“Awesome.” She let go of his hand and jumped up. “You’ve been taking care of me all week, so tonight, I’m taking care of you. Take a nap, read a book, or whatever, while I finish making our dinner.”
“In that case, the first thing you can do to take care of me is to give me a kiss.” He spread his legs, held his hands out, and waggled his fingers.
“Said the big bad wolf.” She stepped between his legs, put her palms on his shoulders, leaned her face down, stuck her pink tongue out, and licked his lips.
“The big bad wolf wants to eat you up.” He put his hands on her hips and tried to pull her onto his lap.
“Oh, no you don’t. Dinner first. I’m in charge, remember?”
When she tried to push away, he slid his hands down the silky material of her pants, noting on his way to her thighs that she didn’t have panties on. “Nice. I like this new thing you have against wearing panties.” He let her go before he ended up dragging her down to the couch with him. “Can I help?”
As she walked away, she glanced over her shoulder, giving him a sultry smile. “No, just sit there and fantasize about what’s going to happen between us tonight.”
He could do that. Her hips swayed with each step she took away from him, and his gaze zeroed in on her ass. Did she mean what he hoped she meant? “How’s your head?”
“Haven’t had a headache for two days.”
That he was about to have dinner with a sexy woman who he personally liked seemed something of a miracle, considering the last several months. Even more noteworthy, he’d only had two nightmares since bunking on her couch. Was that because she was near? He’d started thinking of her as his calm in the middle of an angry sea, and being with her soothed his soul. If he had to talk to anyone about his problems besides the head doc, he would choose her. What did that say about his feelings for her? Missing her even though she was only in the other room, he headed for the kitchen.
Dinner had been delicious, and now Cody sat on his porch with Riley, who was bundled up in a blanket, only her nose and eyes visible. She’d wanted him to play for her, and she’d wanted to sit on his porch while he did, even though the Florida weather had finally turned cold. She reminded him of a moth, snug in its little cocoon, and he swallowed a smile, thinking how he’d like to peel her out of all her coverings until the beautiful butterfly that was her was exposed.
He drank a few swallows of coffee, laced with Kahlúa—what he considered a girly drink. Wasn’t bad, though, and that was another thing. Since he’d been hanging with her, he hadn’t touched a drop of scotch, his only alcohol the one or two beers they’d drink in the evenings. He was learning to like the stuff, limes and all.
Dinner had been great, and they’d kept their conversation light. Now it was time to talk about important things. For the first time in days, he wished he had a scotch. He strummed a few chords, trying to think how to start. At the beginning. Wasn’t that the best place?
“I came home from my last deployment fairly unscathed, or so I thought.” He kept playing, the soft notes somehow keeping him grounded. “About a week later, I’d close my eyes to go to sleep, and things I’d done and seen started playing through my head like I was watching a movie. Every kill, every time I didn’t pull the trigger even though the man I’d sighted through the scope of my rifle was an insurgent . . .”
He glanced at her and shrugged. “Don’t even get me started about the Rules of Engagement.”
“I understand a little of that from watching American Sniper.” She slid her hand out of the blanket and picked up her coffee cup. “You knew he was a bad guy, but your hands were tied without irrefutable proof.”
“Yeah, that’s how it was, and how many of our guys were hurt or killed because of those rules? I leave him alive knowing what I know, and he comes back the next day and kills one of us. If anything, that’s what I thought would haunt me, and it does when I let myself think about it. But that’s not my nightmare.”
“I’m listening,” she said when he paused.
He smiled. “I know.” He drank the last of his coffee. “So there I was, the only one left from my SEAL team, the guys you met at K2 having opted out by then, and I get assigned to a marine platoon. I was six days from returning home when I went out on one last operation. I’d already scoped out where I’d position myself on a rooftop building. The last thing I remember was heading there with my spotter before waking up back at camp in a bed with a doctor peering down at me. Apparently, I’d been hit on the head, and my teammates found me out cold on the street.”