Below the Belt(17)

It was good, she mused, to have this easy flow with him. Without mentioning his injury, she’d gotten why the team was so important out of him, and he’d learned why she honestly loved her job. Perhaps later on, if it was still applicable, he’d come to her for help.

But more than that, she just enjoyed talking with him. He was listening. And not the fake listening she knew some men did where they nodded and made soft noises all while mentally calculating how fast they could unbutton the fly to her jeans or whether she would want them to come inside after their date.

Frankly, the entire evening had been better than a lot of dates she’d been on in the recent years.

But it is not a date, she reminded herself sternly.

Cutting into the steak, she sighed in pleasure—then shot him a mischievous grin. “Your salmon looks . . . not as good as my steak.”

He scowled, but she could see the humor in his eyes. “Your arteries disagree.”

“I’ve trained them to appreciate when I feed them red meat.” She took a bite and moaned in pure pleasure, maybe just a little louder than usual to bait him. But when her eyes opened again, he wasn’t laughing or shooting her a playfully angry face. He was watching her mouth intensely, like he was memorizing the shape of her lips.

“What?” She used her napkin to wipe her mouth and chin.

He just shook his head and stabbed at a piece of broccoli . . . a little harder than necessary, in her opinion.

“The broccoli would like you to take it easy,” she joked, trying to regain the teasing lightness they’d had moments before . . . before what? What had she done wrong?

He stared at his plate for a second, then up at her. “Sorry. Tired. I just zoned for a few seconds.”

That she could understand. “I hope you take your day off to rest up. At the rate Coach Ace is going to push you, you’ll need all the reserves you can grab.”

He nodded and went back to eating. But a moment later, when a carrot landed smack in the middle of her split-open baked potato, she grinned.


*

NEVER had Brad had to argue for so long in the parking lot of a restaurant about following a woman back to her house. Not because he wanted inside, but because, as he’d told Marianne repeatedly, he wanted to make sure she got back safely.

And of course, being who she was, she argued. Only one beer and switched to lemonade, lived here almost her whole life, could drive around town blindfolded, yada yada yada.

Jesus H., the woman loved to argue. He’d just kept his mouth shut and indicated she go ahead. She could fight it, but he’d still make sure she got back safe. It wasn’t a date; he wasn’t trying to get in her pants, good as they made her ass look. But his stepfather would kill him dead if he knew he’d gone out with a woman for any reason and not made sure she’d gotten home safely.

He preferred to avoid his stepdad’s wrath whenever possible. That was self-preservation. The Marine Corps liked their officers to carry a decent amount of self-preservation instinct.

The entire drive back to her place, Brad debated whether to actually walk her to the door. Would she think he was a creeper who couldn’t take a hint? Maybe just parking and making sure she got to the door would suffice. She’d just moved back; likely she moved back in with her parents, since the job was short-term. If it was anything like his parents’ house, it would be well-lit and in a typical, nice neighborhood.

He was pleased with the thought that it would be safe enough to just drive past her driveway and do the honk-and-wave before making his exit when she surprised him and pulled into an apartment complex. The complex was decent, with good access to one of the side gates to base that would be less busy during the mornings. Smart.

But it also meant his theory of leaving her in her parents’ well-lit driveway was kaput. He could still just pull the honk-and-wave. She wouldn’t care. In fact, he’d bet Marianne would prefer it if he just drove off and left her to get inside herself. He should just count his lucky stars they’d made it through the entire meal without her harping on his leg or him slipping up and confessing about the pain.

The mere thought of annoying her had him smiling as he parked three spaces away and stepped out of his car.

He knew he was right when he found her standing on the sidewalk, hands on hips, eyes narrowed. The faint parking lot light made her pale shoulders glow.

“I can get into my apartment by myself, thank you.”

The words were polite, but the way she forced them through her teeth told him she wanted to add a not-so-nice Buzz off at the end of that thank-you.

Why that made him grin, he had no clue. “I know you can get into your apartment. Humor me.”

“Remember when you used to avoid me? That was fun.” She rolled her eyes as he merely stood there, waiting, then shook her head and headed for the stairs.

“Nice complex,” he said as they walked up. “Good view.” The fact that her butt was directly in his line of vision didn’t hurt.

“Easy access to base, and decent safety. I didn’t need much more.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t move back in with your folks.”

“I love my parents, but by doing that, I would have been committing myself to the loony bin. This one’s got a six-month rental, which is perfect for me. And I’m surrounded by Marines. Best theft deterrent I know.”