Climbing the three wooden steps to the wraparound porch, Mark felt as if he’d stepped back in time. True, he led a team of pararescuemen in Afghanistan. But here, at the Benton family home, he was the quiet kid at the table, soaking up every minute of laughter and warmth as if he could bottle it, take it home and bring it out when he was feeling hungry or lonely.
Mark reached the front door and didn’t bother knocking. Not much point when they wouldn’t hear him over the conversation and laughter. Instead, he walked right into the fray.
“Just in time,” Luke called as he set a steaming dish on the long wooden table. “We’re bringing out the last of the food now.”
“Smells great.” Mark headed through the open pocket doors that separated the formal dining room from the entryway. A lace runner, probably handmade by Mrs. Benton, covered the center of the table. It was overflowing with platters and bowls. Homemade biscuits. Pork roast. Potatoes. Salad. There were more vegetables on the table than he remembered, but he had a feeling that as a kid, he’d ignored those.
Everyone filed in from the kitchen and took their places at the table. Mark claimed an empty spot at the end beside Amy and bowed his head. He listened to Gabe’s rushed blessing, knowing the Benton brothers were counting the seconds until they could reach for the biscuits.
“Gabriel
James.” Elizabeth Benton’s voice cut in before her eldest son could wrap up with the words everyone was waiting for: let’s eat. “You can do better. My family is home, safe and sound at my table. I would like to hear a proper prayer of thanks.”
Luke snickered, and Mark suspected Gabe kicked him under the table. But still, the navy SEAL seated at his mother’s right side obeyed. When Gabe issued the final go, everyone reached for the food and started filling their plates.
“Mom, what is this?” T.J. held up a bowl full of curly green leaves. Mark had spotted it, too, and decided to pass on it.
“Kale. It’s good for you,” Mrs. Benton said. “Try it. You’ll like it.”
“You said the same thing about peas.” T.J. eyed the green leaves suspiciously. “I still hate peas.”
“Try it,” Mrs. Benton repeated, and T.J. reluctantly placed a few pieces on the corner of his plate and passed the bowl to Mark.
“Try it,” Amy said, leaning close. Her voice was low, and Mark doubted anyone else heard her as they talked about the upcoming party.
“I need to leave room for biscuits,” Mark said.
“I dare you.” Her words were barely above a whisper, but he saw the playful gleam in her blue eyes.
He placed two curly leaves on his plate. “Fine.”
Amy took the bowl from his hands, her fingers brushing his, sending a red alert to his cock. One touch—that was all it took to set him on edge with need. And he’d been worried things would be awkward after their almost kiss. But there was only an inescapable desire to grab a hold of her and not let go.
“You never could resist a challenge,” Amy murmured.
His mind heard the word challenge and jumped to a play-by-play of what it would take to make her come.
“Must be what makes you so good at your job,” she added.
His job. His team. Right. He felt like a teenager associating every word out of her mouth with sex.
“Hey, Ames.” Gabe waved his half-eaten biscuit in Amy’s direction. “The tent is supposed to be long and narrow, right?”
“What?” Amy said. “No. It’s square. I need to put tables under it. You’ll have to start over—”
“Relax, Ames,” T.J. jumped in. “It’s up and it’s square. We put it together after you left this afternoon. Ninety minutes. Luke timed it.”
“It’s up?” she said, glancing from Gabe to T.J. to Luke. The brothers nodded. And she turned to Mark. “Have you seen it?” she demanded.
“I helped them,” he said. “We can swing by and check it out on our way home.”
“Okay,” Amy said. “But if it is long and narrow, I’m calling the tent crew tomorrow.”
“If it doesn’t look right, there is something wrong with the materials they sent,” Gabe said.
Eloise, seated at Mark’s side, turned to Gabe, one eyebrow raised. “You just don’t want to admit that the scrawny young guys working for the rental company could build it better.”
“They can’t.” Gabe smiled. “But if you need proof, we could take it down and give them a shot at putting it back up. Time them and see if they beat us.”