Joint Forces (Wingmen Warriors 7)

She longed for one of his books to throw. Breathe. Think. Don't let the angry, passionate—pained—emotions clamoring through her reign.

Rena clamped a hand around his arm. "Hold on a minute. Jesus, J.T., you throw that land mine in my lap, clam up and then wonder why I explode."

Tension rippled under her fingers. "I'm not going to fight with you today."

"I don't want to fight." She really, really didn't want to fight at the moment. But a public parking lot wasn't the place for what her body demanded. "We were talking. That's good. Why do we have to stop?"

His smoky gray eyes brushed her lips as surely as his kiss, lingered, finally fell away. A long exhale cut the silence before he swung his feet back into the truck. "Okay, fine. We'll talk. We never did come up with anything concrete about Chris, anyway."

Her hands clenched. She didn't want to talk about their children. She wanted to hear more about how much he'd missed her. And why. Silly, frivolous words, considering her age and how long they'd been married.

All the more reason they were better off talking about their children. Safer for them. Safer for her heart.

J.T. slammed the truck door. "I'm not sure what's up with the boy anymore. I have tried to talk to him. Guys just approach things … differently."

"Guess that's why men have more heart attacks than women."

He draped his wrist over the steering wheel. "I'll try to talk to Chris. If you have any ideas for conversation starters, I'm not adverse to listening." His gray eyes lit. "Then I can translate them into manspeak."

"Manspeak?"

"Sure. You've seen those lists that float around on the Internet. Guy says 'uh-huh' and it means—"

"It means, 'I'll agree to anything if you'll quit blocking my view of the football game."'

"Busted." He grinned.

"So if I asked Chris if he's upset and does he need to share what's bothering, you would ask…?"

"Something pissing you off?"

"Or if he's suffering from any anxiety about his parents splitting?"

"You okay about everything?"

Ah. Understanding hummed through her as clearly as the airplane's drone overhead. "Your question is a third as long as mine. And vague. What if he misses the point because of that vagueness?"

"What if I'm missing the point and he tells me something I never expected?"

Surprise at his insight stunned her quiet. What else might he have offered up if she'd asked his input on the parenting more often? "Valid thought."

"Yeah, I just made it up."

A laugh snorted free. His dry wit always snuck up on her like that. "But women need those extra words. Otherwise how are we supposed to know when you're in pain?"

"There's your logic flaw. A man's never in pain."

"That he'll admit."

"Bingo."

What else could she pry out of her reticent husband with a few more questions? "So how does a woman know when a man needs something?"

A slow smile dimpled his rugged handsomeness seconds before his smoky gray eyes steamed over her. "Oh, babe, trust me, you'll know."

The truck cab fogged all over again, heavier this time since it sparked the barely banked heat of their kiss moments prior. She wanted so much from him, and she was right in demanding he pony up more in their relationship.

But she'd hit a wall so many times with her clam-up husband. Regardless of whether they stayed together, they would be together in many ways because of their children. She needed to understand J.T.'s hidden emotions if she ever expected to survive without combusting into flames—from both anger and passion. "What does it mean when a guy stumbles on his wife in the kitchen and when she offers to share her precious chili, he says, 'What the hell are you doing up?'"