Page 14 of Sloane

“So, let me get this straight, you’re not dating anyone? It’s like I’ve entered an alternate Universe.”

“Har har. No. Grace told me I had to be single for a year before she’d date me, so, I’ve got eight months to go.”

“Take the win that she even agreed to date you—ever.”

“Speaking of wins… your pen pal seems great.”

I didn’t bother trying to disguise my grin. “She is, isn’t she?”

“How long have you two been writing each other?”

“Pretty much since I arrived in the Middle East. I think her first letter got there about a week after I did. I enrolled our company with Military Angels before we left the States, and they don’t mess around once people get signed up.”

“I remember you telling us about the organization before you left, so I know she’s not the first person who’s written to you.” One of Craig’s eyebrows hiked up in accusation. “Do you kiss all of your pen pals like that?”

With a grin, I slung my duffel bag over my shoulder. “Nope, she’s the first, and I’m hoping the last.”

I turned on my heel to head back to Ashley’s car, but Ryan exclaimed, “Whoa, hold on. What does that mean?”

I spun around but kept walking—only backward now. “What do you think it means?”

Ryan simply shook his head, and muttered, “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“See you guys over there.”

“Don’t be late!”

“Of course not,” I said with mock indignance before turning back around, but inside I was thinking, No promises.

Because if Ashley wanted to engage in any activities that would make us late, I certainly wasn’t going to tell her no.

****

Ashley

I tried viewing my little apartment through his eyes as I stepped through the front door first.

Thank goodness Catherine is a true romantic and told me to take the rest of the week off, so I’d had some time to kill that morning and had been able to clean before heading to the base. I remembered Sloane had once told me he was a little obsessive about cleanliness. I didn’t want to make a bad impression right off the bat or make him uncomfortable in my home.

The place had a shabby chic look to it. Which was a nice way of saying I bought furniture at thrift stores and refinished it, but that I wasn’t exactly a professional at it.

Sloane set his bag down and leaned over to untie his boots.

I was about to tell him he didn’t have to do that, but then realized him knowing I didn’t always take my shoes off would probably bother him, so I bent over next to him to unzip my boots, too.

He looked around the apartment. The kitchen, dining, and living rooms were all one area—divided only by the appropriate furniture for each room. I’d chosen pastel colors for the décor to complement the white furniture, and I’d tried to pick up a few decorator pieces with every paycheck to make the rooms more stylish. Framed pictures of me and my mom sat on a bookshelf, along with pictures of me and Tammy, and the girls I’d gone to college with that were still in my core group of friends.

“I like your place,” he commented as he took a tentative step into the living room and surveyed the area. “It’s very cozy.”

“That’s what I was going for.” I paused a beat, then asked, “Do you want to see my bedroom?”

His eyebrows went up and a smirk crossed his lips.

I felt my face burn with embarrassment. I knew my birthmark was probably indistinguishable from how red I must be.

“I mean… not like that…” I took a deep breath and dropped my shoulders in defeat. “I just meant, I refinished the furniture in here, and I did the same with my bedroom. I’m kind of proud of it, so would you like to see the furniture in my bedroom that I redid?”

His eyes twinkled with amusement at my rambling. His adorable dimple appeared when he replied, “Yes, of course, I’d love to see your bedroom furniture.”

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