knowing, let alone caring. Eventually I came back to North Carolina, but never to my hometown.”
Her confession slid between his ribs like an arrow and pierced a sympathetic vein. He’d done the same thing – moved to a new town, started a new life. After electing not to re-enlist after the end of his contract and being discharged from the Marine Corps, he hadn’t been interested in returning home.
He wasn’t the same person he’d been when he’d left, and going back would’ve meant constantly being reminded of that, always running into people who didn’t understand.
He’d been stationed at Camp LeJeune before his discharge, and had lingered in North Carolina, taking a job at Riley a couple months later, ready to start something new – something that wasn’t a constant reminder of what he’d lost, or who he’d been before that. He was hours from the small town in Georgia where he’d grown up. Like Sasha, he had no plans to return.
She stood still and quiet now, studying him as she frowned, her sadness etched into her face.
An answering twinge surfaced inside Henry, little pieces of him that were drawn to her grief like iron shavings to a magnet. The internal shift opened up a place he tried to keep sealed shut, exposing feelings he could see mirrored plainly on her face.
He’d been attracted to Sasha from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her – few men wouldn’t have felt the same way – but he’d never felt like her before. Any sameness between them had been limited to their mutual attraction. Outside of that, they were night and day, north and south. Seeing the things he felt in her eyes was something different, something new.
“Henry…” Her eyes were locked with his, and he couldn’t look away. She wasn’t her usual fiery self, but she’d never looked more beautiful. For the first time, he finally felt like he understood her. Part of her, anyway.
“Yeah?”
“Do I smell something burning?”
CHAPTER 12
“Shit!” Henry turned on his heel and hurried toward the stove. Sasha was right about the burning smell.
Wolf leapt up from the floor and followed, his tail wagging eagerly. As Henry pulled a skillet off a burner, Wolf hovered from a short distance like a vulture over a battlefield, waiting for permission to feast on the disaster.
“Dinner’s ruined,” he announced, staring down at the shriveled clusterfuck his culinary efforts had been reduced to. The chicken breasts were charred black, and he had no doubt they were dry as the Sahara inside.
“Are you sure?” Sasha appeared at his side and peered down at the pan. “We could peel the burnt layer off the outside and eat what’s left.”
Henry tore his gaze from the skillet to study her face, trying to gauge whether she was serious. “I can’t believe a professional chef actually just suggested that.”
She shrugged. “I’ve eaten worse.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. This shit looks bad enough to rival MREs.”
“Come on, be brave. You’re the only guy who’s ever actually cooked me anything. In light of that, I’m willing to suffer through a mouthful of char.”
He sat the pan back down on the stove and eyed it warily. “The only guy?”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Yes. I’ve been cooking all my life – first as a student, then as a professional – so guys always expect me to make them these amazing meals. It never occurs to any of them that I might like a break for once, maybe even more so than the average woman.”
“So in other words, I just did something very, very right.” He stared at the sad contents of the pan, thrilled for a second, before he remembered that he’d fucked it up.
“Believe me, your pathetic chicken breasts mean the world to me.” She reached out and laid a hand on his arm. “You’re definitely getting lucky.”
He laughed, even as his dick jumped to half-mast. Yeah, they’d done it already, but with the way he felt at that moment, they might
Her confession slid between his ribs like an arrow and pierced a sympathetic vein. He’d done the same thing – moved to a new town, started a new life. After electing not to re-enlist after the end of his contract and being discharged from the Marine Corps, he hadn’t been interested in returning home.
He wasn’t the same person he’d been when he’d left, and going back would’ve meant constantly being reminded of that, always running into people who didn’t understand.
He’d been stationed at Camp LeJeune before his discharge, and had lingered in North Carolina, taking a job at Riley a couple months later, ready to start something new – something that wasn’t a constant reminder of what he’d lost, or who he’d been before that. He was hours from the small town in Georgia where he’d grown up. Like Sasha, he had no plans to return.
She stood still and quiet now, studying him as she frowned, her sadness etched into her face.
An answering twinge surfaced inside Henry, little pieces of him that were drawn to her grief like iron shavings to a magnet. The internal shift opened up a place he tried to keep sealed shut, exposing feelings he could see mirrored plainly on her face.
He’d been attracted to Sasha from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her – few men wouldn’t have felt the same way – but he’d never felt like her before. Any sameness between them had been limited to their mutual attraction. Outside of that, they were night and day, north and south. Seeing the things he felt in her eyes was something different, something new.
“Henry…” Her eyes were locked with his, and he couldn’t look away. She wasn’t her usual fiery self, but she’d never looked more beautiful. For the first time, he finally felt like he understood her. Part of her, anyway.
“Yeah?”
“Do I smell something burning?”
CHAPTER 12
“Shit!” Henry turned on his heel and hurried toward the stove. Sasha was right about the burning smell.
Wolf leapt up from the floor and followed, his tail wagging eagerly. As Henry pulled a skillet off a burner, Wolf hovered from a short distance like a vulture over a battlefield, waiting for permission to feast on the disaster.
“Dinner’s ruined,” he announced, staring down at the shriveled clusterfuck his culinary efforts had been reduced to. The chicken breasts were charred black, and he had no doubt they were dry as the Sahara inside.
“Are you sure?” Sasha appeared at his side and peered down at the pan. “We could peel the burnt layer off the outside and eat what’s left.”
Henry tore his gaze from the skillet to study her face, trying to gauge whether she was serious. “I can’t believe a professional chef actually just suggested that.”
She shrugged. “I’ve eaten worse.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. This shit looks bad enough to rival MREs.”
“Come on, be brave. You’re the only guy who’s ever actually cooked me anything. In light of that, I’m willing to suffer through a mouthful of char.”
He sat the pan back down on the stove and eyed it warily. “The only guy?”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Yes. I’ve been cooking all my life – first as a student, then as a professional – so guys always expect me to make them these amazing meals. It never occurs to any of them that I might like a break for once, maybe even more so than the average woman.”
“So in other words, I just did something very, very right.” He stared at the sad contents of the pan, thrilled for a second, before he remembered that he’d fucked it up.
“Believe me, your pathetic chicken breasts mean the world to me.” She reached out and laid a hand on his arm. “You’re definitely getting lucky.”
He laughed, even as his dick jumped to half-mast. Yeah, they’d done it already, but with the way he felt at that moment, they might
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