My Heart For Yours (Sinful Secrets 2)

He flashes me a dimpled smile. “Your face.”

“My face?” My tone and countenance are light and teasing, but my body has gone cold.

He nods, forking some pasta. “So expressive.” He brings the bite to his mouth and chews, and as he does, his own brows arch up toward his hairline. I laugh at him.

“Speaking of expressive…”

He swallows. His eyes widen. I watch him lick his lips, pretending that it doesn’t make me hot. “Shit, this stuff is good.”

“You doubted me?”

“Guess not,” he murmurs. He swallows some water.

“Thanks for joining me. It’s nice to hang out when we’re not trying to bash each other’s brains in.”

He gives me a wondering look.

“Too violent?”

He smirks. “No. You’re just…”

I flush.

He looks down at his plate, then up. I see his shoulders sink on an exhale. “You’re very welcoming,” he says finally. He looks slightly puzzled.

“It’s a compulsion. Like early Christmasing. Which by the way is not as bad as people make it seem. It’s all about fun, and what’s so wrong with fun?”

I watch him biting back a laugh. And then he fails and grins.

“So anyway. My family doesn’t live here and neither does my BFF. Mom lives in Memphis, and my older brother Rett is a teacher in Jonesboro, which is South of Nashville. My bestie Jamie lives in Nashville, too. If you’re not careful,” I warn, getting up to get some wine, “I’ll end up adopting you just like any other bear, and you’ll get hooked on my cooking.”

I grab some white I chilled the other day, plus two glasses, using the bustling to hide my aching awareness that he hasn’t answered. I’m coming on too strong. I used to never get a vibe like that from guys, but I guess my looks excused me then.

I sink back into my chair. I sit up straight and cross my ankles underneath the table, determined not to let this dinner devolve into something awkward.

“Where does your family live now?” I ask, pouring some wine. “I don’t think you said… Your dad and brother?”

He pauses with his fork almost to his mouth. “They’re all in California right now.”

I want to ask about his mom. Are his parents married? Is it just the one brother? But I don’t want to sound like an interrogator. I wrack my brain for questions that don’t seem so pushy.

“So how’d you end up in the Army, if you don’t mind my asking?”

He licks his lips and lifts his eyes to mine.

“Here—have some.” I push a glass his way. His hand closes around the stem.

“My Dad was in the Navy,” he says. He takes a swallow and again, his eyebrows lift. He nods, as if to say good stuff. “So Dad joined the Navy to pay for med school,” he continues. “I wanted to join the SEALS, but they said I was part colorblind or some shit. Couldn’t see all the shades of green and red they wanted. Ended up in the Rangers, and on up, instead.”

“On up?”

He looks down at his plate, then back up at me. “I retired from ACE.”

“What’s ACE?”

“Used to be called Delta Force.”

My eyes pop out of my head. “What?”