Page 38 of Midnight Secrets

“You bled,” Isabel said softly. She’d felt his scars. He was covered in them.

“I did. And my training saved my life. We were given intense lessons on explosive devices and I recognized a detonator in a pile of old junk in the Sandbox. I jumped and that saved my life, otherwise I wouldn’t be here, eating your food, holding your hand. The Senior designed the ED lessons and he was thorough. I missed two detonators in the classroom lessons and I ran an extra twenty miles that week and I got assigned a couple of circuses. Next time I identified every single detonator. Ten out of ten.”

“Circuses?” Isabel was fascinated. It was a look into what made an elite warrior.

“Circuses are an extra two hours of calisthenics a day. And trust me when I say that the vanilla version is already pretty extreme. Or we’d be turned into sugar cookies. Made to roll in the sand on the beach at sunrise and stay sandy and uncomfortable all day.”

“I don’t think I’d make a Navy SEAL,” she said primly. “I don’t like that sandy feeling.”

Joe laughed. “Maybe not. We were kept cold and exhausted and sandy but we were expected to keep up in class. But in the field I was hot and exhausted and still noticed the detonator and jumped and that saved my life. So the Senior is more than okay in my book. And everyone says he’s a great boss.” He fidgeted. “I’ve been on the payroll for three months. I can’t wait to get to work.”

“That’s generous of the company. To keep you on the payroll while you’re recovering.”

He was visibly uncomfortable. He clenched his jaw. “I begged them not to put me on payroll. It feels…wrongto be paid for doing nothing.”

“Maybe they think they are assuring your loyalty.”

He looked down at her and shook his head. “They have that already. These are former teammates. They’ve built a great company and I’m honored to be part of it. They have my loyalty regardless.”

“That’s why you trained so hard to get back on your feet,” Isabel said on a sudden insight. “You wanted to get to work as fast as you could.”

It had been amazing, and humbling, to watch. She’d never seen anyone put themselves through the paces like Joe. She sure hadn’t been able to do what Joe had done.

Shame filled her.

She’d been grieving. She’d been lost and lonely. But probably Joe had been grieving too. A lot of men died in war and he’d surely lost friends. And perhaps he’d felt lost and lonely too. It hadn’t stopped him the way it had stopped her.

Just knowing Joe made her feel better. And after sleeping with him, she feltwaybetter.

Joe’s mouth lifted in a half smile. “Some complicated thoughts are going on in that beautiful head of yours.”

“First you hear smiles, now you read thoughts?”

He didn’t say anything, but the smile was full-blown and smug now.

“Don’t answer that. Now.” She stepped away and clapped her hands. “If I’m going to be feeding hordes I’d better get going, don’t you think? And I’ll start with feeding us breakfast.”

Isabel was hungry.Hungry. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt hungry. Her appetite had fled from her world, together with desire and joy and hope. For the first time in forever she was looking forward to eating.

She made to turn away but Joe caught her hands in his huge, callused ones. He searched her eyes. “Is it too much? Too much work today? You’re going to be feeding a lot of people. The guys have learned to come hungry if you’re cooking so they’re going to inhale the food. And then you’re going to have Lauren and Felicity and maybe Suzanne?—”

Isabel reached up to smooth away the frown lines on his forehead. He already had a lot of them, she didn’t want to add any.

“I love cooking,” she said simply. “Or at least I used to. Enjoying cooking is just one of the many things that was taken from me. I feel a little excited at the thought of cooking for people, seeing their reactions to what I’ve prepared. I know everyone is going to be friendly and if I don’t burn things or add a ton of salt, they’re predisposed to like it. I can’t go wrong. I really want to do this, Joe. Trust me.”

“I do.” A crafty look stole over his face. “But before they come over, what’s for breakfast?”

* * *

Breakfast was amazing.Fresh-made croissants—Joe didn’t think he’d ever met anyone who could actually make them from scratch. Homemade bread, too, chewy and delicious. Three kinds of red jams she’d made.

She hadn’t churned the butter. He asked.

And he could see that she was telling the truth when she said that cooking made her happy. Made him happy, too, in a major way.

But for Isabel it was clearly satisfying on some deep level. Joe was grateful without understanding it. Cooking was something he had to do once in a while because even he knew eating breakfast, lunch and supper in diners or ordering takeout wasn’t good for you. But he hated it. He could never figure out timing. The steaks were done while the baked potatoes were still raw. And though he tried, he couldn’t like salad or sliced tomatoes. At least he hadn’t until he’d tasted Isabel’s salads. They were light and fresh. And she seemed to find something that wascalleda tomato but wasn’t a mealy pink thing, but dark red and small and luscious.

She looked happy as she moved around in the kitchen. No, more than happy. She glowed. He hadn’t seen her like this and it was a world away from the trembling, paper-white woman he’d met that first day.

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