The Returning Hero

by Soraya Lane

  “I think you’ve already helped me,” she told him, her voice laced with a softness that made him wish he wasn’t thinking what he was thinking. That he was just a friend wanting to help another friend with no hidden agenda.

  “What do you say I teach you how to cook Mama’s tomato pasta sauce?”

  She loosened her hold on him until her arm fell away, and he made himself let go of her, too.

  “Was your mom Italian?”

  He grinned, glanced at her before taking the tomatoes from the packet. “Sure was. And she’d kill me for buying nonorganic produce.”

  “Ah, well that explains the dark good looks, huh?”

  Jamie was laughing and he raised an eyebrow back at her, which only made her laugh more.

  “You would have liked her,” he said. “And I know she’d have been impressed that I at least remembered one of her dishes.”

  “I have no doubt that I’d have loved the woman who raised you,” she said. “Even if you did lose her young, she sure did a good job.”

  He looked away when Jamie leaned down to pull out the chopping board, not needing to see the way her shorts showed way too much skin when she bent forward.

  “What else do you need?”

  Brett reached past her for a knife from the wooden block on the counter, pleased that they were finished with their awkward conversation. He didn’t mind opening up to Jamie, but going back into the past was never easy. Not for him. “You can either chop tomatoes or onions?”

  “I’ll do the onions,” she said.

  Brett went to question her, to be the gentleman and offer to do the crap job, until she reached for her sunglasses and put them on.

  “Ah, smart girl.”

  She laughed. “Years of experience chopping these suckers. I always keep an old pair handy.”

  “You know this isn’t going to be a quick meal, right?” he said, chopping the tomatoes into even pieces. “It needs to cook for an hour, maybe longer.”

  “Did you buy wine?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Jamie dropped her knife and pulled her sunglasses off. “Red?”

  He nodded. “Paper bag on the floor.”

  She crossed the room, pulled out two big wineglasses and pulled the cork from the bottle, before pouring a little into each glass. “We may as well have fun, right? I don’t mind waiting if we have something to do to pass the time.”

  Brett took the glass from her, wishing he didn’t have to look at her, that her eyes hadn’t locked on his.

  “To new beginnings,” she announced, holding her glass up to touch his.

  “Cheers to that,” he said, wishing he’d been man enough to tell her how important the past was.

  Brett took a sip as she did the same, swallowing the wine slowly before putting down his glass.

  “So what do we do once we’re done with chopping?”

  They were standing side by side, Jamie with her glasses back on.

  “If I was being a purist then I should have skinned the tomatoes first, but it’ll still be great like this and otherwise we’ll run out of time,” he told her, pleased to take his mind off her by talking food. “We need to saute the onions first with some fresh garlic, then add the tomatoes, some chopped red capsicum and a few handfuls of fresh basil.”

  “Sounds heavenly.”

  “Wait until you taste it with freshly shaved parmesan sprinkled on top with a grind of black pepper.”

  Jamie’s tongue flicked out to moisten her lips and he wished it hadn’t. She was clearly thinking about the food, but it made his mind skip off in an entirely different direction.

  “Sounds delicious.”

  “I also cheated with the pasta,” Brett told her. “I should be making it myself, but I found a homemade spaghetti at the store.”

  “I can’t believe you’re teaching me a recipe.”

  He put down his knife and reached for the wine again. “You say that like I’m some uncouth caveman.”

  Jamie chuckled as she finished the onions and washed her hands. “I guess I just never took a special forces soldier for a cook. I mean, when have you even had time to learn culinary skills?”

  “You did hear me say that I can only cook one dish from scratch, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, but it’s a damn good one from the sound of it,” she said, pulling out a stockpot and turning on the gas. “Want me to start on browning the onions? I can be your sous chef if you like?”

  He nodded and reached for the cloves of garlic he had sitting on the counter, then started peeling and slicing them. There was nothing he didn’t like about cooking with Jamie, about being with her, about having her by his side.

  Maybe it would have felt the same with any woman, because it wasn’t like he’d ever cooked side by side with anyone else before, but deep down he knew he was kidding himself.

  The way he felt for Jamie wasn’t normal, which made it all the harder for him to fight. When he’d been out shopping, he’d wondered if he should just call her and say he’d gone back to his motel, that he’d see her again in a couple of days, but that thought had left his mind as fast as it had entered. Because Jamie was addictive, and right now, he was the addict.

  * * *

  “If we don’t eat it soon my stomach is going to start roaring.”

  Jamie leaned back in her seat and gave Brett what she hoped was her most pathetic face. It seemed to work, because he laughed and walked himself and his glass of wine across the room and to the bubbling pot. The aroma of the sauce cooking had filled the room, and her stomach was starting to rumble.

  “Mama will be shaking her fist up there in the clouds,” he joked, turning around with the wooden spoon in his hand. “She’d be telling me that it needs two hours to reduce properly.”

  Jamie groaned. “I don’t care.” She took a final sip of wine and joined him in the kitchen. “Is this for me to taste?”

  He nodded and held it out, his other hand poised beneath it to catch any drips.

  “Tell me what you think,” he said.

  Jamie leaned closer and opened her mouth, letting him tip the spoon. The taste explosion made her shut her eyes for a second, instantly fuelling her angry appetite.

  “Oh, my God,” she managed to say after swallowing, her words all sounding like they’d merged into one. “That’s incredible.”

  Brett dipped the spoon back into the pot and tasted a mouthful himself. “Not bad, if I do say so myself.”

  “I can’t believe I’ve known you for so long and never known you could cook like that.”

  She reached for the spoon but he didn’t let it go, shaking his head. “Just one more taste, then you have to wait until the pasta is cooked.”

  Jamie made a face but dropped her hand, waiting for Brett to offer her another mouthful. He was grinning when he extended it in her direction, before pulling back and leaving her openmouthed and waiting.

  “Brett!”

  He just laughed and gave it to her, but she moved at the same time, meaning a few drops dripped onto her chin. Brett pulled the spoon back and reached for her face, wiping gently at her chin, his fingers sweeping across her skin to catch the sauce. He licked the sauce from his finger, and she couldn’t take her eyes from him, watching his face, his mouth, his tongue.

  They were standing closer than they should have been, and now they were staring way longer than they should have been, neither blinking, just watching.

  Brett moved his body slightly but Jamie stayed motionless, eyes still never leaving his. She couldn’t think of anything else except for Brett; suddenly he seemed to fill the room with his presence. It was like he was towering over her, his body blocking out everything, his eyes stopping her from seeing anything else, his masculinity calling out to her, making her want to close the distance between them and end up wrapped in his big arms.

  “Ah, I should put that pasta on, right?” he asked.

  Jamie cleared her throat, took a step backward to put some distance betw
een them, to force a space between them that would stop the magnetic pull she was feeling toward him. Toward a man she couldn’t feel like that about, not yet. Not now. She’d lost two soldiers in her life already—there was no way she was going to let a third one break her heart.

  “I’ll, ah, go set up the table outside,” she told him, nodding her head like she was trying to convince herself. “We may as well eat alfresco.”

  Brett turned away and pulled out a big pot, filling it with water and setting it to boil. “This won’t take long. I’ll bring it all out when it’s ready.”

  Jamie swallowed a lump of something—maybe it was just pure emotion but it felt like pure pain to her—and pulled out place mats and cutlery. She could come back for the wine, but right now she needed some space. A moment to breathe. A moment to think about what she was so close to doing.

  Because if she did it, if she gave in to her feelings, then there was no going back. And she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life regretting ruining the one friendship that meant the world to her, and had meant even more to her husband.

  Jamie walked outside and set the table, before wandering around to the side of the house and leaning against it, out of view of the kitchen. She needed to feel the air on her face, shut her eyes and just think.

  About Sam. About the fact that she was still wearing her wedding ring, that she still loved the man she’d married five years ago, that she didn’t want to be unfaithful to him even though he was gone.

  And the fact that her feelings for Brett were starting to consume her.

  Because friends or not, widow or not, she wanted to know what it felt like to kiss Brett again. To be held in his arms. To have his big body pressed against hers, protecting her, loving her.

  “You okay?”

  Jamie’s eyes flew open and she smoothed her hands down over her shorts.

  “Yeah, fine. I just needed a minute.”

  She turned to find him standing by the table, not coming into her space, but concern was written all over his face. He’d brought the wine and their glasses out, along with some napkins.

  “Jamie, are we okay?”

  She took a deep breath. “Yeah, we’re okay.” Jamie paused. “We are, right?”

  Brett nodded, smiling, but his eyes told a story of concern. Of not knowing what to say, of what to think about what was happening.

  Because they weren’t okay and yet they were, all at the same time.

  “How’s that pasta looking?” she asked.

  “Your stomach still growling?”

  She reached for the wine bottle and poured a little more into each of their glasses. “It just so happens that I’m ravenous. I can’t wait.”

  Brett gave her one last, long look before turning around and heading back inside. “Give me two minutes. Then you can eat until you can’t fit another mouthful in.”

  Comfort food was exactly what she needed, and if the taste of sauce she’d had inside was anything to go by, it might even take her mind off how she was feeling. At least for a few minutes.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  JAMIE LEANED BACK, glass of wine in hand, staring up at the stars. It was only nine o’clock, but the sun had gone down long ago and the only light around them was the artificial kind. She’d lit the large candle in the center of the table, and the small flame was making her smile with its constant flicker against the glass, but it wasn’t doing enough to distract her entirely from Brett.

  Their dinner had been amazing, and things seemed to have simmered down between them. There had been no awkward silences, no difficult conversations, just a pleasant night eating alfresco in good company. She was full and content from the huge bowl of pasta she had, the tomato taste still lingering even now. She’d never tasted homemade tomato sauce like that, and now she had, she knew she’d never be satisfied with the bought kind again.

  “You know, when you’re away like we were, the stars are the only constant. The one thing you can look up at, and know that someone else in another country will be staring up at that same sky.”

  She turned her head slightly so she could see Brett’s profile. The light was playing off his features, making him look even more handsome than usual. His dark hair looked black, shadows across part of his face making his features seem even stronger, more masculine. Jamie had always thought him handsome, but sitting out here with him tonight, watching the kind and thoughtful expressions on his face, she knew she’d never realized quite how gorgeous he really was. They’d spent so much time together over the years, but never alone like this without the other guys around.

  “Did you wonder sometimes why you were there? Wish you weren’t?” Jamie asked him. “I mean, it must have been hard dealing with being away so often, doing what you were doing.”

  He chuckled. “There were plenty of times I wished I wasn’t there, but that was usually because of boredom, or missing things from home.” He paused, took a long sip of his drink, clearly deep in thought. “I never lost sight of why we were there, though. And without us? So many soldiers would have been losing their lives. There would be convoys blown up everywhere without our dogs detecting IEDs. Men coming home in body bags. The young guys standing on those bloody things is enough to make you physically sick. Just kids, in their twenties, and having to have prosthetic limbs fitted just to be able to walk again.” He sighed. “And besides, the army was like my family. They were all I had.”

  “I can’t even imagine what you went through. How you could put your life and your dogs in danger…” She froze, catching her lip between her teeth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” Jamie wished she could have crawled into a hole and died. She knew why they did it, she just couldn’t imagine dealing with it, living it. And she hadn’t meant to bring up his dog dying again.

  Brett smiled, but she knew the reminder of his dog must have hurt.

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to worry about offending me,” he said. “We all know the risks when we go in, but nothing prepares you. Especially for the hatred, of how desperate they are to blow each and every one of us into pieces. It’s kind of hard to understand until you’re there, and once you are, you just have to stay focused on the job.”

  “I heard about that dog they found. The one that survived despite everything she went through.” Jamie sighed. “I should be embarrassed by how much I cried when I read it.”

  He laughed, his smile wide. “Yeah, she was injured, survived one of the harshest winters and summers on record, and managed to be spotted by troops more than a year later. Sarbi is the poster dog for never losing hope. And better still, she’s an Australian citizen.”

  They sat in silence for a bit, and Jamie hoped she hadn’t ruined the night by bringing up war and death. She’d been trying to avoid mentioning Sam, but somehow the conversation had reverted to soldier talk, which seemed to lead straight back to her husband.

  “Do you think I’m going to make it? As a dog owner, I mean?”

  Brett had been leaning back, his chair on two legs, but when she spoke he pushed in closer to the table and leaned toward her instead.

  “Sweetheart, Bear is in love with you and you’re desperate to look after him properly. If there was ever a partnership destined to work, it’s this one. And besides, you were already doing well, it was just that he was a bit confused by your signals.”

  The smile that spread across her face was genuine, because if Brett thought she could make it, then maybe her chances weren’t so bad after all. Especially with his help to make her understand her new canine—she wouldn’t have ever given up on Bear, but they sure could have struggled for a while trying to figure one another out.

  “Talking of partnerships,” she said, digging her fingers into her palm to force herself to continue. “Are you sure I’m not keeping you from seeing anyone? I mean, I don’t want you to feel that you have to be here babysitting me.”

  He stared at her, face expressionless. For a moment she wondered if she’d offended him, wished she hadn’t sai
d anything, until he shrugged and grinned at her.

  “I’m not seeing anyone, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said. “And for the record, I have no plans to babysit you.”

  Jamie fought the blush that was heating her neck and cheeks, refusing to give in to it. “I didn’t mean to be nosy, it’s just you’ve been spending so much time with me, and I didn’t want you to feel so sorry for me that you were missing out on seeing someone else. Someone…” Special was what she’d been thinking of saying. He might have said he wasn’t seeing anyone, but it didn’t mean he wanted to spend all his free time with her.

  Now his expression was serious, completely different than before. “I’m not here because I feel sorry for you. Don’t ever think that for a second.”

  She stared back at him, lost in his dark gaze, his eyes stormy and almost black in the half-light. She’d thought he looked beyond handsome before, but all riled up he looked even more irresistible.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I love having you here, but I feel guilty about keeping you from what you want to be doing,” she said. “I know I need to stand on my own two feet, learn how to be alone.” Just because she knew it, didn’t make it any easier.

  “Jamie, I only came back to Sydney for you.”

  She swallowed, not quite sure what to say. He wouldn’t have come back to his home city if it hadn’t been for her? Maybe she’d heard him wrong.

  “I’m the one who should be feeling guilty, for taking so long to get back here. For not being here for you when you needed me,” he said. “I’ve been beating myself up about deserting you for months, so believe me when I say that this is exactly the place I want to be. Sam was family to me, and that makes you family. I should have been here sooner.”

  “Oh, Brett, you were injured and you’d lost your best friend and your dog. You have nothing to apologize for,” she told him. “I just appreciate seeing you again, having you here, but I wouldn’t have judged you if you’d decided not to come home at all.”

  He cleared his throat, leaned across the table toward her and then seemed to change his mind, clasping his hands and staring back up at the sky.