“No problem.”
She set one of the mugs at her place, one at his, and slid into her seat. Jeremy dropped down across from her and dove into his eggs. Erica took a more cautious bite, then closed her eyes with a blissful sound. Not only was he gorgeous, but he cooked like a damned rock star.
So not fair.
“Wow. You really know your way around the kitchen. I thought you were just showing off.”
“Me? Show off? Please. I’m just so naturally attractive to members of the opposite sex that it just seems like I’m showing off. This is all me, baby.”
“Call me ‘baby’ one more time, jerk.”
He grinned. “Anything you want, baby.”
She picked up a crumbled bit of bacon and threw it at him. He laughed and held his hands up, warding it off. She hated to admit it, but she’d missed this. He’d always let his playful side out around her, something he’d never let many people see. It had always made her feel special. Stupid, but true.
He met her eyes. His own were so warm, that little crease at the corners making her sigh. “I thought I was out of the active combat zone,” he said.
“I don’t think so, Addison. This is war.”
“What did I do to deserve that? Is it because of my studly charm?”
“Oh, God.” She dropped her face into her palm. “What studly charm?”
“You know you want me, baby.”
“…you pick that line up in Vegas?”
“No, I just thought I’d call you ‘baby’ one more time to see if you’d actually try to kick my ass.” He pointed his fork at her. “Eat. I didn’t get up at the asscrack of dawn to cook for you so you could ignore it.”
She laughed, but dutifully picked up her fork. “You make yourself sound like my wife or something.”
He choked on a mouthful of eggs, swallowed, and reached for his dog tags. “Uh. Yeah. I guess. So, uh…did you sleep well?”
“Honestly? Not really.” She scrunched her nose and picked up a piece of bacon to nibble at it. “Rough night.”
Yeah. Rough. If you could call tossing and turning rough, while she wondered if he was awake, too, and wishing things could be different between them. Wishing things could be like they were seven years ago, before everything changed.
He sighed. “Me too. I couldn’t sleep at all. I can’t stop thinking about that kiss.”
She stiffened. So much for the casual act. “You might as well stop. It was a mistake to kiss each other.”
“Why?”
“We’re…friends. We should stay that way.” She tugged at her shirt and looked away. “Trust me, it’s better that way.”
“Let me guess. It’s because of who I am and where I come from. Right?” He set his fork down, stood, and braced his hands against the table, his eyes blazing. “You’re ashamed you let someone like me kiss you. Admit it.”
She rose, circled the table, and thwacked his arm as hard as she could. Which wasn’t very hard. Ow. She might have bruised her knuckles on his bicep. “Someone like you? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t act coy. You’re embarrassed because I don’t have a career, or a master’s degree. I came from the streets, I’ll die in the streets, and I’ll never be good enough for you.”
Her vision flashed red. She balled up her fists until her fingers hurt. He thought he wasn’t good enough for her? That he didn’t deserve her? What an idiot. She punched his shoulder. Still not so much as a flinch. That was even more infuriating, and she shook her aching hand, scowling.
“How dare you say that about yourself? You’re a better man than anyone I’ve ever known, and don’t you even think about saying otherwise. You’re a fucking Marine, you dumbass. A big damned hero.”
His nostrils flared. He gripped her arms and dragged her closer. “If it’s not that, then what is it? I know you want me as much as I want you. I’m not blind.”
“It’s…I’m…it just wouldn’t work!” Why wouldn’t he just drop it? “A relationship between us is out of the question.”