Or five.
Or a bottle of wine.
“Do you want to go to Spaghetti Sal’s?” I ask him hopefully.
James laughs and I’m caught off guard by how sexy he looks when he laughs. He’s got short dark hair that’s cropped close to his head. He’s in the military, but he doesn’t look intimidating the way I imagine airmen to look. He’s muscular, but he’s not huge. He’s not really big, at least not when it comes to muscles. He’s still pretty damn tall, and that’s saying something because I’m not petite.
I might be slender, but that’s because I spend all my free time running around at work or dancing at Club Kitten. I’m still tall for a woman, and James is taller than me. I’d guess he’s close to six feet. I’m 5’8” and I still have to look up to him.
It’s kind of nice.
He makes me feel tiny, but in a good way.
He doesn’t fit the picture of what I think a military guy should look like. Judging from Army commercials and Marine movies, he should be twice the size he is now. I like that he’s fit, but not enormous. He’s no giant.
He’s not going to hurt me.
Bailey mentioned James had been in the hospital for a few months and only recently got out. I wonder if that has anything to do with his appearance. Maybe he lost some muscle mass when he was in the hospital. I’m not sure. Either way, I like the way he looks. He’s hot, but approachable. If I saw him working out in the gym, I wouldn’t freak out and run away.
“Yeah,” he says, pacing his hand on my lower back. “Let’s go get some spaghetti. I’ll drive.” James and I only recently met, so I don’t know him very well. I like the way he treats me with a careful attention, though. The move to touch my back might be casual, but coming from him it feels intentional. He’s letting me know he’s in control. He’s letting me know that he’s got this, and I love that.
A girl could get used to this kind of care.
We head outside to his car and climb in. I buckle up and he goes around to the dr
iver’s side. I notice he walks with a bit of a limp, but he still seems able to get around okay. Old war injury, maybe? James is probably close to Cooper’s age: mid-20s, maybe. He seems too young to be damaged, but he’s an airman.
Things happen, right?
I don’t know the ins and outs of what actually happens during a deployment. I know some things. I know there’s a lot of death and lot of fighting and a lot of boring work. I know there’s stress beyond comprehension and I know being in the desert changes you.
Did it change James?
He starts the car and pulls out of the courthouse parking lot. I peer at him as he begins to drive. What was he like before he left? Something tells me he used to smile a lot more than he does now. James is a freaking gorgeous specimen of humanity. There’s no doubt about that.
But he’s wounded in some way. It’s obvious from his tight expression, from the way his brow furrows, from the tense muscles in his face. Even when he’s relaxed, even during the wedding, he seems wary, on guard.
Maybe he’ll tell me about it over dinner.
My thoughts shift to Bailey. Bailey. My sweet roommate is now married and enjoying wedded bliss with her new husband. By now, Cooper and Bailey are probably halfway to their hotel. I wonder if they’re actually going to make it there before they start fooling around. Part of me doubts it. They were apart for six months, after all. I know they’ve been catching up, but something tells me they’re going to be spending most of their impending free time together.
“So, what kind of work do you do?” I ask James casually. There’s a chance he won’t be able to tell me anything at all, depending on whether or not his work is classified. I know that there’s a lot Cooper can’t tell Bailey. When he was deployed, they talked pretty frequently, but he could never tell her where he was, what he was working on, or who he was working with. Everything was really hush-hush.
James tenses at my question, but then he relaxes. Maybe he won’t tell me.
“Actually, I’m on medical leave right now,” he says after a long moment of silence.
“What’s that?”
“It means I’m not working because I’m injured. Soon I’ll be medically discharged from the military, so I won’t have a job at all anymore.” There’s that tightness in his face again. This isn’t something he would have chosen for himself. He doesn’t want to get out.
Why would a perfectly perfect specimen of manliness like James be medically discharged?
What could possibly be so wrong they wouldn’t want him around?
“What the hell?” I ask, suddenly mad for him. He was overseas for six months! They’re just going to boot him? What could he have possibly done to get the shaft like that? “Why? Why would you be medically discharged? You look pretty damn fine to me,” I blush at my outburst and at the fact that I basically admitted I think James is super hot.
“Because,” he doesn’t seem to notice my admission of desire, and soon I found out why. James has darker things on his mind. “I lost my leg.”