Soldier Mine (Sons of War #2)(21)

I don’t realize I’m staring at her until she notices me and lifts an eyebrow. Blinking out of my stupor, I close the distance between us and offer my hand. She slides her cool, soft palm into mine, and we shake.

“Glad you could make it,” I say, gazing down at her. She smells like flower lotion today instead of French fries.

“You, too,” she responds. Pink creeps into her cheeks. “I mean … whatever. It’s your party. I guess you have to be here.” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear nervously. She notices we’re still holding hands before I do and tugs loose.

“Someone’s gotta keep the pies coming,” I reply with a smile. “Can I show you around?”

“Sure.” She crosses her arms and gazes around as if uncomfortable with the crowd.

I take her to see her brother first and then around the buffet tables. She seems most interested in the cookies and grabs two as we pass. We walk through the recreational and activity areas, pause to observe a basketball game among kids seven and under, and then take up a seat in the bingo hall, the quietest part of the community center.

“This is amazing,” she says and sinks into the seat beside me. Her warmth and scent wash over me, and I shiver, unusually attracted to the sweet-stubborn combination she is. “And you do this every year?”

“Yeah. Wait ‘til you see what we do for Christmas,” I say with a quick smile.

Some of her excitement fades, and she looks away. “I guess we’ll see,” she murmurs. “Do you give everyone a personal tour?”

“Nah.”

She appears to be waiting for a deeper explanation. I place a bingo card in front of her instead.

“It’s been a while since I took time off work,” she states. “Feels kind of surreal.”

“You a workaholic?”

“Gotta pay the bills,” she answers. “I swear Todd eats half a grocery store worth of food every week.”

I chuckle. “He’s growing.”

“He’s been driving me batty about the karate. You sure we’re not imposing?”

“I have to be there anyway. I help out with the kids.”

“Really? Your leg lets you?” She freezes and her gaze flies up to mine. “I really shouldn’t have … omigod, Petr, I’m so sorry.”

“I’d rather you ask than pretend it doesn’t exist,” I assure her.

“It doesn’t bother you to talk about it?”

“Nah. Does it bother you to know about it?” I ask before I can stop myself. Shit. It’s too early to ask her opinion on my leg. Without knowing much about Claudia aside from the fact she seems genuine, I’m risking being hurt by her response.

“No. I can think of many worse qualities to have than a bionic leg,” she replies earnestly. “I just don’t really know … I mean, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’ve had a seven year old insist I strip in the middle of the mall so they can show their parents. All in a day’s work.”

“Oh, god!” She gasps and covers her mouth with her hand as she giggles. “Are you serious?”

“Very.” I smile. “I consider it art attached to my body. I don’t mind showing people any more than an artist does. In fact, I tend to be a little too open and scare folks.”

She’s laughing, a charming mix of embarrassment and amusement. Her laugh is as cute as she is. I study her features, probably a bit too long, and resist the urge to tuck the piece of hair floating around her face behind her ear the way she does.

“It does make it harder to get a date,” I admit in a half-joke. “Showing off your bionic leg isn’t the best way to pick someone up.”

“If they flinch at it, you don’t want them in your life anyway,” she says pragmatically. “Everyone has baggage. If someone cares for you, the baggage doesn’t matter. That’s what I tell Todd anyway.”

“You’re tougher than you look,” I observe, sensing once more there’s depth to her well hidden behind a controlled fa?ade. Despite this, I can tell she’s a good person and has an equally golden heart.

She ducks her head, but not before I see the shadow that crosses her features.

I don’t want her to be sad or down or to dwell on whatever is bothering her. I have a feeling she’s in a similar situation as I am; whatever haunts her is ever present. For a few hours, I want her mind elsewhere.

“I forgot to show you the twelve foot turkey,” I say. “It’s made of chocolate.”

She brightens at the mention.

We leave the bingo hall and return to the dining area. The turkey is cordoned off, and we stop in front of the rope.

“I thought you were joking,” she says, trying not to smile. Her eyes go up and down the huge statue.

“When I saw the order form, I thought it was twelve inches. I had no idea it was feet,” I tell her. “It took three days to move it from the bakery in New Jersey to Glory Glade. We had to hire a crane to get it in here, and I have no idea what we’ll do with it when this is over.”

She begins laughing again, this time without her usual reserve. I watch, enjoying the way her face glows. I’m glimpsing another side of her, the carefree spirit whose wit and barbs come out occasionally, much to her chagrin. The impulse to know what happened, why she hides herself and tries to hide Todd from the world, is growing stronger. There’s a sweet, saucy woman beneath her hardened exterior.