Page 31 of Right With You
She chuckled as she stirred something in a large pan on the stove. “Funny how going into the military could be considered selfish. It’s a form of service.”
I pulled the cork and filled two glasses with healthy pours of the robust red wine. I hoped she’d like it. “It can be. For some people, it’s service. For some, it’s a job when there’s no other option. For some, it’s an escape.” I thought of Kenny, for whom it’d definitely become one. But he was also someone whoserved.
“They call itservingin the military for a reason. I don’t think a person’s motives have to be altruistic to qualify. There are naturally things that a person does in the military, things they give up and things they take on, that is different than anything else.”
The edge in her voice, the way it sounded defensive of me and my friends and anyone else who’d served, sparked in my chest.
I stepped closer and held out her glass of wine, which she took. “Well then, to those who served.”
Her lips slid up into a bright smile. “To those who served.”
Our gazes held as we each tipped back the glasses and took our first sips. My eyes dipped to her lips as she pressed them together like she was savoring the flavor of the wine.
My stomach clenched and I swayed forward, then cleared my throat and pulled back, remembering myself. She turned quickly and spoke to the pan.
“Could you get the salad stuff out of the fridge? I have some field greens and a vinaigrette I made earlier. Nothing fancy.”
Did she have any idea how long it’d been since I’d enjoyed a simple homemade meal with a woman? Maybe this didn’t technically count as a date, but it should’ve. It did, in my opinion.
My friends and I often cooked for each other, especially during ski season when the restaurants were so full of tourists it made quick pop ins less appealing. But this… having her slide chicken and wild rice onto our plates then bustle to set them down at her tiny table while I brought the salad bowl and dressing along with my wine… it all felt so good.
A facile thought, maybe, but I couldn’t deny that the simple domestic routine of preparing dinner together sent a needle of longing weaving in and out between my ribs.
“So, pretty basic. It’s just chicken and some wild rice and salad. I’m sorry it’s not?—”
She waved her hand and I caught it, giving into the temptation to touch her. “This looks delicious. Thank you so much for cooking.”
She pulled in a breath and I released her instantly, not wanting to encroach, but certain I couldn’t listen to her apologize for making me dinner. Even if it proved inedible, her efforts were genuinely kind, and I wouldn’t think of demeaning them.
“Thank you. I mean, you’re welcome.” She pressed her lips together like she had to or she’d say something else.
We took our seats and dug in. Happily, the food was all delicious. Simple, sure, but flavorful and well-cooked. It was perfect.
“This is excellent, Elise. Thank you,” I said, finishing my last bite. We’d hardly spoken, and I’d become ravenous after the first taste.
She finished chewing and studied me while she did. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone eat an entire meal in five minutes.”
I swallowed a sip of wine. “Then you’ve not spent much time with soldiers, I’d guess.”
She chuckled and took a drink, too. “Maybe not. Or if I have, they’ve all been on their best behavior.”
“That’s it exactly. We tend to force ourselves to slow down and act decently fairly well.”
“Should I be alarmed or honored you don’t feel the need to slow down for me?” She leaned back in her seat, her shoulders relaxed, and her eyes soft.
Seeing her so comfortable brought me something more than relief—it brought me a bright, almost glowing sensation of pleasure.
“Definitely honored. Your food was so good, I forgot my manners.”
Her laugh was deliciously disbelieving. “Of course it was.”
“I’ll always tell you the truth,” I said, hoping she’d believe me because I meant it. So far, I hadn’t lied to her, and I didn’t intend to. I wanted her to trust that.
“I think I believe you.”
“Good.”
Her dark eyes hooked into mine, and the thought that I could drown there flashed in my head. What a cheesy, useless thought, and yet the need to stay latched into her kept me glued to my seat, until she broke away and stood.
