by Zoe York
“I thought you would have for sure. Woulda bet money you were a lifer.”
“That was the plan.” She shrugged. “But plans change.”
Adam wondered if her ex was in the military. It would track for some of the asshole behaviour he’d seen, but people were dysfunctional all over the place. And before he could ask, while he was still mulling over if he should ask, the waiter returned to take Isla’s drink order. He had menus in his hand, too. “Do we want food?”
Isla gave him an uncertain look. “Do you have time for lunch?”
“For you, I have all day.” And he meant it, too. His plan when he’d come downtown was to do some shopping, because it was one of his last weekends living in the city. It was, in hindsight, a lonely, boring way to spend the day, especially when the alternative was an afternoon on a patio, catching up with an old friend.
There was something else, though. A tiny, whispering thought that if he hadn’t headed to the market to get a coffee first, if that hadn’t been the only parking garage that had spots big enough for his truck, he might not have seen Isla’s bake stand at all. Could have left the city behind and gone back to Pine Harbour without knowing his former commander was out there doing something similar to what Adam was doing—starting life over again in a new career.
They took their time eating lunch, and while they didn’t order any more drinks—both of them switching to lemonade with their meal—Isla still found herself pleasantly buzzed in a way as they lingered over the last few bites. The conversation had gone in every different direction, from funny to serious and back again, and it felt so effortless after more than a year of feeling very alone in this world.
“Funny that we both went back to school this year, eh?” Adam paused as their plates were cleared away, then nodded that they’d like to see the dessert menu. “How did you find it?”
“A necessary evil.”
“Same!” He chuckled. “I worried I was being ungrateful.”
“Not at all. It was so hard to start over as a trainee who really didn’t know what she was doing,” she confessed. “The most humbling thing I’ve ever done.”
He couldn’t keep the shock off his face.
She waved her hands. “I know, after Afghanistan, that probably sounds awful.”
“Not at all,” he said, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin, and shoving his empty plate away. “But I worry about who the hell is teaching pastry chefs if it’s that traumatic.”
“My own stubbornness might have been a part of it.” She shuddered. “I forced myself to be the best, even at things I wasn’t naturally good at.”
“Like what?”
“My knife skills aren’t that great.”
“You can’t do the…” Adam mimed a perfect rapid chop, his fingers curling precisely.
She shook her head. “I like to grab a cleaver and just get it done. Whack.”
They both burst out laughing as someone at the next table obviously caught the wrong part of that conversation.
“It’s not that hard, it’s just muscle memory and practice. I just…” She leaned in conspiratorially. “I don’t care, you know? And it turns out, that’s actually pretty important for me.”
“Life is too short for perfection?”
Exactly. And she’d wasted four years on a lying narcissist.
“So can you run a pop-up bake sale with only so-so knife skills that are probably secretly spectacular?” His eyes danced, and she didn’t miss how he turned the tease into an unexpected compliment.
A stark contrast to how she’d minimized her own abilities. “They’re secretly not unspectacular,” she admitted. “And I hope so. It’s an uphill climb to get the business going, but once I have all the pieces in play, I think it has a pretty profitable business plan.”
They were still talking when the bill arrived. Adam grabbed it before she could stop him. She pulled out her wallet anyway, but he shook his head. “This is my treat.”
“Thank you. This was really nice.” That wasn’t the right word at all. It had been so much more than nice. There was something about Adam that set her at ease now, and in a way it felt like a full-circle turn on their friendship in the army. He’d leaned on her experience then; it had been her fourth tour, and his first. But there had always been a goodness to him, and she wasn’t surprised he’d turned into this thoughtful, caring man now. Even when he’d been frightened and unsure, he’d had his buddies’ backs. As soon as she saw him this morning, all those memories had flooded back.
And then over lunch, she’d discovered a whole new Adam Kincaid. A man on a mission. Unlike her new career, which was fragile and precarious—literally and figuratively, depending on what she was doing with sugar—he had found something deeply meaningful and stable. She was impressed, and found herself wanting to know even more. That aching curiosity inside her, that clawing feeling like she should reach across the table and touch him again and again, was probably more about herself than him. But she couldn’t just say goodbye. “When do you move home?”
“End of the month.”
“Do you have exams next? What’s your schedule like?” She paused, not wanting to overstep, but fuck it. She might never see him again if she didn’t say something. “Do you want to catch up again?”
“I’m pretty busy during the week.” He hesitated, too, and she wondered if he’d blow her off. “But I’m free next weekend.”
“Me, too.” She would have cancelled any plans even if she had them, which she didn’t.
He grinned. “Then it’s a date.”
Chapter Two
The following Saturday, Isla took the subway downtown for dinner. Adam was going dancing that night with his classmates, but he was coming in from the suburbs early to have drinks and a meal with her first.
When she emerged from the station, Adam was waiting for her. He was more dressed up this week, his thick hair tamed and slicked back. Instead of blue jeans and boots, he was wearing polished shoes and dress pants—but ones for clubbing, clearly. His shirt was fitted, tucked in, and the whole outfit left nothing to the imagination.
She whistled when she stopped in front of him. “You look positively virile,” she teased.
“Have to look good for my date.” He winked. “And then look better than the kids in my class tonight, too.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Let’s eat and you can tell me more about that.”
It was her treat today, and she took Adam to a restaurant owned by one of her teachers, a quiet little space with a tasting menu and an extensive wine list.
Adam took one look at the menu and told her he would eat whatever she wanted to try. “We’re supposed to share, right? That’s the idea?”
“Yep.”
“Then surprise me. You’re the chef, you tell me what’s going to be great. I’m here for the company.”
“Charmer,” she muttered, smiling. “Any allergies?”
“Nope.”
After ordering, Isla asked Adam about his exams that week. He told her about a vertical obstacle course they had to complete under a time limit. “You start with a hose carry, up a fire escape. It’s bundled, over your shoulder, so off-balance, but it’s not bad.”
“How many storeys?”
“Three. Then you drop the hose, and a partner on the ground tosses you a rope so you can haul up another bundle. Hand over hand. It’s a different set of skills from army stuff, but the basic principles are the same. Conserve energy, work smarter, not harder. Pace yourself because the hard stuff is at the end.”
“Sounds like fun.” And she was serious.
Adam took it as she meant it. He nodded. “It is. The stamina part is really important. And the younger guys have it like crazy.”
“You’ve mentioned the age difference before.”
He grinned. “I think it’s because I’m the youngest in my family. Back home, people call me The Kincaid Kid. I like that I’m the old man in my class. I think the only time I haven’
t either been way younger or way older was on our tour in Afghanistan.” His face sobered up, his mouth pulling tight. “We were all too young, then. But at least we were in it together.”
She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “Yeah.”
They had bonded that tour. All of them. In over their heads. It had been Isla’s third roto, and the first one to not be fully, properly staffed at all levels. Her section was more than half reservists, all excellent soldiers, but only Adam had done the full pre-tour work-up training. And the leadership overseas had been in shambles, too. It was the first tour for her where shit went sideways. She’d stepped into a leadership role someone else should have occupied, and they all got through it.
But when they got home, most of the troops under her had returned to their own units. Adam and his friend Stevie had returned to the peninsula. Others had gone to Hamilton, Vancouver, and Calgary.
They’d lost touch.
“I’m sorry I didn’t keep tabs on you guys,” she said softly.
He gave her a surprised look. “That wasn’t necessary.”
She disagreed. “In hindsight…”
Now it was he who squeezed her hand. “We’re all still hanging in there.”
“Tell me about Stevie.” She leaned in, hanging on his every word as Adam told her about his friend moving out to B.C., turning into a ski bum. It sounded wonderful.
“We worked as house movers for a while. It was good for him to be home, for a while, but then he got restless. He likes to be alone on the slopes.”
When their food arrived, Adam had lots of questions about why she’d ordered each one. The wine was good, the food was great, and the company was best of all. Before she knew it, it was dark outside and both of the desserts they’d ordered had been polished off. A second bottle of wine was nearly finished, too, and she was feeling the effects of that all over. A good kind of buzzy.
“I should get going,” she said reluctantly, because she had nowhere else to be that night, but he did. “You have a party to get to.”
“I wouldn’t call a bunch of drunk kids blowing off steam a party.”
She laughed. “You used to.”
“Damn, you knew about those?”
That made her laugh even harder. “Young corporals and master corporals are not great at being subtle.”
He gave her an aw shucks look that made him look five years younger. Just as charming, but more vulnerable in a most unexpected way. He’d once used that charm to cover up fear. She’d seen it then, and she realized now that was the big difference.
This Adam oozed confidence. He knew he was capable of this new career. The way he talked about his training, with pride and a cocky knowledge, was totally different from how he saw his role in a complicated military campaign. Firefighting felt like a better fit for him, a more direct use of his kindness and compassion. And almost certainly more likely to give him feedback that he was actually making a difference.
That younger man she’d just caught a glimpse of again had seemed unmoored and uncertain. Tonight’s Adam was neither. He was intense and earnest, still very charming, but with a new depth—which would be dangerous for her to get too distracted by, but she felt the irresistible tug anyway.
Outside the restaurant, she waved in the direction of the subway. Where she should head to, so she could go home and crawl into bed. “Well, have fun tonight.”
“Do you have to get going? We could grab a drink, keep talking.”
“What about your classmates?”
“I can blow them off.” He paused. “Or you could come with, if you wanted?”
The last time she’d gone clubbing would have been the winter after they returned from Afghanistan. Four years ago.
That woman felt a decade younger than Isla felt lately. She was only thirty-five, but a divorce and a radical career change had taken their toll on her. Except, right now, she felt absolutely up for it. “Are you sure?”
His face lit up. “I’d love to have a friend there.”
Why the hell not?
The dance club was a short walk away, and a line snaked down the sidewalk. Isla was relieved that her black skinny jeans and silky grey blouse didn’t look out of place against the younger people waiting ahead of them. It didn’t hurt that Adam managed to make direct eye contact with the bouncer and, through the magic of his wholesome farm boy charm and “is he a Hemsworth cousin?” good looks, he got them waved to the front of the line.
He clapped the bouncer on the shoulder. “Thanks, man. We’ve got friends inside.”
The bouncer winked at Isla. “We’ll let him think it’s his pretty smile that got you in, yeah? Can I see some ID?”
Adam didn’t miss how the bouncer flirted with Isla—or how genuinely surprised she looked at the compliment. She blushed as she handed over her driver’s license.
That wasn’t the Captain Petersen he remembered.
The Isla he had met in Petawawa on work-up training for tour had been a force of nature with a magnetic draw. Everyone wanted to work with her, and everyone had wanted to get in her pants, too, but the two were mutually exclusive. She didn’t date NCOs, the rumour mill promised bitterly, so everyone took the consolation prize of getting to be under her command.
It would never have been appropriate back in the day to ask her how she felt about all the hot young kids panting after her, but now he wondered if she’d ever known, or if the Wonder Woman myth they’d spun about her had been one-sided.
Now that he thought about it, it wasn’t like Wonder Woman was exactly aware of her impact on men, either.
“What’s the game plan?” he murmured as he guided her inside, his hand lightly hovering behind her back. “How long do you want to stay? Do we need a signal if you want me to get scarce if someone buys you a drink?”
She laughed. “This is your thing! How long we stay is up to you. And nobody is going to want to buy me a drink.”
He was pretty sure she’d be approached twice before they made it to the bar, but before he could say that, the crowd parted and he caught sight of his classmates, who waved and hollered. The first wave of people who would want to hit on Isla, he was sure. “There they are, let me introduce you.”
Over the loud pulse of the music, he made a round of names that probably nobody would remember. It didn’t matter. His heart hadn’t been set on hanging out with everyone tonight, and after dinner with Isla, he felt that indifference even more keenly. He liked the way she looked at him and listened to his ideas. He loved the way she nodded along as he told her about his dreams for his new job, what he hoped it might turn into—a career in his hometown, something he could be proud of, something that would make a difference.
The way she looked at him was different from how anyone else had ever looked at him. Women liked his muscles and his smile. His brothers saw him as a burden, a worry. Anyone from his parents’ generation remembered him as a skinny problem child, too complicated to help.
He hadn’t needed help. The Kincaid brothers had survived just fine, and he was going to show everyone that the Kincaid Kid, the youngest of the bunch, finally had his shit together.
It felt like an uphill battle to everyone except Isla, who beamed at him.
No, he didn’t want to spend the night with anyone other than his long-lost friend. They didn’t have much time left, anyway. He was going home soon.
As predicted, though, he had competition for her company. Less than a minute after he finished making the introductions, the nearest kid—and in that moment, Adam absolutely thought of him as a fucking child, not old enough to ask Isla for the time—offered to buy her a drink.
“Do you want a beer?” he asked, his eyes bright, like he’d already had a few and wanted her to catch up. He didn’t know they’d already had more than enough at the restaurant and were already loose and ready to dance.
“I’m sorry?” she asked, moving around Adam to stand close to the infant. Adam resisted the urge to catch her around the waist an
d haul her back against him. “What was that?”
“I said, lemme buy you a drink.” And then he winked.
Isla giggled and glanced back at Adam. She looked delighted. Then she shook her head. “I’m okay for now.” When he moved on to someone else, she leaned in to Adam. “That was nice of him.”
Nice had nothing to do with it. “He was hoping to get you drunk.”
She shook her head.
Adam wasn’t going to argue with her, but his protective side knew what was what.
The music changed, and she swayed. Yeah, that was a better idea. Adam moved his hips too, and that was the end of talking with his classmates. Everyone splintered, but Isla stayed close.
They danced through a couple of songs. At the start of the second one, she rolled her loose sleeves up to her elbows, and by the end of the third, she was playing with the buttons running down the middle of her blouse.
Her skin was slick with sweat. He wanted to lick it off.
Where did that come from?
She threw her hands in the air and laughed, a wild sound of abandon that hit him squarely in the chest.
There. That sound. That was where that feeling came from.
She caught his gaze, then leaned in close enough to talk beneath the music. Her body arched against his as her lips reached for his ear. “Thanks for inviting me to tag along.”
He brushed a damp strand of hair off her cheek. “You look like you’re having fun.”
“I am.” She grinned and wiggled her hips. “I needed this.”
“Me too.” He caught her with his arm, twisting her in the direction of the bar. “Want a drink now?”
“Sure.” She undid a button. “My treat.”
His attention was locked on her fingers now, on her neatly trimmed nails and the dark shadow of a bra or a tank top beneath her blouse.
“Adam.”
“Yeah.” He jerked his head up.
She gave him the same dazzling smile she’d beamed at him a week before, and her lips glistened in the pulsing lights of the dance floor.
