Lacey’s eyes were wide. “Wow. You’ve been busy.”
Mick let out a slow breath coming to his personal awards. “This one here,” he started, pointing to a ribbon near the top, “is a purple heart.”
“You got a purple heart?”
“Two,” Mick answered casually. “The first was for this knife wound in hand-to-hand combat with an insurgent who was trying to toss a grenade at my team.” He turned on his side, revealing a well-healed scar on his side that was camouflaged amid his rippling muscle tone.
“My God.”
“The gold star on it means I got a second purple heart for getting shot in the shoulder on my last mission.” He lifted himself up a bit and pointed to a scar just below his shoulder.
Lacey paled.
“And these are just some more personal awards. Bronze Star with combat V. Joint Meritorious Service Medal. Navy Cross from my last mission with the SEALs.”
She touched her hand to her mouth, and he must have seen the uneasiness in her eyes, because he rushed through the last.
“And these ones are Navy Commendation and Navy Achievement Medals, and some Unit Commendation Medals.”
With Lacey at a loss for words, the silence between them was broken only by the faint crackle of dying embers.
Mick tried to lighten the tone. “So, all in all, we call it chest salad.”
“Chest salad?”
Mick just smiled and nodded.
“I call it impressive, myself.”
He shook his head dismissively. “It’s not much, really. It’s just my job. We pin things on for everything. It’s like wearing your résumé on your uniform.”
Lacey stroked his shoulder where the worst of the two combat scars seemed to tell a story of its own. “First time I saw this one, you were mowing Maeve’s lawn.” She smiled at the memory, feeling as though a lifetime had passed since then. “I always wondered what it was from, but was too afraid to ask.”
“You shouldn’t have been afraid to ask me. You can ask me anything.”
Leaning closer, she kissed the scar meaningfully. “That’s not how I was afraid. I was too scared to hear the truth. I sometimes try to forget what you did, and what you’ll do again. The risks you take. The thought of something bad happening to you…”
Mick took her in his arms. “Hey. I’m not letting anything happen. There are always risks in life, but I’m one of the best trained out there.”
Lacey’s smile was brief as she tugged the shirt from Mick’s grasp, this time to wrap it over her naked body. Her fingers reverently touched the many emblems pinned to his shirt that now had so much more meaning to her. “So this is why everyone salutes you when you walk by?” she asked with a coy smile.
“Or tells me when I’m supposed to salute to someone else.”
“Exactly. But that’s not as much of a turn-on.”
Mick laughed. “Okay, then. Back to the image of people saluting at me...”
His laughter was buried beneath her kiss. She let her hair fall onto his chest as she tasted him, the hint of tomatoes and onions reminding her of the leftovers on the stove. She groaned. “I forgot to put the rest of the chicken in the refrigerator. It’s probably bad by now.”
“Honey?”
Lacey’s expression warmed at the endearment. “Yes?”
“No offense to your dinner. But it doesn’t hold a candle to what you offered for dessert.” He wrestled her back underneath him and stroked the side of her face affectionately. Leaning over her to kiss her, he stopped, brow furrowed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just wondering something actually. Do you like balls?”
Lacey’s eyes widened. “Uh, I like yours. Is that what I’m supposed to say?”
Mick laughed. “No, I mean the kind where you dress up in a gown and dance and all that.”
“I haven’t been to one.”
“Well, the Navy is having a big one in February. Do you want to go?”
Lacey glowed at the invitation, and for a fleeting moment pictured herself sweeping across a dance floor in Mick’s arms. She sighed, wriggling out from under him. “No. Thanks, though.”
“No?”
“Mick, it’s a really sweet offer. But I don’t have a ball gown, and I doubt even Maeve has one I could borrow.” Frowning, her lips formed a tight line. “And I’m a bit tight on money till I sell one of these listings.”
Mick shrugged. “So, I’ll buy you one.”
“No way. I really wouldn’t feel comfortable with that.” Grinning, she added, “Besides, you are way too masculine to be playing fairy godmother.”