Rev (Jack 'Em Up #4) by Shauna Allen Page B

wanted more. “Wanna come to my place for dinner?”
    “You’re not sick of me yet?”
    I tensed at her lighthearted words that couldn’t disguise her uncertainty. “Never.”
    “Well, if you’re sure . . .”
    “I’m sure.”
    “That’d be nice. Thanks.”
    I let the music fill the void rather than say anything else and hit the accelerator. She didn’t seem to mind, eyes closed, her face up to catch the late afternoon breeze.
    I let her into my apartment and instantly regretted it. I hadn’t cleaned up. A pile of clean laundry was on the couch, waiting to be folded. A huge pile of unopened mail crowded my bar. I needed to take out the trash.
    I stood uncertainly by the door as she made a beeline for my wall of family photos. “Is this your mom?”
    “Yeah.”
    She leaned in to study the picture. “She’s beautiful.” She faced me. “You favor her.”
    I dropped my keys on the end table. “So I’ve heard.” I walked over and examined the photo again. We’d taken it right before I enlisted. Such naïve innocence shone in my eyes.
    Jewel’s arm brushed mine as she moved down to study an old picture of me and my brothers. She smiled. “Adorable.”
    “I knocked out Nathaniel’s front tooth the next day,” I informed her with a smirk. “Socked him right in the mouth when he stole my Millennium Falcon.”
    Her laugh was light and easy. “Boys. My brothers were the same way.”
    “I feel sorry for my mom and all she put up with. We all turned out okay though.”
    “You certainly did.” She turned back to the pictures before I could reply. “Don’t you have any military photos? I’d love to see you in uniform . . .” Her face dropped. “What?”
    “No.” I spun for the kitchen and began rifling through the cabinets.
    I felt her behind me, but she kept quiet.
    I leaned on the sink with my back to her and dropped my head. “I don’t like to remember.”
    Her hand was suddenly on my forearm. “I understand. It’s okay. I’m sorry I upset you.”
    I rolled my head to face her. “It’s not your fault. I’m just not there yet. I’m not sure I’ll ever be.”
    “Was it that bad?”
    “It was worse.”
    “Oh, God, Micah. I hate that you hurt.”
    “Ditto.”
    Our eyes met and the moment pulsed with more than simple attraction or lust. I would swear I felt my very soul yearning for hers, my heart mending itself as it basked in her light.
    “What a pair we are.”
    I huffed a wry half-laugh. “That’s no joke.” I pushed away from the counter. “How do you feel about spicy?”
    A half-smile curled her sweet lips. “I feel good about it.”
    “I was going to make spicy Asian beef tonight. I think I have enough for two.”
    “I feel really good about that. How can I help?”
    “Stand there and look pretty while I cook.”
    She quirked a brow at my use of the word ‘pretty’ but didn’t say anything. Instead, as I sliced and sautéed, she insisted on setting the table and continuing our question game.
    By the time we sat to eat, she’d learned my favorite color was gray, my first pet was a hamster I’d named Luke (after Luke Skywalker), my first kiss was with Jessica Royce, I got spanked plenty as a kid, but not as much as my brother, Nathaniel, and that I hated oatmeal.
    By silent agreement, we avoided all talk of the military and her ex, and it became easy after a while to pretend they didn’t exist. It was just us in this little bubble, two lost souls who’d found each other and shared a love for blueberries.
    I gleaned from her reactions and answers to my questions that she’d always been self-conscious of her weight, but it had been exacerbated by that fucker, Nolan, who obviously treated her like shit. I was at a loss as to how to help her see herself the way I did. Perfect in every way.
    Well, except that she wasn’t a Star Wars fan.
    This came out over coffee after dinner.
    “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I chided. “George Lucas is a genius.”
    “I don’t