Soldier Mine (Sons of War #2)(11)

I don’t flinch but I want to. Anxiety stirs, and I suppress it with effort. “Thanks. I’ll check on him.”

“Oh, and Henry was in early today. Didn’t want you to miss him. Said he had to go to his son’s for the weekend.”

I smile. “He’s a sweetie.” Fixing my hair, I leave the back room for the counter and snag my ticket pad as I go.

Petr is wearing a maroon sweater today, one that brings out the ruddiness of his cheeks. I catch myself looking a little too long. He’s wide of shoulder and chest, muscular, with a friendly, warm air and genuine smile I find somewhat … compelling. Maybe because it’s been so long since I dealt with someone genuine, someone who noticed me the way I did him.

Actually, I don’t think that’s ever happened. Ignoring the strange thoughts, I focus on him.

“What can I get ya?” I ask.

“Pecan pie and coffee.”

“We’re out of both.”

He stares at me.

I laugh.

Where the hell did that come from? Am I flirting with him? What the hell is wrong with me? “Lame attempt at a joke. Or something,” I mumble. “Not sure your girlfriend will approve, though.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Sorry. That wasn’t appropriate.”

Petr is grinning, his eyes sparkling.

I leave quickly, uncertain what to say and thoroughly embarrassed by the unusual slip. I can’t afford to be interested in him. He’s attractive, yes, but I’m in no position to open that door. Five minutes later, I return with his pie and coffee. The old me had a good sense of humor and used to tease people. The paranoid runner I am now is supposed to be all business.

“There’s a karate class tonight at six. Have you made a decision about whether or not Todd can go?” he asks.

I hesitate. My instinctive, immediate answer is negative. I haven’t yet decided if that’s the right one yet. Petr being here, this morning, waiting for me …

“I haven’t decided,” I reply.

“Not a problem. I can come back tomorrow.” He chuckles. “Want me to bring references? Someone to vouch for me?”

My face is warm. He can’t understand why I’m like this, and I have no real way of explaining it. “Just eat your pie,” I tell him in the tone I use with Todd.

Whirling away, I retreat to my counter.

He eats, pays and leaves without speaking to me again, though he does give me a small wave. I ignore it. I can’t let anyone think I’m going soft, can’t relax my guard until my ex is behind bars, which will probably take years given our court system.

I’m expecting Petr to drop it. I’ve been a bit of a bitch and haven’t given him an answer twice now. A normal person would deem this effort too annoying to pursue and take the easier path by moving on. A man this handsome would never speak to me again.

But the next day, Petr returns.

And the next.

And the next.

On the fourth day, I even hide the pecan pie and tell him it’s out for the season.

But he comes back the next day, too. Every day, he asks if Todd can go to karate, and every day, I crisply inform him I haven’t made up my mind.



Petr shows up for ten days in a row. TEN. My brother has no idea this is happening, and I’m almost grateful he’s got a girl to keep his mind off karate for the most part. This game between Petr and me is baffling.

I don’t understand why he won’t just quit. Walk away, drop it, move on, whatever. He barely knows Todd, and he’s got an entire town of people to save. He must have better things to do than to ask me every day about taking my brother to karate class.

“What is wrong with you?” I ask him finally on the tenth day and all but drop his pie on the table before him. I plant both hands on my hips. “Can’t you take a hint?”

“I think ten days qualifies as more than a hint,” Petr says, amused. “Even this ground pounder understands.”

“Then why do you keep asking?”

He shrugs. “Initially I wanted to take him to karate. Now … it’s more a matter of principle. You declared war by being stubborn, so I at least need to show up to the fight.”

What is it about him that always makes me want to smile? “War, huh.” I never thought of it that way, though in hindsight, there is a part of me that’s wanted to drive him away. If he stopped asking, stopped showing up, I could tell Todd it wasn’t a sincere offer and take the easy way out with the karate class issue. “There’s no pie in war.”

I take his pie away. Just to drive home my point, I eat it at the counter while Petr sips his coffee and watches, entertained.

“I’m still charging you,” I call to him across the diner.

“Cheers.” He raises his mug.

I lift my fork in response.

“Since I’m buying, I might consider this a first date,” he adds.

He smiles under my icy glare. I don’t really appreciate the joke.

I expect today to be like every other one, where he pays the check and leaves. Rather than walk out wordlessly after our exchange, he approaches the counter.

“My family throws a town-wide Thanksgiving feast every year at the community center. You and Todd are welcome to come by,” he says.