Energized by Mary Behre

back inside. Tell her to forget what he said about forgetting Fincastle. Why in the hell had he said that anyway? Like he wouldn’t have jumped at the chance to fuck her again.
    No, not fuck.
    Their night had been more intense than that. More personal than a simple itch that needed scratching. Not the flowery crap that poets write about . . . but something that made a corner of his soul crave the chance to experience it all again.
    And that was why he sat in the truck, unmoving. Part of him wanted to leave. The woman was damned unnerving. She affected him in ways he didn’t want to think about. She was a stranger. He shouldn’t feel this bizarre pull to be around her. Hell, he’d even tried to call her for all the good it did him.
    Not to screw her or to touch her or to even see her. Just to talk to her. When had he ever felt that desire before? Never. That cold December night, she managed to reach inside and comfort him on the very night he could have sworn he’d never feel peace again. Then she’d kissed him good-bye and handed him a phone number to nowhere.
    And that too kept his ass in the seat of his beloved truck.
    Christ, he was a fucking Marine. Marines didn’t run from danger, they ran toward it. But he’d bet his left nut that no Marine had ever before gone up against a slip of a woman with a fairylike face and the ability to bring a man to his knees with a simple glance.
    Tomorrow, he wouldn’t run. He didn’t need to. She’d be gone in a few days. But before she left, he’d find out why she’d given him a bogus number.
    *   *   *
    â€œ A RE YOU ALL right?” Karma asked as soon as Niall left.
    â€œSure. I still have a job.” Hannah smiled and tried to pushaway the hurt that had knifed through her at Niall’s request to leave what happened between them in Fincastle. She’d already decided she’d have to show him he needed her around. She’d just kind of hoped that he’d
want
to pick up where they’d left off.
    Karma pursed her lips, giving her a narrow-eyed stare. “Your au—” She cut herself off as Michael pushed through the door from the Master Room, a bin full of dirty dishes in his hands. Turning to him she said, “Michael, just leave the dishes, I’ll get them. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
    Michael’s bangs shifted, as if moved by raised eyebrows before he smiled. “Sure. Clock me out?”
    Karma nodded, taking the bin from him and disappearing around the demi-wall to the sink area.
    Michael removed his apron, tossed it into the laundry basket by the back door, then left. Karma immediately pulled the screened door closed and latched it, then shut and locked the heavy wooden door behind it. Lifting her shoulder in a come-with-me maneuver, she gestured for Hannah to follow her to the sink.
    Despite being tired and seriously ready to call it a night, Hannah obeyed.
    The big metal dishwasher ran noisily. Steam poured from beneath the grate, wafting through the room like a wet, heavy cloud. But everything, aside from the tub of dirty dishes, gleamed in the kitchen.
    â€œWow, the cooks don’t waste time cleaning their stations at night, do they?”
    Karma smirked. “Can you blame them? Virgil wants to get home and spend time with his wife. And Paulie . . . well, he’s an enigma. Doesn’t really say where he’s going at night. But if I had to guess, I’d say he’s curled up at home in bed with a book.”
    â€œNot an extrovert?”
    â€œHardly. Our chefs, and we call them chefs here, are more comfortable sorting tomatoes than talking to guests. That’s why they have us.” Karma set the bin of dishes on the floor next to a white cooler with a blue lid. She lifted off the top, pulled out two bottles of water, and handed one to Hannah.
    â€œThanks.” Hannah twisted off the cap and guzzled half the