He grins. “Yes. You. Brilliant guess.”
Mr. Popular Guy from high school skipped his flight—I think—to hang out with me.
“I could use the company, a little carefree time in Chicago to drink too much and hang out with a beautiful woman. What do you think?”
“Uh …”
“She’ll have to pass.” Nate’s voice startles me along with his hands sliding around my waist. His face nuzzles into my neck. I rest my hands over his, releasing a nervous laugh.
Steve’s eyebrows lift into peaks. “I didn’t realize you were …”
“Uh …” I can’t seem to find a better word than uh. “Steve this is Nathaniel Hunt. Nate this is …” My brain trips.
“Steve Marks,” Steve fills in for my slow brain.
“Yeah …” I whisper with an awkward smile.
“You didn’t mention you had a lunch date,” Nate says.
“I just was looking for someplace to eat, and there was a line and Steve was here so …”
“I have a ninety-minute break. We can grab something together.”
“She just ordered.” Steve takes a bite of his sandwich.
Nate releases me and situates himself so he’s leaning his arm on the top of the table with his back to Steve. We have a little stare off.
I lose. He has ninety minutes, and he wants to spend them with me. It’s a disaster in the making, but who doesn’t like a good disaster once in a while?
“I haven’t eaten today,” I give him a toothy grin.
“I’ll have the waiter send your lunch to the room,” Nate counters.
“I haven’t paid for it yet.”
Nate slides his hand into his front pocket, pulls out several folded bills, and tosses a fifty onto the table. “I’ll go tell the waiter.” Nate turns to Steve. “Nice meeting you.”
Steve nods as I slide off the stool. “Seems like he’s more than a friend.”
I slide my purse strap onto my shoulder. “I hope so. It was nice catching up with you. Thanks for the drinks Friday, even if it was a couple glasses too many. Have a safe trip home.”
Nate comes back over to the table and holds out his hand. I stare at it for a couple of seconds before placing mine in it.
“Did you just mark your territory back there?” I ask as he leads me to the elevators.
“If you’re implying I pissed on something, then no. I’m too old for that.”
He pushes the button and the doors open. Several people follow us onto the elevator. We stay silent on the way to the ninth floor. He leads me to the hallway, staying a few steps ahead of me, squeezing my hand.
“If you’re implying I let a man who was hitting on you know that you weren’t going to be sightseeing with him this week, then yes … I was marking my territory. You good with that?” He unlocks the door to the room and glances over his shoulder at me.
“Caveman.” I try to hide my grin.
He doesn’t. He just laughs. “I don’t even know what that means. I’m old-school, not Homo neanderthalensis.” Releasing my hand, he pushes open the door and holds it for me. “I settle property disputes with my fists, not urine.”
I roll my eyes and walk into the room.
“Honestly, Neanderthals were not only intelligent but quite accomplished with much larger brains than men today. So I highly doubt they claimed women by pissing on things,” he says.
“Wow … here I thought you were just a pretty face. You’re actually kind of smart.”
Nate starts to unbutton his shirt. “Eleven years of college. I just wanted to prove myself.”
“Are you done proving yourself?”
“Not even close.” His grin insinuates all kinds of naughty things.
I hug my stomach as it growls. “This morning, before you got in the shower …”
He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out.”
“Gabe won’t want to move.”
He shrugs off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor. “Have you asked him? Or did you make the guilty assumption and then felt too afraid to ask, the way I was too afraid to ask Morgan. Are we guarding them too much? Military families don’t pussyfoot around reality. When it’s time to move, it’s time to move. That’s life.” He sits on the bed and grabs my waist, pulling me to stand between his legs.
“Where was this tough love talk a year ago?” I rest my hands on his shoulders.
“I don’t know if Morgan would have been receptive then. She was dealing with some pretty big life changes.”
“It’s not just about Morgan. It’s about Gabe too. Jenna died over eleven years ago. Gabe’s parents … both parents have only been gone a year. He still sees a psychologist. He still wants to spend every moment he can either playing with friends or playing soccer.”
He lifts my shirt just enough to kiss along my belly, dipping his tongue into my navel. “Madison has soccer. He plays with his friends online … playing games most of the time. We have internet at our house. I know some very good psychiatrists. And the schools are good. He’ll make plenty of new friends.”