Page 24 of How You See Me
“Thanks.”
Her hands come up to rest on her hips. “Do I have to call you Staff Sergeant on this trip, or do you prefer something else?”
Exasperation escapes with an exhale. I hate delays and small talk and the way my body reacts to her. All those little bombs assault me at once.
“Hayes is fine.”
“Alright. Would you like something to drink,Hayes?”
“I’m good.” My posture locks up. Arms behind my back. Spine straight. My default setting when the world feels too unpredictable.
“You’re not reporting to duty, Sergeant. Sorry, Hayes. You don’t have to remain attention in my home.”
“It’s just how I stand.”
“You’re gonna be a tough nut to crack, aren’t ya?”
I don’t know how to answer that. Seeing her again has already shifted my fault line.
“You seemed more at ease last time I saw you.”
Is she baiting me? Dangling our almost-kiss like a lure to see if I’ll bite. “Different day.”
She taps her chin with a finger, drawing my attention to her kissable mouth. “You’re not like that Zach Bryan song, are you? ‘I Remember Everything.’ Heard of it?”
“No.”
“The lyrics say he only smiles when he’s drinking. I bet that’s you. I’ll play it for you once we hit the road.”
“Speaking of . . .” Grateful for the lead in, I use it to get back to the purpose for my being here. “Can I get your bags?”
“Oh, right. Um.” Her nose wrinkles with a cringe. “I’m not finished packing yet.”
Of course, she isn’t. I check my watch, and her hands fly up.
“I know. I’m sorry, but in my defense, you’re early. I promised Jordan I wouldn’t cause any trouble and—”
“I’m only anhour early.”
She brushes both hands down her paint-splattered shirt before pivoting and heading into the kitchen. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“By packing so we can leave?”
“By feeding you.” She beams over the counter separating the two rooms. “There’s already a casserole in the oven. Enough for two. While it bakes, I’ll pack. Then, we’ll eat so we won’t have to stop later. How’s that sound?”
Like a delay that could have been avoided. “I don’t need dinner.”
“But it smells good, right?”
Damn, it does.
“They say the way into a man’s good graces is through his stomach.”
“That’s not how it goes.” And talking about my heart, the correct adage, is off limits.
“Tomato potato.” She puts on what she must think is a serious expression and points a wooden spoon at me. She’s too cute to pull it off. “It’s the least I can do. Please make yourself comfortable.”
“I don’t do comfortable.”
