Page 41 of Mountain Summons

The colonel gave him one last long, assessing look before turning toward the door. “Get some rest, Lieutenant. And remember—two weeks.”

Tristan nodded, but they both knew he wouldn’t stay away that long, not if he could help it. He needed to be back in the air as soon as possible.

The door closed behind Pelegrin. Tristan’s pulse still thrummed, not from fear—he’d faced down worse threats than a protective father—but from something else entirely.Relief. The colonel wasn’t standing in his way. He knew the man enough to know he was a man of his word. He wouldn’t be setting up obstacles between him and Lena.

Which meant the only thing that really stood in the way now … was Lena herself.

The door cracked open, and Lena slipped back inside, a steaming cup of coffee in her hands. Her hair was still a little rumpled from sleep, her sweater slightly askew, but she looked mostly awake.

Lena arched a brow, studying him for a beat. “Did my father try to scare you away from me?”

“No. It was a good chat. And he now knows I’m planning on taking you on a date as soon as I get out of here.”

Lena smiled. “Is that so?”

Tristan reached out with his hand. His fingers brushed lightly against her wrist, sending a ripple of heat through him. Through both of them, he hoped. “Thatisso.”

“You’re really getting discharged today?” she asked.

He nodded. “That’s the plan.”

Her fingers curled slightly, as if debating whether to hold on or let go.

“Good,” she said after a pause. “Then I’ll drive you home. My father dropped off my car this morning.”

Tristan lifted a brow. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know.” A small, lopsided smile. “I want to. I’m also going to be staying with you for a few days. Unless …” She blew outa soft breath, her expression suddenly uncertain. “Unless you have other plans.”

His throat tightened. He was already on the edge with her. If she kept doing things like this, he was going to fall straight into something he couldn’t climb back out of.

But hell, maybe he already had.

He reached out, covering her hand with his, giving her a light squeeze. “I’d like that, Lena.”

17

Lena

Tristan was planning a date.

She knew it, because she’d caught him looking furtively at a ranking of Asian restaurants in the valley, brows drawn in concentration like he was mapping some kind of military strategy.

It was sweet.

It was alsomisguided.

Because Lena didn’t want a date. She wanted sex—hot, steamy sex.

If she were home, she’d take care of it herself with Sammy, her trusty pink vibrator. But Sammy had obviously not been among the things she’d asked her father to pack for her. She could only imagine that conversation.Hey, Dad, while you’re packing up my essentials, could you make sure my vibrator makes it into the bag? Thanks.

She could take care of it herself in other ways, of course. But she didn’t want to use her fingers, or a cucumber from Tristan’s kitchen. She wanted—needed—Tristan himself.

All week, ever since Tristan had gotten discharged from the hospital, she’d been wanting the same thing. It was like her body was running on a slow burn. And the way he sometimes looked at her, she knew he was suffering from the same.

But … nothing.

Not a single move.

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