"Well, I—"
"We don't have a choice. End of story." He nudged his sunglasses back up.
It was going to be a long ride into L.A. No discussions of Academy days or superstitions. Not even a token chat about military history.
No touching. No kissing.
She should be grateful. She liked order and peace. Right?
Except, her life was a mess. She could almost imagine Lt. Col. Dawson tsking on the sidelines over their definite "thumbs-down" couple of weeks.
Heaven knew, they were trying. Researching. Brainstorming. Pressing for answers until they were easily the least popular couple on base.
They'd put enough miles on the Ford Taurus to earn an Hertz Gold Card membership. She firmly intended to use the upgrade. The once roomy car had become decidedly smaller every day.
Tanner scanned through radio stations, his sunglasses in place and not showing signs of budging anytime soon. Aviator sunglasses reflected the sun, while hiding the man. His biceps rippled with each radio adjustment, straining against his navy cotton polo.
Definitely an SUV in their future.
Kathleen curled her toes inside her tennis shoes, cracking through the restless tension. Too bad she couldn't do that with the rest of her body. Okay, she was frustrated. Sexually frustrated. If she couldn't have sex with him, she was almost desperate enough to settle for her only option for relieving tension with Tanner.
Arguing.
Except the chattiest guy on earth wouldn't even talk to her, much less argue with her. Maybe he needed a push.
She reached for the radio, scanned, passed up an oldies channel, soft rock, country, waiting for something like…
Polka music.
With a satisfied sigh she settled back behind the wheel. Tanner scowled, but stayed silent. She had to give him credit. He endured three accordion stanzas before he nailed the scan button.
Oldies. A droning love ballad about keeping each other up all night.
She tapped scan.
Kathleen thought she heard a low rumble sound in Tanner's chest, but she couldn't be sure. Scan. Soft rock again. Scan. Hard rock. Scan. Country. Scan…
National Public Radio. Creating Christmas decorations for under a dollar.
Kathleen returned her hands to ten-two while radio waves filled the air.
"Don't waste your pennies on paper icicles and thready angel hair. Create your own snowy winter wonderland with dryer lint."
Tanner pinched the bridge of his nose.
"With all that holiday family company, you'll be running loads of fluffy white guest towels through the dryer. Put that extra lint to good use. For a candy cane effect, send your favorite red sweater for a tumble. And now for a holiday cheer break, here's the Little Reindeer Choir with—"
Tanner jammed the off button with the heel of his hand. Kathleen waited for him to say something. A minute ticked by, drifting into another one before she decided he would need more prodding.
She gripped the steering wheel and prepared for a steam-releasing battle. "It's not fair you get to be the god of radios as well as aviation."
"Life's not fair."
"Well, that's really mature."
"Like your radio game?"
"Only trying to fill the silence, hotshot."