Soldier Mine (Sons of War #2)(53)

He leans away, breathing hard. “Can’t get enough of you.”

“I know.” My hand slides down his hard abs to the bulge of his erection. “Tonight,” I promise with a grin.

“Damn right.” He smiles back. “Go. Before I drive us home and spend another day making love to you.”

My god … I want that so much. Heart soaring, stomach fluttering, and blood racing too fast for me to feel the cold, I hop out of the truck and float to the diner, turning to wave when I reach the door.

He waves back.

I walk in, a grinning happy fool.

Eileen eyes me from her place behind the counter. The normal crowd is present, about four regulars. I don’t feel quite capable of my normal concentration anyway and am grateful the Christmas rush is over. My hands tremble when I pull off my coat and swap snow boots for flats in the staff section.

Todd’s schedule is in my apron, along with the business card Petr gave me on our first meeting. I check Todd’s calendar to see it empty for this evening. Automatically, I calculate what time he should be home after leaving school.

And then stop to debate. Simon said The Monster would be arrested today. I guess I should assume that means by the usual close of business hours, around five or six. Today is the last instance I’ll have to time Todd getting home.

It doesn’t seem real.

“Have a good Christmas?” Eileen asks when I emerge.

“Best ever.”

“Looks like it.”

I make a face at her. She smiles and returns to the crossword puzzle she’s doing in the slow morning. Checking on the regulars, I move behind the counter and pull a sheet off the ticket pad.

My thoughts go briefly to my mother, and I resolve to call her tonight, after work. Simon’s warning about not jumping the gun is at the back of my mind. I purposely didn’t call her this past weekend for that reason. I ache to talk to her in depth for the first time in four years, to tell her where I am, how well Todd is doing, and about Petr.

I quell the urge and focus on the paper.

What I want to do with my life, I write. I sit, staring at the otherwise blank paper, cross out the starter sentence, and decide to do some brainstorming. The list eventually is named My Ideal Life.

Todd and Petr are the first two people I place on it, followed by a few of the skills I’ve picked up over the years. Waitressing is present, along with graphic design. Anton’s projects reminded me of why I got into design in the first place, because I love the creativity the field allows. I have an artist’s eye but not the ability to draw well.

I make two lists for what I want in my ideal life, tear up one and start a third. The only two constants are Todd and Petr. I can’t feel upset, not after the incredible weekend that’s left me sated, sore and exhilarated about the most important part of my life.

Sitting back around midmorning, I realize I don’t really need to know today, either. It’s not like I’m leaving town tomorrow and have to choose a new life. I have time to figure it out.

Except … I’m anxious to catch up. I’ve got over four years to make up for missing time.

Preoccupied, I spend the better part of the day in pensive quiet. The business at the diner is slow enough that my journeys into my thoughts aren’t a problem. I go through another five pieces of paper before resigning myself to the idea I’m not ready to figure it out yet.

Todd texts around three when he’s off school and headed home. I glance at my phone to start the mental calculation about when he’ll be home. With snow, it’ll take a little longer for him to walk, so I’m guessing by four. I’m not too worried. By six, I’ll feel relatively certain Simon’s prediction of The Monster being in jail by the end of the day will be true. I’ll check in with the attorney when I get home tonight then call my mom and let her know, if she doesn’t already.

My evening plans are already set with Petr. The images in my head, coupled with the memories of his touch, make me sigh aloud.

It’s dark by four. I text Todd to ask if he’s home yet, and his response is a single word: almost. My excitement is growing about the end of the day, and I find it harder than usual to wait on people when I’m jittery, anticipating seeing Petr again.

“Hey, Claudia, you have a call,” the second shift waitress calls from the phone located beneath the counter, near the entrance to the kitchen.

“Be right there!” I finish taking the order for the table where I am and then move away, checking the time. It’s about four thirty. Assuming it’s Petr, since I didn’t think to give him my number, I accept the phone from her. “Hey, this is Claudia!” I say cheerfully.

“Hey, Claud.”

I freeze. Every muscle in my body tenses, and for a moment, I can’t breathe.

“Nice place. Didn’t think you like the snow,” Jake says.

His voice slides through me, pries open the lid of the box where my fear has gone, and places my chest in a vise.

“A little birdy tipped me off about the arrest. Fortunately, I was able to leave town in time.”

“How did you find me?” I whisper hoarsely, turning my back to the dining area.

“Same little birdy. Todd called home on Christmas.” He chuckles. “Always calls his grandma like a good boy. You know her phone’s been tapped for a while.”

Shit. I rack my mind and realize I told Todd the news about The Monster being put away – but didn’t warn him against calling home until it was done. Dread and guilt sink into me, and I realize I screwed up one last time.