Page 73 of Lucky Charm
“Let me get my coat. My quarters work for you?”
He hesitated, the memory in his eyes. She was sure it was in hers, too. Yet, that’s where it would be the most private – where it could be Hunt talking to Cait, not lieutenant to captain or SEAL to doctor or anyone standing around waiting to tattle or make up tales. She needed one place where their honesty, their attraction could stay true to what they wanted.
“Or somewhere else. Whatever you think.” Her voice wobbled, and she cleared it. Of all the serious situations she’d endured in the tours she’d done of this war zone, this topped as the most serious.
“What’s wrong?” He mouthed the words at her.
“Not here.” She mouthed, then spoke quietly. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be here.” If he had doubts, they weren’t showing in his eyes. A calm resolve in his expression and his posture left her musing about what else could go wrong. Events buffeted them both, yet they still arrowed back to each other.
She waved off anyone who wanted to talk and grabbed her heavy uniform coat from the locker room. She caught a glance of herself in the mirror and stopped to brush her hair into a better ponytail and put on some tinted lip balm. She needed a moment, not to let her temper settle, but to corral the hurt. Of all people who should have asked and had her back, she’d expected it to be Duncan. She stopped in the break room to take the sandwich one of the nurses brought her from the mess, then she went around the corner to the waiting room.
Hunt stood patiently in the doorway where she’d been standing. “Do you want to go ahead? I’ll sneak in behind you.”
“No. Let’s go together. We’re adults, and I’m done with secrets. We’ve got too many to keep for this mission as is. Let’s don’t make more things we have to worry about.”
Puzzlement in his eyes, he followed her to a side door. She wanted to reach for his hand but didn’t. She wanted to make conversation but was too tired and aggravated. She wished for his friendship as well as the intimate. Were they friends already? Given the circumstances, how was that possible?
Close to her quarters, he finally spoke. “You’re pretty quiet.”
“Tired, frustrated, and I could use some hot chocolate and a hug. Think it’ll snow tonight?”
Hunt looked to the sky and seemed to test the air – with his nose, with the wind against his face. “Maybe.”
“I have hot chocolate. You want some?”
Hunt’s fleeting smile was worth more than four times her salary. “Yeah, I’d take that. It’ll go with the cookie in my pocket.”
She smiled, touched. “You stole me a cookie.”
“No stealing involved. I’m giving you mine.”
That sentiment took her breath away.
Darkness encroached, enhanced by the overcast deep gray in the sky and sporadic shadows. They tramped into her building. By mutual action, they both went quiet. Fishing in her pocket for her key, she cursed the tingle caressing her senses. He stayed close behind her. Her body knew the reality of his. That she needed that bit of normalcy with a desperation that choked wasn’t a big surprise. Her fingers trembled trying to get the key in her lock, and he reached a hand forward to help.
“You’re chilled.” His deep voice, used in a near whisper at her ear, rattled her composure.
“Yeah. A little.” Inside her room, she shed her coat and put it on a hook by the door. Thankfully, since she’d battled the insomnia monster and dreams last night, she kept busy with cleaning her space.
Hunt shut the door, put the lock in place, shed his own coat and put it on a hook beside hers. Heput his hands on his hips and gazed at her. The black cargo pants and black thermal shirt shouted strong, confident male. The flex of his arm muscles combined with his potent green gaze and dark hair amped up shivers of awareness. He owned her space, filling the chilly room with a solid presence that once again signaled waiting pleasure.
The moment, though, slipped into awkwardness, and she didn’t want that. She moved to the dresser top where she kept her hot pot and laid her sandwich aside. She poured water from the bottle that sat there and plugged the pot in. Taking out two packets of instant hot chocolate from the top drawer, she turned to Hunt. “Not like making it from scratch, but I’ll take anything warm right now. You still want some?”
“Sure.” He stepped to the bed and sat, the replay of their first moments together months ago washed over her senses. “Scott wants you to hold and not say or do anything yet. He’s running everything to command.”
“I feel compelled to point out that my commander isn’t going to like being left out of the loop, but I’ll do what you ask. Security, you. Medicine, me. Remember?” She turned back to search the top drawer for disposal cups and a spoon.
His lips tipped in a slight smile. “Yes, I remember.”
He went silent. The pot bubbled and she fixed the hot chocolate, all the time aware that he was watching her. “You’re very quiet now, too,” shefinally said, desperate for conversation if they weren’t going to relieve the tension another way.
The bed creaked when he rose, and the next moment, he was behind her with a hand on her back. “I’m giving myself a lecture.”
She looked over her shoulder. “About?”
“Permission, consent, losing myself in you, respect and trust.” He took the cups out of her hands and set them on the dresser. “Come here.” He pulled her back to the bed, sat, and patted his knee. “Sit. Right here. Let’s talk.”
