Page 43 of A Soldier's Return

“I can grab a sandwich at home.”

“I’m not super talented in the kitchen, but I do make a mean omelet. They’re kind of a specialty of mine. Come on. It’s the least I can do, after you were kind enough to let me sleep in your car.”

It would be rude to refuse, he told himself. Plus, he wanted to make sure she would be okay on her own without her daughter.

“An omelet does sound good right now.”

She smiled and unlocked the door. “It will hit the spot. Trust me.”

He did. He trusted her more than any woman in a long time.

The question was, did he trust himself?

What had seemed like a brilliant idea while the two of them were standing outside on her porch suddenly lost a great deal of its shine once they walked inside her apartment.

Melissa was having a hard enough time resisting the man. Sharing late-night snacks alone in her kitchen when there was a chance she might still be slightly buzzed could very well be more temptation than she could resist.

She was still trying to deal with how perfect it had seemed to wake up in his arms. She had felt safe and warm and cared for, though she knew that was ridiculous. How had she ended up there? She still wasn’t quite sure. He had explained that she had fallen asleep in the vehicle on the way home from the tavern, but that didn’t really explain how she had gone from sitting on her side of the vehicle to being cradled so tenderly in his arms.

Had she snored? Drooled? Done anything else completely mortifying? She had no idea. She also didn’t understand how he hadlether keep sleeping when he could have awakened her the moment he pulled up outside Brambleberry House. Why hadn’t he just honked the horn or shouted in her ear? He could have just opened the door and pushed her out, for that matter.

Still, waking up in his arms had felt completely right, somehow.

She was falling for him and she had no idea what to do about it. She knew perfectly well it would only end up in heartbreak for her. He had made it clear he was leaving at the first opportunity. Under other circumstances, she might have followed after him and used her own skills to help those in need.

That was utterly impossible at this stage of her life. She had a daughter. They were settling into life here in Oregon. She didn’t have the freedom to let herself fall for someone whose heart was somewhere else. Been there, done that.

She swallowed. She had invited him for an omelet, which was the least she could do after he had been so sweet about trying to distract her from being upset about Skye spending the night with her father.

So she had slept in his arms for a few moments and had awakened with a powerful urge to kiss the dark shadow of his jaw and pull his mouth to hers. She hadn’t done that, which meant she had more self-control than she gave herself credit.

She only had to keep her hands off him for the ten minutes it would take her to fix him an omelet and the ten minutes it would take him to eat it. She could handle that.

She led the way into the kitchen, flipping on lights as she went, and quickly tied on an apron.

“This won’t take long,” she promised him.

“I can help.”

“There’s not much to do. I suppose you could cut the peppers while I do the onions.”

“Sure.”

She pulled a green pepper out of the refrigerator, pointed him to the cutting board and handed him a knife, then put on the food-grade gloves she used so onion juice didn’t seep into her skin.

After sniffing around it, Max settled into the corner on the pillow Skye kept there for Fiona’s visits, and a comfortable silence filled the kitchen, broken only by the sounds of chopping.

She was the first to break it.

“Who is Miri?”

His knife came down hard on the cutting board, and if she hadn’t been watching him she might have missed the sudden bleak look that he quickly blinked away.

“How do you...know about Miri?”

“I’m not sure. I think you may have said her name in your sleep. I thought maybe I’d dreamed it, but obviously not.”

He let out a breath and then another, and she could tell the question had upset him.

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