throwing my arm out and leaning out to look
right and left. I probably look like the worst spy in history right now.
My recon really needs some work.
When all I see is Piper at her desk looking at me curiously, I’m
able to breathe and stride through the doors. I hold my head up and
keep my back straight before I strut to her desk like I own the place.
Piper’s voice is gentle, “Is everything okay?”
I blink at her and swallow hard. I’ve never been able to keep
much from her, but she’s been distracted with the whole falling in
love with her soulmate and getting married thing she has going on.
“Of course,” I tell her smoothly. “Why would you think it isn’t?”
She narrows her eyes at me and then waves back to the elevator.
“Well, you just came out of the elevator and looked both ways like
you were either afraid you were stepping out into traffic or running
from something or someone.” She gasps and rushes around the
desk. “You aren’t in danger, are you? Do you need the guy’s help? I
know they would give it gladly.”
I snort out a laugh and she’s looking at me as if she might just
call for them even if I don’t really need the guys backing me up. I
ignore how appealing Hale riding in to rescue me sounds. I can’t
think about it.
He’s the man I’m avoiding anyway.
“Nothing is wrong,” I assure her with a roll of my eyes. “I’ve just
had a long day.”
She scrunches her nose up and frowns. “Is Joe bothering you
again?”
“Who?”
The single word might as well be a grenade being thrown against
my heart and sticking there so I’m taken down in flames and
concussive force. I gasp and spin around and of course, of fucking
course, it’s Hale standing there staring at me. His brown eyes are
just as deep and enticing as I remember them. It feels like I’m
drowning for a moment, and I could blame it on the fact he just
scared the hell out of me, but I know it’s a lie.
A big fucking lie.
“Fucking hell,” I run my eyes down his body and then back up,
“how does a guy your size move so silently?”
He smirks at me, and I think my panties melt away. I narrow my
eyes at him as he shrugs one shoulder casually. “It’s the training.”
He cocks his head to one side. “You don’t want to know the number
of ways I can kill someone.”
“No, I don’t.” I swallow hard but it does nothing to get rid of the
lump in my throat.
I’m in so much trouble.
 Hale’s voice deepens and takes on a growly quality which does
not go straight to my clit. Not at all. “Who is Joe?”
“Just some ass who works in my office,” I admit while I wave my
hand dismissively. “He’s harmless and we almost have enough on
him to give him the boot. He’s now taken the sexual harassment
refresher course twice.”
He crosses his arms across his chest and levels me with a look
which has me fighting myself so I don’t squirm where I’m standing.
“Let me guess,” his voice is danger wrapped in warm honey, “it’s
only given him the knowledge of how to skirt the line better.”
“Yeah,” I breathe out. When did my voice get all breathy? I clear
my throat and try and shake off the way I want to climb Hale and
have his arms wrap around me and keep me safe. “Like I said, I’m
handling it and I just need one more violation.”
“You don’t need a reason to fire someone in New York,” his voice
is bland, but I can feel the fire behind his words.
“Yes, but my company has its own set of rules and I’m bound to
go by those beyond the state laws,” I sound snappy because he’s
questioning my ability to do my damn job.
Piper pipes up, “Celeste works in HR, she knows what she can
and can’t do.”
When Hale looks over at her, his eyes soften slightly. “Of course,”
he concedes with a nod. When his eyes come back to mine, my
body lights on fire. Am I blushing right now? I can’t remember the
last time I blushed. “If you need me to have a little,” he pauses as if
searching for the right word, “chat with him. Let me know.”
Yeah, I don’t think he wants to chat with Joe, more like beat him
to a pulp. For a moment, the thought of it sends a thrill through me,
but I shove that reaction down deep. I can’t get turned on by this
man offering to take care of my problems. That would be dangerous
as hell.
 I shake my head and try and infuse confidence in my words, “I
got it under control.”
Hale’s gaze rakes over my body and I swear the tips of his lips
twitch as if he’s fighting a smile. “I’m sure you do, but the offer
stands.”
I narrow my eyes at him and I’m about a second from snarking at
him, something about lace and wedding and his rude ass behavior
the last time I saw him. Before I get the chance Landon walks into
the reception area, barely sparing me a look as he stalks straight to
Piper. Out of the corner of my eye I watch him embrace her and kiss
her hard. The way her body melts into his makes me flush even
more.
I glance at Hale to find him still staring at me, daring me to tell
him I don’t want him or need his help or maybe a million other
things. His muscles are coiled tight as if he’s fighting himself from
walking up to me. Which can’t be right; can it?
It was clear we annoyed each other from the moment we met. He
was rude as fuck. I was snarky. It paints a pretty clear picture.
Yeah, the picture of you two having hot as hell sex which would
leave you boneless for days.
I arch an eyebrow at Hale in challenge. I’m not prepared for him
to grin at me, showing me a dimple. My knees go a little weak, but
before I can succumb to the way this man affects me, Landon lets
go of Piper and they step away from each other.
Landon’s voice is deep, “Have fun checking out the florist Owen
suggested. Ella seems to like the flowers from there.”
Before there can be more awkwardness, as if avoiding looking at
Hale isn’t awkward enough, I grab Piper and give a wave over my
shoulder. “We’ll be just fine. I’ll have Piper back to you before she
turns into a pumpkin.”
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
opportunity such as never before had come to a missionary in
Shantung,—all the highest officials of the province, and half-a-
hundred others of lesser degree, being present. He took as his
theme “The Importance of an Upright Character,” and more than
rose to the height of the occasion. One of his most memorable
sermons was delivered before a convention of some three hundred
women gathered at Wei Hsien from the native church members of
that region.
His ministry at Tengchow was fruitful of great good in many ways.
One of these was the growth of the church by the conversion of the
natives. Just before he removed to Wei Hsien, he recorded the fact
that during all his pastorate there had not been one of the quarterly
communions at which there were no additions. The beginning of his
pastorate was signalized by the accession of eighteen,—eight being
from the college and six from the girls’ school. Its close was marked
by an accession of twenty-six, of whom twenty-one were baptized,
the largest number up to that date ever receiving that sacrament, at
the same time, in the Tengchow church. Only one was from the
college, all the rest having come in through the labors of two
associates in the station, Miss Snodgrass and Dr. Seymour.
Just as soon as by evangelistic itineration and other means
converts were made in the neighboring region, outside of Tengchow,
it became necessary for the missionaries to look after these
scattered sheep in the wilderness; and for a good while a large share
of that work fell to Dr. Mateer and his wife. In fact, it had been partly
through their labors, direct or indirect, that these converts had been
won, and therefore they felt it especially a duty to care for their
nurture. That, of course, involved a large variety of efforts. In the
earlier years these frequently consisted in part of interposition, so far
as it was wise and practicable to shield native Christians from gross
wrongs to which they were exposed. The hatred of the rulers and of
most of the people for foreigners and the foreign religion was bitter.
Even at Tengchow the very tombstones in the little cemetery where
the missionaries buried their dead were repeatedly broken,—an act
regarded by the Chinese as the most gross and cowardly insult that
can be offered to a living man; yet it was slow work to secure from
the officials protection, or justice as to the criminals. The case of
Miao, of Chow Yuen, a district capital situated fifty miles to the
southwest of Tengchow, is specially notable. Early in 1869 the
Mateers and Margaret Brown, with a Chinese assistant, went to
itinerate, and on the way they visited him. When converted out in his
native district of Tsi Hea, he immediately began to endeavor to win
others to Christ. So he sent word to his clansmen and friends that he
had important business with them, and invited them to come to his
house. This occurred while the missionaries were there, and they
witnessed what took place at the gathering. Miao made a reception
speech, in which he said: “I have sent for you, and you have come. I
said nothing in my letter, but for you to come, and that I had an
important matter to tell you. It is this: I have led you in serving the
Devil. There was nothing I would not dare to do, and nothing that you
would not care to follow me in doing. I have now found something
better. We have often engaged in doubtful enterprises. I have now
found something that there is no doubt about: it is thoroughly
reliable, resting on the strongest possible proof. I have left the
service of the Devil, and I want you to leave it. As I have led you in
his service, I want now to lead you out of it. I want to show you the
way and to present you to the true God. Examine for yourselves;
search to the bottom; and know that I am not deceiving myself nor
you. This doctrine of Jesus is absolute and unmistakable truth.” In
writing of this, Dr. Mateer adds: “These words were spoken with a
fervor and an emphasis that brought tears to my eyes. I thanked God
for them, while I prayed that they might not be in vain. Rice was then
brought, and this young Christian sat down with his friends and
asked a blessing,—the first they had ever heard,—praying for them
directly and specifically. The whole village came to hear, with many
from neighboring villages. Save the time occupied in eating, we
preached to them nearly all day, keeping it up till far into the night.
The ladies also had crowds to hear them all the time.” It was not long
until Miao, partly of himself and partly at the instigation of other
native Christians, came to Chow Yuen, with the determination to
establish himself there as a preacher of his new faith. In August of
the same year the Mateers again visited him, this time at his new
place of residence, and did what they could to help him in his chosen
work. His education and character were such as to promise well.
Following the usual custom of a Chinaman when about to start a
new enterprise, a feast was made; some eighteen guests responded
favorably to invitations to be present, and at the close of the
entertainment a sort of meeting was held, and Dr. Mateer made a
brief statement of what Christianity is, what was the nature of this
enterprise, and what was Miao’s relation to it. He told the audience
that the mission would pay the rental of a small chapel, but that Miao
would work gratuitously, except so far as he might be assisted by the
voluntary contributions of his friends. All the Chinese present, with
the exception of two members from the Tengchow church, were non-
Christians, yet the guests subscribed a sum sufficient to meet the
expenses of the feast and to leave a surplus to go toward the
support of the preacher. Some of his friends had already promised to
help to support him, and had presented him with a fine signboard to
hang in front of the room he occupied as his chapel, and another for
the back of the stand where he stood when speaking. All this was so
exceptional and so hopeful that Dr. Mateer came away rejoicing in
this apparent readiness even of the unevangelized to welcome the
gospel. But here begins quite another turn of the story. Miao had
continued but a few days at this work when a couple of constables
seized him and the man from whom he had rented the room for a
chapel, and hurried them to the office of the magistrate. The owner
was accused of having rented a house to “foreign devils,” and was
forthwith beaten most cruelly to the extent of two hundred blows.
Miao was then called, charged with evil doctrines and practices,
such as kneeling in prayer and calling on unseen personages. In
reply he rehearsed the chief truths of the gospel, and in answer to a
taunting question, whether Jesus could suffer for him, he said that he
so believed. The magistrate ordered him to be beaten fifty blows with
the large bamboo and sent him chained to prison. That evening he
had a second hearing, and the next morning he was marched off,
with a chain about his neck and his hands bound together, thirty
miles away to Tsi Hea, but comforting himself in his weariness and
suffering by singing Christian hymns. The morning after his arrival he
was called before the magistrate and confronted with charges
forwarded from Chow Yuen—such as being in league with foreign
devils, using false pretense of preaching religion, seducing the
people by artful works, being possessed of secret magical arts,
taking forcible possession of a house, influencing the people to form
combinations dangerous to the state, and a whole rigmarole of
offenses, big and little. He was commanded to confess, and when he
would not, he was first beaten three hundred blows with the small
bamboo, and then he received a hundred more in the face. The
second day he was recalled, and when he still would not confess he
was again beaten. The magistrate being especially searching in his
inquiry as to how Christians prayed, and as to what they prayed for,
Miao as the best explanation he could give kneeled and prayed in
his presence. At this stage of the affair Dr. Mateer, having been
informed of the situation, arrived, and secured a promise from the
officer that he would go no further until he heard from his superiors;
and on his return to Tengchow he reported the case to the American
consul at Chefoo, though with little hope that under the prevalent
policy of the American government anything would be done. In an
article in “The Presbyterian Banner” he said: “I shall not soon forget
my feelings when I saw this Christian brother with a chain round his
neck and his body disfigured with bruises for the gospel’s sake. I
could not restrain the tears as I looked him in the face. It is one thing
to talk of persecution a thousand miles away, and another to see it
face to face. I assured him of our sympathy and unceasing prayers
in his behalf, and that I would do my utmost to rescue him....
Numbers of the native Christians have boldly visited Miao in prison,
and some of them even prayed with him. All have been stirred up to
pray as never before, and made to feel that their only hope is that
God will interpose on their behalf. This young Christian has been
guilty of no offense against the state. The charges preferred by the
officers are pure fabrications, the inventions of malice and hatred to
the truth, and would never have been entertained by the officer had
he not been only too glad of a pretext to get the Christians in his
power.” So soon as possible Dr. Mateer went to Chefoo to see the
American consul, and on his return home he learned that Miao had
been released, under some restrictions as to his whereabouts; but
no amends were made for the gross injustice done.
 There was still a long sequel to this affair. After the period which
has since intervened the story seems to be unworthy of the dignity of
a full recital here; though it might be interesting to some as an
example of obstacles encountered by the work of missions away
from places where foreign influences are commonly powerful enough
to prevent them. A condensed account must suffice. It should be
remembered that it was in August that the persecution of Miao
occurred. The purpose of it, at least in part, was to shut Christianity
out of Chow Yuen. To allow this would have been to inflict on that
cause a blow that probably would encourage opposition of a like kind
in other localities; and therefore it evidently was the duty of the
missionaries to prevent it if practicable. Especially was it true of Dr.
Mateer that he was too resolute a spirit to yield to such a violation of
rights secured under treaty with foreign governments. Consequently
late in November he went again to Chow Yuen, in order to secure a
house that could be used as a chapel; for in the interval between
these visits the room previously occupied for this purpose had gone
into other hands and was no longer available. The magistrate also
had been promoted, and another filled his place. Dr. Mateer soon
found a house, rented it, and secured the approval of the magistrate.
Then followed a series of chicanery, brutality, deceit, low cunning,
and petty meanness running over several months, and compelling
two more trips by him in the dead of winter. Once he took with him
two other missionaries, and they went armed with pistols in order to
defend themselves if attacked. The old woman who rented the room
to him, and who in so doing had been animated by ill will to her
relatives and by a desire for money, was seized and beaten by
members of her own family, and likewise by the magistrate. The
same gang beat the middleman who, according to Chinese custom,
had negotiated the bargain. The whole rental was only about ten
dollars. Petty and miserable as the affair was, it had its ludicrous
features; as, for instance, when Dr. Mateer, in his determination not
to be ousted from the house until some satisfactory arrangement
was made, picked up the old woman and set her down on the
outside, where she exhausted her strength in billingsgate. It was not
until the beginning of March that the trouble at Chow Yuen was
finally ended. The issue was a triumph in the main for the
missionary; another acceptable room was, with the official approval
of the magistrate, secured for a chapel, and the money that had
been paid for the rental of the other house was refunded. The best of
all was the fate that overtook the man who had been the ringleader
in the long series of wrongdoings toward the representatives of
Christianity. The magistrate did his best to shield this fellow, but at
last he had to yield. He called the man into his presence, and this is
what was done, as related by Dr. Mateer: “He was required to knock
head to me; and then I took him in hand, and though he tried to
evade, I compelled him to own up to his sin, and to make a distinct
promise of amendment; and then the substance of what he said was
put on record by the clerk, and a copy was given me.” It all illustrates
what a determined man who has right on his side may accomplish
even in an out-of-the-way city in China. It is characteristic of Dr.
Mateer that in one place in his Journal during this wearisome affair
he says that if it were not for his school he would go to Chow Yuen,
and stay there until a settlement is reached. Perhaps in later years
Dr. Mateer and his associates would have regarded it as inexpedient
to go so far in the defense of a convert; but in those earlier days this
was a battle for toleration of Christianity, and not a mere struggle to
right the wrongs of an individual convert.
Other incidents of the dark side to the work of caring for the native
Christians might be given, but I have thought it best to turn chiefly to
the brighter phases of the subject. Of these there were many, and
they were of many kinds; but they were of so unsensational a
character as not now to be likely to awaken much interest in the
reader. They belong to the day of small things for the gospel in
China; but let them not be despised; by and by they will be
treasured, if the record of them is preserved, as the beginnings of
the evangelization of Shantung. When they occurred they brought
the joy of approaching harvest. For example, in connection with that
last trip out to Chow Yuen, Dr. Mateer wrote:

As it was Saturday, however, I felt I must try if possible to

get home, so that the Sabbath service should not be
neglected, when so many inquirers were waiting to hear. I
 found not only the ten who had come from Ping Tu, but some
seven or eight from other places. I had, of course, to
commence teaching them at once. I gave the half of each day
to them, and continued it without interruption for three weeks.
They gave diligent attention to the business of learning. At the
same time Mrs. Mateer had a class of women who were
seeking admission to the church. Last week all who were
considered ready were examined by the session and passed
upon. Twenty were received,—fifteen men and five women.
They were all baptized together yesterday. It was a new sight
in Tengchow, to see such a number standing up at once to
profess the Lord Jesus Christ. I hope that we are all grateful
as we should be for such a signal token of God’s presence
with us. Our hearts are enlarged to look for still greater things
in the future. Our schoolroom was packed to its utmost
capacity, so that when the twenty rose up to present
themselves for baptism, it was with great difficulty that room
could be made for them to stand. Let us hope that the day of
small things is past in this part of China. Chinese officials may
persecute us, and foreign governments ignore us, but they
cannot restrain God’s Spirit. There are still a number of
inquirers.

In the earlier part of his missionary life he frequently made trips of

greater or less length to various places in the province to help the
native Christians by organizing churches, assisting their pastors,
holding services, stimulating to work for the gospel, administering the
sacraments, and in every other available manner forwarding the
cause of Christianity. Hospitality was gladly extended by the people;
and it was as gladly accepted, though not infrequently it introduced
to quarters that were odd and even uncanny. Dr. Mateer described
guest rooms in which he was entertained, and which were a strange
combination of granary, receptacle for lumber, bedchamber and
“parlor,” crammed with all sorts of corresponding articles, not
excepting a coffin conspicuously displayed in a corner. However, in
his own home he lived without ostentation; and on his journeys he
did not find it hard to adapt himself to the customs of his native
entertainers.
In later years, though for the most part he left itinerations to the
younger members of the mission, yet he did not entirely discontinue
them. In February, 1896, for instance, he wrote to the secretaries of
the Board of Missions:

Three weeks ago Mrs. Mateer and I returned from a trip of

seventeen days to the district of Lai Chow, eighty miles
distant. Our friends protested against our taking such a trip in
the winter and in our state of health. We acted on our own
judgment, however, and went, and are benefited rather than
otherwise. The trip was exceedingly profitable. We confined
our visit to two stations, holding special services each day—
morning, afternoon and night. I received eight to the church.
At one station a new church was organized, with twenty-six
members, a branch from the older station. At this older station
there are many inquirers, and the work is in a very hopeful
condition, very largely as the result of the influence of a young
man, an undergraduate of the college, who has been there
teaching a day school for three years.

One of his last journeys of this sort was made not long before his
seventieth birthday, and the following is his record concerning it:

From Tengchow we came overland to Wei Hsien in

shentzas. I made it a point to spend the Sabbath at Lai Chow
fu, and went out and preached morning and afternoon to our
little church at Ning Kie, which is three miles from the city. Dr.
Mills and I were instrumental in founding the station some
thirty-six years ago. It has grown very slowly. Mrs. Mateer had
visited it frequently in subsequent years, and had taught the
women, and there are now a goodly proportion of women in
the church. In the earlier years evangelists were sent to labor
in the region, and to preach to and teach the people. In those
days opposition to the gospel was very great, and progress
 was very slow. In later years, owing to change of policy,
evangelists were not sent, save on an occasional visit, and
the church declined, though it still lived. A few years ago
special efforts were made, and the church increased
somewhat, and finally a native pastor was settled over this
church, in connection with another about fifteen miles away.
Before the expiration of the first year the Boxer uprising
brought the arrest and beating of the pastor and much
persecution to the church. The pastor did not return. The
church was discouraged, and the pastor was called
elsewhere. If we now had an available man, he could be
located at Lai Chow fu; but there is no man.

His last country trip was made some time in December, 1907. This
is the record: “Two weeks ago I went down on the railroad to
Kiaochow to assist our native pastors in a meeting for the women.
There were about seventy there from various other stations, besides
those in town. The meeting was most interesting, and must do a
great deal of good. It was projected and managed by the native
pastors on their own account. There were five native pastors
present, and helping in the meeting. Many women spoke and some
made set addresses.” There were approximately one hundred and
fifty present, many of whom walked miles to be there. His own
speech was a plea to the mothers to consecrate their sons to the
ministry, and the tears ran down his cheeks as, while making it, he
spoke of his own mother.
The reader needs to bear in mind that Dr. Mateer did not operate
as an independent individual, but as the agent of a thoroughly
organized system, in conformity with the government of the
Presbyterian Church and the regulations of the Board of Missions. Of
these agencies there is one that lies wholly outside the constitutional
provisions of the denomination, but that is approved as a part of the
machinery needed for the foreign field. This is what is called the
“mission.” Its members are the missionaries sent out by the Board
and residing near enough to meet together for the transaction of
business. To the mission belong such duties as to locate members
and appoint their work, to make annual estimates of funds and
reënforcements needed, to receive the money from the Board, and
to apply it, according to directions, general or specific. Dr. Mateer
had much to do with inaugurating the “executive committees” now so
widely adopted by the missions. Many questions affecting the
operations sustained through the Board, of necessity came before
the annual mission meeting for discussion and action. Lines of policy
as to conduct of the work out in the field, if involving important
features, are left for decision to the Board; but full and frank
consideration of them by the members of the missions, either when
in session or as individuals, is usually welcomed.
An important discussion in which Dr. Nevius and Dr. Mateer were
especially conspicuous arose on their field over a theory advanced
by Dr. Nevius in his “Methods of Missions.” It was no personal
controversy, though, of course, the respective personalities of two
such strong, positive, earnest men inevitably tinged it. The question
at issue mainly concerned the pecuniary support of native Christians
as agents in the evangelization of their own people. No attempt need
here be made to state with fullness the positions taken or the
arguments employed. Broadly, the policy advocated by Dr. Nevius
was that the main work of evangelization should be thrown on the
native Christians, and that those who could read and understand
“the doctrine” should voluntarily and without compensation instruct
those who could not; while the foreign missionaries, paid as
heretofore by the Board, should give themselves to a general
superintendence and to periodical examinations of the catechumens
and scholars taught by the native church members. Dr. Mateer was
just as earnestly as Dr. Nevius in favor of utilizing native Christians in
the evangelization of their people, and was just as eager to develop
among them self-support, but he was thoroughly convinced that
conditions were not ripe in China for the radical policy of withholding
from native laborers, as a rule, all pay from the funds of the Board;
and that an attempt of this sort before the proper time would result in
serious disaster. This brief statement will suffice to show that it was a
question over which wise and good men might readily differ, and that
the fact that they discussed it earnestly and fully is a sign of healthy
life. It seems to me to be a problem that cannot be satisfactorily
solved by theoretical argument, or by votes in a mission, or by even
the decision of a board. The only crucial test is actual trial. All that
needs to be said further as to this discussion is, on the one hand, to
emphasize the fact that Dr. Mateer, in his care of the native
Christians and churches, often labored hard and long to bring up
congregations, in the support of their pastors and evangelists, to the
measure of giving for which they were able; and, on the other hand,
that he thought he saw in certain fields evidence of the bad
consequences of the policy he controverted.
Until it is desirable to organize the churches of a given foreign
missionary field, after the order prescribed by the Presbyterian form
of government, the mission must continue in the entire supervision;
but it is the practice, just as soon as the way is open, to set up
presbyteries and synods, and to commit to them those matters which
belong to their jurisdiction. In these bodies ruling elders, as the
official lay representatives of the native churches, and all the native
ordained ministers sit as the equals in authority with the ordained
foreign ministers. The Board, unless in exceptional cases, has not
been accustomed to turn over to them the administration of the funds
forwarded for use on the field, or such matters as concern the policy
and plans it adopts; but all that pertains to the organization of
churches, the settlement of pastors, the acceptance of candidates
for the ministry and their licensure and ordination, and the
administration of discipline for the ministers, with complaints and
appeals from the churches, is left to the presbytery. Of course, as
converts and churches and native ministers increase, the tendency
is to put them, as the majority, in control in these bodies. It is a
system which opens the way for some dangers; nevertheless it is, in
the nature of the situation, the only course to pursue, and unless
abused, it has a most wholesome influence on the native Christians.
It brings home to them the fact that, equally with the foreigners who
have given them the gospel, they have privileges as members of the
church of Christ, and also their responsibility as such. Dr. Mateer
believed with all his heart in the setting up of these regular
ecclesiastical bodies so soon as possible. Late in November, 1865,
he was one of the little band who organized the Presbytery of
Shantung, at a meeting held at Chefoo, when as yet there were no
native ministers to take part. The next meeting was held the
following October at Tengchow, and he was elected moderator and
stated clerk. It is evident that if a presbytery is to be of any
considerable value to a native member the language used must be
his own, not that of the foreign missionary. With this understanding,
the following from Dr. Mateer’s Journal concerning that meeting can
be better appreciated: “It was voted that hereafter all the
proceedings be in Chinese, and at it we went. It was very awkward
at first, making and putting motions, but after some practice we got
along better. We had a very pleasant meeting indeed. One of the
chief items of business was a call presented by the native church for
Mr. Mills, which he accepted, and we arranged for his installation.”
It was ten years before such progress had been made out in the
province that it was practicable to hold a presbytery in the rural
regions. In a letter to his mother, dated December 24, 1877, Dr.
Mateer said: “The meeting of the presbytery in the country marks an
era in our progress in Shantung. Many of the Christians from all the
region were assembled, and evidently got much good from what they
saw and heard. Our presbytery is getting to be an important event,
and a power among the native churches. Our desire is that it may be
more and more felt.” Sometimes the meetings were saddened by the
cases of discipline, after a native ministry began to be enrolled; but if
the case demanded it, even deposition from the sacred office and
excommunication from the church were imposed, and the native
elders and ministers were sturdy supporters of adequate sentences.
In contrast with this was the joy of receiving candidates for the
ministry, and sending them out to preach the gospel as they seemed
to be ready for that work. Occasionally a man up in years, and
without thorough education, but apparently qualified to be effective
as a preacher, is authorized by the presbytery to “exercise his gifts”;
but usually those who offer themselves are young men who after
long courses of study, and careful examination, are sent on this
errand. For instance, in his report for 1874 as stated clerk, Dr.
Mateer said:
 Considerable time was taken up in the presbytery by the
examination of candidates for the ministry. These were
thorough, and so far as they went were sustained with great
credit. One candidate was licensed to preach. He is not
young, as licentiates usually are, being about sixty. He is,
however, full of zeal for God, and may yet do good service.
One of our licentiates was ordained as an evangelist. This is
the first native preacher who has been ordained by this
presbytery. It marks a new step in our work, one for which we
are devoutly thankful to God. We have no more important
work to do than to raise up well-qualified natives to preach the
gospel to their countrymen. We trust this one will soon be
followed by others.

Dr. Mateer was careful to treat the native elders and ministers as
the equals of the foreign missionaries, in the ecclesiastical bodies
and elsewhere; and as a consequence he commanded their
confidence, so that he was able sometimes to render important
services by healing threatened dissensions. This, as might be
supposed, was especially true of his own “boys,” who had as
students learned to revere both his judgment and his fraternal spirit.
In writing to “The Presbyterian Banner” concerning the meeting of
the Presbytery of Shantung, in September, 1869, he said: “The
matter of the formation of a synod in China was discussed, and a
circular letter was prepared, and ordered to be sent to the other
presbyteries urging the propriety of such a step at once. It is now
twenty years since the General Assembly took action looking toward
and opening the way for the formation of this synod.” That body held
its first meeting at Shanghai in October of the following year. The
synod in the Presbyterian system is the next higher organization
above the presbytery, and consists of all the ordained ministers of a
larger district already containing three or more presbyteries, and of
ruling elders representing the churches; or it may be constituted from
delegates appointed by the presbyteries on a fixed basis. It has the
right to review all presbyterial action, and also has authority to
originate measures within its constitutional jurisdiction. Among the
missionaries in China at that time there was a considerable number
who regarded the synod as a sort of fifth wheel to the coach, and as
not likely to be capable of rendering a service worth its cost in money
and time. Under indirect form this phase of the subject came into
warm and protracted debate in that first meeting, and may be said to
have been fought out to a settlement. Dr. Mateer was a strong
believer in the importance of the synod, and in debate, and in other
ways, he threw the whole weight of his influence avowedly on that
side of the issue, and helped to win. Other problems were of such a
character as also to arouse his interest to a high degree. Ought the
language used in the body to be limited to the Mandarin or ought it to
include local dialects? On this question, of course, he stood for the
Mandarin. Ought a theological institution to be established; and if so,
where? As to this, a sort of compromise was effected, and an appeal
was sent home for a share in the “Memorial Fund,” to establish in
China one or more such schools, but leaving location to be
determined later. The synod consisted of twenty-four members, ten
of them being foreign missionaries, and fourteen native pastors and
elders. The proceedings had to be translated, during the various
sessions, into several different dialects, in order to be made
intelligible to all. The body sat for ten days, and then adjourned to
assemble the next year at Ningpo. It was in connection with Dr.
Mateer’s attendance at Shanghai that he was induced to take
temporary charge of the mission press.
The second meeting of the synod was held at Ningpo. Dr. Mateer
was chosen moderator. Writing in his Journal concerning that
meeting, he said:

The great difficulty of the synod was the language, and this
was indeed no small embarrassment. As I was moderator, I
felt it more than any other. It was all I could do to tell what was
going on at times. If it had not been for the practice I had
through the summer in Shanghai, I should have been quite
lost. The most interesting discussion we had was on the
qualifications of candidates for the ministry. The native
members insisted that they must learn English, and the
 foreign members opposed. The native brethren finally carried
their point. The discussion at some points of its progress was
really exciting, and not a little amusing.

The next meeting was held at Chefoo, and as the retiring

moderator he preached the opening sermon. In his Journal he says:
“I had prepared the sermon quite carefully, having written it all out,
and so had to read it. It is the only sermon I ever wrote out fully in
Chinese. I found reading a Chinese sermon very awkward and
embarrassing.” A committee of which he was a member had been
appointed by the preceding meeting at Ningpo to prepare for
deliberative bodies a compendium of technical terms,—for the lack
of which in Chinese they had been seriously hindered,—and also to
formulate rules of order. They made a report which was approved,
and authorized for use in the synod and in the presbyteries.
One other excerpt from the records of his pen must conclude the
story of his work in the synod, though it was continued down through
his subsequent years. He said:

Delegates, officially deputed, were present from the mission

of the Presbyterian Church South; also from the mission of
the United Presbyterian Church in Scotland; and from the
independent Presbytery of Amoy, composed of the missions
of the American Dutch Reformed and the English
Presbyterian Churches combined. They all expressed a
desire for mutual coöperation, and for the ultimate union of all
the Presbyterians in China into one Chinese Presbyterian
Church. A committee was appointed to correspond with the
various Presbyterian bodies or missions in China, and
prepare the way for an ultimate union. This union may not be
accomplished for many years, but that it should come as soon
as practicable seems to be the almost unanimous opinion of
all concerned.

In 1907 one long advance was made toward the realization of the
desire so earnestly expressed by that synod a third of a century
before. After preliminary consultations extending over a number of
years, representatives of eight distinct missions, operated by as
many different Presbyterian denominations of Europe and America,
met together, and constituted “The Presbyterian Church of China,”
and also offered a welcome to any other Chinese churches of like
faith and practice to unite with them. Dr. Mateer thought that on
account of the size of China and the consequent expense of travel
and variety of speech, it would be better to make two ecclesiastical
bodies out of this material. Belonging to the new organization, there
were, besides the foreign missionaries, about a hundred native
ministers, and forty thousand communicants. Dr. Mateer was not a
member of the body which met to declare and organize this union;
but, being present, he was invited to sit as a corresponding member.
Under the regulations of his American denomination, the names of
ordained foreign missionaries entering such new churches on the
foreign field as that just mentioned are enrolled in the minutes of the
home General Assembly on a separate list; and these ministers are
entitled to be received by the presbyteries without the examination
required of those who come from other denominations in foreign
countries. This was the ecclesiastical status of Dr. Mateer when he
died. He was a member of the Presbyterian Church in China; but he
was still enrolled by the church of his fathers.
The highest of all the organizations within the Presbyterian system
is the General Assembly. Its supervision, within constitutional limits,
extends over synods, presbyteries, and individual ministers and
churches, and it has other distinct functions pertaining to the entire
denomination throughout the world. Dr. Mateer was a commissioner
from his presbytery in China to the Assembly which met in 1880 in
New York; and again to the Assembly which met in Los Angeles in
1903. In this last he was nominated for moderator, but failed of
election, for reasons not in any way disparaging to him. It is well
understood that an election to that office is contingent on so many
incidental things that the choice can seldom be foreseen. Local
influences at Los Angeles were strongly thrown in favor of the
successful candidate, meaning by these the representation in the
Assembly and the Presbyterian visitors from all the Rocky Mountain
country and from the Pacific coast. Besides, to many of the
commissioners Dr. Mateer was a man but slightly known. His work
had been great, but it had also been quiet. Nor when on his
furloughs had he in speaking to the churches won renown by bursts
of missionary eloquence. He made a very creditable run for the
moderatorship, and was beaten by a man of high standing in the
church. He was appointed chairman of the Judicial Committee.
 XI
THE SHANTUNG COLLEGE

“While I live I cannot cease to have a vital interest in the college.... I

cannot bear to be wholly away from the college to which my life has
been given.”—letter to secretary brown, April 10, 1907.

The change of the name of the school which Dr. Mateer had
founded and nurtured for nearly two decades was made at the
formal request of the members of the Shantung Presbyterian
Mission, sent to the Board under date of February 14, 1881. It was
accompanied by a “plan,” and that part of the paper was as follows:

I. That the Tengchow Boys’ High School be organized into

and constituted a college, to be called “The College of
Shantung.”
II. That it be carried on and governed by a board of six
trustees nominated by the Shantung Mission, and confirmed
by the Board of Foreign Missions.
III. That the college embrace a six years’ course of study in
Chinese classics, general science, and Christian ethics;
including particularly “The Four Books” and “Five Classics,”
Chinese history, with Biblical and general history,
mathematics, physical, mental and moral sciences, evidences
of Christianity, and so forth.
IV. That the aim of the college be to educate thoroughly
both in Chinese and western learning; and to do this from the
standpoint and under the influence of Christianity.
V. That the Chinese language be the medium of instruction
throughout the course, English being taught only as an extra
in special cases.
 VI. That there be connected with the college a department
to prepare pupils to enter it.
VII. That it be the ultimate design to make the students
attending the college self-supporting; and that in order to do
this the style of living be strictly on the Chinese plane; and
that natives be trained as fast as possible to man the college
with efficient professors.
VIII. That the college be located for the present at
Tengchow, leaving open the question of its removal to a more
central position at some future time.

For this request the main reasons were added in extenso. They
are too long to be given here; but they can be, in the main,
compressed into two general statements. One of these was the need
of a high-grade institution of this sort in northern China, and
especially in the great province of Shantung. It was conceded that
Tengchow was not as central a location as the college might
ultimately require; but, being a literary city and a treaty port, and as
yet free from the special temptations and corrupting influences of a
mixed foreign population, it at least temporarily had marked
advantages. The other general statement is that the institution was
already in fact a college by reason of its curriculum, and was
equipped with buildings and outfit suitable for the advanced work
which a college ought to do. In order that it might retain the position it
had won, and in order to secure endowment and reputation, the new
name was very desirable.
In a letter dated April 4, 1885, the mission appealed to the Board
for a new house to be built for the accommodation of the chief
foreign assistant in the college, and incidentally gave a statement as
to the plant. They said: “At a remarkably small cost to the Board it
has come into possession of plain but extensive premises, which are
very well adapted to the purpose. With the small additions and
changes proposed for the current year it will have good boarding and
dormitory accommodations for eighty or ninety pupils, with roomy
yards and courts. It has also two large schoolrooms, three recitation
rooms, one large lecture room, a philosophical apparatus room, a
chemical apparatus room with a shop and storeroom. It has also a
substantial stone observatory, costing one hundred and sixty
dollars.” In 1894, a grant for new buildings having been made by the
Board, steps looking to their erection were taken. Writing of these,
March 23, 1895, Dr. Mateer said, “We staked off the ground to-day,
and will make a start at once.” That year, however, on account of his
duties on the committee for the revision of the Mandarin translation
of the Scriptures, he laid down the presidency of the college, though
he did not cease to assist in the instruction and in the management
of it. February 8, 1896, he wrote to the Board: “The headship of the
college is now in Mr. Hayes’s hands, and with it the major part of the
work. I am especially thankful that the interests of the college are in
the hands of a capable man; nevertheless, when I am in Tengchow a
considerable share of the general responsibility still clings to me, and
no inconsiderable share of the work, and Mrs. Mateer’s share is in
nowise decreased. Our new buildings are finished, and are an
unspeakable convenience. The wonder is how we did without them
so long. They have served to raise our college in the estimate of the
people of the whole city.” These new buildings consisted of a main
edifice of two stories, dormitories, and chemical laboratory. The old
temple structure was converted into a chapel and various alterations
were made as to uses of the smaller houses. The original estimate of
the outlay was eight thousand dollars. Whether this sum was
sufficient is not stated in any of the records that have come into my
hands; but inasmuch as nothing is said about a deficit, it is probable
that there was none, except such as Dr. Mateer and others on the
ground met out of their own pockets. The new buildings were
supplied with steam heat and electric light from a house specially
fitted for the purpose, with a tall chimney that seemed as if a
landmark for all the region; and some other additions were
subsequently made by means of special contributions. Taken
altogether, the plant, into the possession of which the Tengchow
College eventually came, though consisting largely of houses that
were externally without architectural pretension, and in part of the
Chinese order and somewhat inadequate, was extensive enough to
indicate the magnitude of the work the institution was doing.