Page 18 of Tyler

“My mom makes a mean lasagna,” she said, meeting his gaze. “She always made sure it was my birthday dinner growing up, while Faith got her favorite…tacos.”

He laughed. “Sounds like my mom. She always made our favorites for our birthdays.”

“Maybe it’s an Italian thing.”

That was another discovery. Both of their mothers shared the same ethnicity, Italian and Slovak. An interesting combination.

“I don’t know.” He grinned. “Maybe.”

She returned her gaze to the screen and inhaled when she clicked on the next photo.

It was one of Ty’s favorites. He’d been hiking off base early one morning and captured the fog rising off the river and into the nearby trees.

“Ty, this is amazing.” She stared slack-jawed at the computer. “I can almost feel the dew and smell the cool morning. It reminds me of home. Well, the Poconos.”

Pleased by her praise, he basked in the warmth and the spot of pride spreading through his chest. “Then it’s yours.”

Piper turned to face him. “What? No. I couldn’t take it.”

He smiled. “You’re not taking it, I’m giving it to you.”

“Let me pay for it. Or showcase it at the gallery along with the others we bookmarked. I insist,” she said, setting a hand on his arm.

Awareness instantly zinged through Ty’s body, and judging by the way she inhaled and the flush spreading through her cheeks, Piper felt it too.

“Okay,” he said. “Whatever you want.”

She blinked while inhaling again. “I’m not sure what I want. No, that’s not true. I know what I want, but I’m scared.”

“Hey,” he said, cupping her hand with his. “It’s okay to be scared. I am too.”

Her brows rose. “You are?”

“Yes. This connection we have going on—it’s all new to me too.”

Her shoulders appeared to relax a little at his admission. “It’s strong. It’s making me feel things I haven’t felt in a longtime.” She tipped her head. “But it’s not you I’m afraid of, Ty. It’s me and my reaction to you.”

Was it bad that her misgivings fed his ego in a major way?

“Listen, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. You’ve got the pole.”

She frowned. “Pole? What do you mean?”

“It’s what we call the control stick,” he replied. “So, you’ve got the pole. You control the pace.”

Disbelief widened her eyes. “You’re okay with that?”

“Of course.” He lifted his hand from hers to lightly caress her cheek. “Take as long as you need. I’ll follow your lead.”

A smile tugged at her lips. “You’ll be my wingman?”

“Sure.” He chuckled, setting his hand on the table. “I’ll be your wingman.”

Her gaze absolutely sparkled now. “Can I call you Goose?”

He snickered. “You can call me anything you want.”

“Amazing. Sweet.”

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