“Is that what he wants?” she asked.
“It’s what we both wanted. Only I couldn’t cut it.”
She took his hand again, linked their fingers together.
“Obviously I don’t know the details of what you saw or did during your time in the Marine Corps, but I think maybe you need to cut yourself a break,” she told him. “Everyone’s experiences in combat are different, and even those who share the same experiences may process them differently. Anyone can end up with PTSD and it’s estimated that between ten and twenty percent of veterans who served in the Middle East do.”
“Someone’s been doing some research,” he noted.
“I spent six years in college,” she said. “Old habits are hard to break, but I apologize if I overstepped.”
He shook his head. “You didn’t.”
“So you said that Benjamin’s nine, but you’d previously mentioned a three-year-old niece,” she said, attempting to maneuver the conversation to a less difficult topic.
“Christina,” he said. “And between Ben and Christina is Nate. He’s six. Thankfully, he and his little sister were both tucked into bed by the time the kids next door brought out the firecrackers.”
“You miss them a lot,” she said. “I can hear it in your voice when you talk about them.”
“Yeah, I guess I do,” he said. “I got to spend a fair bit of time with them over the past couple of years. Kids give you a whole different perspective on life. Maybe it’s naïve or idealistic, but they make me believe there’s some hope for the future of this screwed-up world.”
She nodded, understanding. “I’ve got two nieces and three nephews, and my sister Kate is expecting another child early in the new year. But I wasn’t supposed to say anything about that just yet,” she suddenly remembered. “Because they aren’t ready for the news to be public knowledge.”
“I don’t know how I’ll resist telling all my friends in town,” he remarked dryly.
She smiled then. “You must be feeling better—your smart-ass attitude is back.”
“I am feeling better,” he said. “Thanks.”
But she could see in his eyes the toll that the whole evening had taken on him, so she pushed away from the table and carried their plates to the sink.
“Stop,” he said, when she started to run the water.
“What?”
He took the bottle of soap from her hands. “You’re not washing the dishes.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I do,” he said. “You didn’t get the dinner out that you were promised—I am absolutely not letting you tidy up the kitchen.”
“I used half those dishes,” she pointed out.
He picked up the tea towel and dried her hands.
She didn’t bother to protest. Instead, she asked, “Do you have any plans for next Thursday night?”
“No.”
“I’ll bring the pizza then.”
“I thought the deal was only valid if tonight went well.”
“You didn’t have a good time tonight?”
“I had a panic attack in the restaurant.”
“Just a little one,” she said. “And then we came back here and enjoyed our excellent steaks and loaded baked potatoes.”
“I’d say the steaks were more overcooked than excellent.”
“Maybe a little, because I reheated them in the microwave,” she acknowledged. “But do you know why I said yes when you invited me to go out with you tonight?
“I’ll give you a hint,” she said, before he had a chance to respond. “It had nothing to do with wine or candlelight.”
“Am I supposed to guess now?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“I said yes because I wanted to be with you.”
“You really need to set the bar higher,” he told her.
“Thursday night,” she said again. “I’ll bring the pizza.”
“Aren’t you going to ask what toppings I like?”
“Sausage and peppers,” she said, proving that she’d been paying attention when he told her about his second visit to Jo’s. Then she brushed her mouth against his. “I’ll see you around six.”
Chapter Eleven
“Do you really think we’re going to eat two pizzas?” Jake asked, when he greeted Sky at the door the following Thursday night.
“Considering that I haven’t eaten all day, yes,” she told him, reaching down with her free hand to scratch behind Molly’s ears. The greeting had the dog’s whole back end wagging.
“But if we don’t, you can put the leftovers in the freezer,” she said, as she toed off her shoes. “Because even reheated, Jo’s pizza is better than anything from the frozen foods section in the grocery store.”
“Why haven’t you eaten all day?” he asked, apparently stuck on that part of her response.
“I was busy.”
“Too busy to grab a bite?” His tone was dubious.
“Yeah,” she said. “I had a meeting with the guidance department at the high school early this morning about an honor roll student who’s suddenly skipping classes and failing tests, then I went to court to provide moral support for a client who was testifying in a custody hearing that will decide whether or not her abusive soon-to-be ex-husband gets unsupervised visitation with their kids. When court broke for lunch, I went back to the high school to talk to the student who was the subject of the morning meeting, scheduled a follow-up with him for tomorrow, then returned to the courthouse for the afternoon session. After the hearing was finally adjourned for the day, I called Jo’s to order the pizza, then I picked it up and brought it here.”
“And you told me you didn’t have a full-time job,” he remarked.
“If I did, I’d probably work fewer hours,” she acknowledged. Then her gaze snagged on the bottle on the counter. “Is that wine?”
“Yeah. I don’t have a clue about grapes or vintages, so I called the restaurant we didn’t eat at last week to ask about the reds on their wine list and this one sounded familiar.”
“It’s one of my favorites,” she said, absurdly touched by his effort. “And I would really enjoy a glass of it right now.”
“I’ll open it,” he promised, retrieving a corkscrew from the drawer of utensils. “But I think you should have a slice of pizza first.”
“I’m not going to get drunk from one glass of wine on an empty stomach,” she promised, setting the boxes on the table so that she could wash her hands.
“Let’s not test that theory,” he advised.
“All right.” After drying her hands on the towel that hung on the handle of the oven, she reached into the cupboard to retrieve plates for their meal.
“I’ve got plates in the living room,” he said, as he pulled the cork out of the bottle. “I thought we’d eat in there tonight.”
“Okay,” she agreed, guessing that there was a game that he wanted to watch on the big screen.
She picked up the pizza boxes again and followed him into the living room, stopping short when she saw that he’d draped a cloth over the coffee table and set it with what she guessed had been his aunt’s good china, real silver and linen napkins.
She placed the pizza boxes in the center of the table. “What is all this?”
“A feeble attempt to make up for the fact that you didn’t get your fancy candlelight dinner the other night. And damn—” he finished pouring the wine into her glass, then reached into his pocket for a book of matches “—I forgot to light the candles.”
She sipped her pinot noir as he struck a match and held the flame to the wick of the first candle, then the second.
“This is really sweet,” she said. “But really not necessary.”
He opened the lid of the pizza box and, using an intricately embossed cake server, lifted a slice of pizza out and set
it on her plate.
“Does eating off of good china mean we need to use a knife and fork?” she asked, wondering about the purpose of the cutlery.
“Of course not,” he assured her with a shake of his head. “I only put the silverware out because the table setting looked unfinished without it.”
“Thank goodness,” she said, picking up her slice and biting into it. The flavors of gooey cheese, tangy sauce and spicy sausage exploded on her tongue. “Mmm...sooo good.”
“And suddenly, I’m feeling unnecessary,” Jake remarked dryly.
“Why?” she asked, already bringing the pizza to her mouth again for another bite.
“Because you’re making the same sounds over that pizza as you make in the bedroom.”
“I am not,” she denied.
“Trust me,” he said. “I’m intimately familiar with your sighs and moans.”
“Well, I’ve had a very satisfying relationship with Jo’s pizza for a lot of years,” she told him. “And it looks like Molly wants to get acquainted with it, too.”
“No,” Jake said to the dog, who was inching ever closer to the coffee table, her nose twitching.
“Do you ever let her have treats from the table?”
“No,” he said again, responding to Sky’s question this time. “Not only because people food isn’t good for dogs but because it gives her gas like you wouldn’t believe.”
“And how do you know that if you don’t give her treats?”
“I learned that lesson the hard way,” he admitted. “I used to let her have the occasional piece of cheese or last bite of a burger. And then I realized that those treats had a very specific and undesirable effect.”
“Maybe Ashley’s been sneaking treats to Rey,” she mused. “That little dog makes a really big stink sometimes.”
She looked at Molly, who had wriggled close enough that her nose was pressed against Sky’s leg.
“Sorry,” she said. “But Jake says you’re not allowed to have this.”
Molly looked at her pleadingly.
“It’s not me, it’s him,” she said, pointing.
The dog actually sighed, making Sky smile.
“How did you two end up together?” she asked Jake now.
“My sister-in-law got her for me from a friend who trains service dogs.”
“She’s a service dog?”
He chuckled at that. “No. She totally flunked the test to qualify for training.”
“And yet, just having a pet can be therapeutic,” Sky noted. “Dogs, in particular, can be very intuitive, even without special training.”
“She’s certainly been good company,” Jake said. “And she’s always there when I wake up from a nightmare. Sometimes she even manages to wake me, before things get really bad.” Then, before she could comment or ask about the nightmares, he continued, “Plus taking her out for exercise ensures that I get exercise, too.”
Sky took her cue from him and let the subject of his nightmares drop—for now. “I’m not disciplined enough to exercise every day,” she confided.
“It sounds like you spend a lot of time running from job to job every day,” he noted.
“That’s not the same thing. And between the running today, I spent a lot of hours just sitting on my butt at the courthouse.”
“Is that why you’re wearing those fancy clothes? Because you were in court today?”
She glanced at her attire, amused by his description. “A jacket and pants are fancy clothes?”
“Comparatively,” he said. “Because I’m accustomed to seeing you in jeans and a T-shirt behind the bar at Diggers’. Although the outfit you had on last Thursday was nice, too. And then there was that very memorable day that you were stranded on the roadside wearing a snug little sweater, short skirt and chunky-heeled boots.”
“You remember what I was wearing?”
“Oh yeah,” he said, nodding. “It was the day I discovered that you’ve got really spectacular legs.”
“Thank you?” she said dubiously.
“Of course, my recollection of what you were wearing under that sweater and skirt is even more vivid.” He grinned. “You’ve got spectacular underwear, too.”
“And you haven’t even seen what I’ve got on today,” she teased.
“Are you going to let me take those fancy clothes off of you so that I can?”
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” she told him.
“I won’t let you leave here disappointed tonight,” he promised.
And proceeded to prove that he was a man of his word.
* * *
Jake was hovering in that state of postcoital bliss halfway between asleep and awake when Sky’s voice cut through the silence.
“I should be heading home,” she said. “It’s late.”
“Will you be grounded if you miss curfew?”
“I don’t have a curfew, but I have a little sister who does and I’m trying to set a good example.”
“She does look up to you,” he noted.
“How would you know?”
“She talks about you all the time. Or maybe she just talks all the time. Honestly, I sometimes want to tell her to pause and take a breath.”
Sky chuckled softly at that, then her expression grew serious. “Do you mind her hanging out here? Does she get in your way?”
“Nah, she’s mostly harmless. And Molly loves when she’s here, because Ashley will throw the ball forever.”
“Rey still prefers to play keep-away,” Sky said, sliding to the edge of the mattress to reach for her discarded clothes. “She fetches the ball, but then refuses to let go of it.”
“Yeah, we’ve been working on that a little.” He shifted closer to peer at a blue mark on Sky’s skin. “What’s this?”
She had to twist her head to see the back of her arm. “Oh. I guess I must have hit the ground harder than I thought.”
“Hit the ground?”
She nodded. “When I dove to catch Connor Neal’s line drive Tuesday night.”
“You got this bruise playing baseball?”
“Making the final out,” she clarified. “Which ensured that we won the game.”
“Competitive much?” he asked, sounding amused.
“Baseball is more of a passion than a pastime in this town.”
“Still, you should be more careful.”
“I should be more careful?” she challenged, skimming her fingers gently down his side, over a ridge of puckered skin.
“Yeah, well, that isn’t from anything I did on purpose.”
“What’s it from?”
It was the first time she’d asked. The first time she’d made any reference to his scars, though he knew there was no way she could have missed them when they were naked together.
“I crashed into a market cart...after being thrown through the air when our Humvee was hit by an RPG.”
“Afghanistan?” she guessed.
“I did a tour in Afghanistan,” he told her. “But that was the last one, in Iraq.”
“Is it okay that I asked?” she wondered, sounding worried.
“Yeah. Truthfully, I’m surprised it took you this long.”
“I figured if you wanted me to know, you’d tell me. But then...well, you know the thing about the cat and curiosity.”
“And now you know,” he said.
Which wasn’t really true, and he braced himself for the follow-up questions he felt certain would come after his admission.
But Sky surprised him again, only saying, “What I don’t know is why you’re making a fuss over a little bruise.”
“Because I don’t like to think about you being hurt.”
“It doesn’t hurt. Not really. And the bruise will be gone in a few days,” she assured him.
&nbs
p; “You really dove for a line drive?” he asked, not just to keep the topic focused on her injury rather than his own, but because he really wanted to know.
“I really did,” she confirmed.
“I think I’d enjoy watching you play softball,” he said.
“Games are at Prospect Park every Tuesday night at seven and the occasional Saturday afternoon at two.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“But I should probably warn you, there isn’t a lot in the way of entertainment in this town—”
“Shocking,” he said.
“—so we draw pretty big crowds,” she continued, pointedly ignoring his interjection.
“What’s a pretty big crowd?”
“There are usually thirty to forty spectators at most of our games.”
“I’m surprised you don’t have law enforcement at the park for crowd control.”
“Connor Neal is the deputy sheriff.”
“The hitter of the line drive you snagged?”
She nodded.
“You’re lucky you didn’t get taken in for grand larceny.”
* * *
“I didn’t get a chance to ask you last week about your big date,” Natalya said, when Jake showed up at the community center the following Wednesday night.
“I was glad you didn’t,” he confided. “So that I didn’t have to tell you that it was a disaster.”
She winced sympathetically. “That bad?”
He nodded and, because it was Nat and he knew she’d understand, briefly summarized what had happened at the restaurant.
“It sounds like Sky handled the situation,” she remarked when he’d finished the story.
A lot better than he would have anticipated.
Of course, if he’d anticipated any of it, he would never have asked her to go out with him.
“She did,” he agreed. “But she shouldn’t have had to.”
“Have you seen her since then?”
“Yeah. We had pizza at my place last week.”
“And how did that go?” she asked.
“That was good.” But it was thinking about what had come after the pizza that made him smile. “Really good.”
The Marine's Road Home Page 13
