Blackwolf's Redemption
“Yessir.”
Jesse narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” She hesitated. “It just, you know, slipped out. I mean, I saw your uniform. It was just hanging there. Look, I didn’t mean to pry….”
“Then don’t,” he said sharply. “Just give me those bowls.”
The look she flashed would have made him laugh if he’d been in a better mood, but he wasn’t in a better mood and all she got in return was a glare.
She slapped the bowls on the counter beside him. He ladled the soup into them, then turned off the camping stove.
“I was in the army,” he said flatly. “Okay?”
“Fine.”
“Now, sit down and eat.”
She took one of the high-backed stools, dipped her spoon into the bowl he put before her…and cleared her throat.
“That didn’t look like a regular army uniform. I mean, those boots. And that hat on the shelf…”
“And what do you know about regular army uniforms?”
“We had ROTC on campus.”
“Yeah,” he said with biting sarcasm, “Reserve Officers’ Training Corps. Well, that sure makes you an expert.”
“Look, if you don’t want to talk about it—”
“I was in Special Forces.” His tone was not only flat, it was icy. “Any more questions?”
Sienna shook her head. He was right, she was prying, and it was none of her business.
“Fine. Now, eat your soup.”
“Any other orders you want to give, General?”
“Wrong rank,” he said curtly. “And I’m not giving you orders, I’m just telling you what to do.”
Her eyebrows rose. Who could blame her? He knew he sounded like an idiot.
“Okay,” he said, “okay, I’m not good at this.”
“At what?” Her smile was as sickly sweet as her voice. “At behaving like a human being?”
“At having anybody here. This place…I spend most of my time here alone.”
“What a surprise.”
“I’m not much for company.”
Another of those sugar-on-overload smiles. “I’d never have guessed.”
He looked at her. There was that attitude again. Women weren’t supposed to be like that. They weren’t supposed to have that do-I-strike-you-as-a-pushover thing going on—but then, he’d never known a woman like this one.
This was, no question, turning into an interesting experience. Except he didn’t want an interesting experience. He’d had enough of those to last a lifetime.
“Just eat the soup.” He pushed a plate piled high with slices of white bread toward her. “Bread, too. You burned up a lot of calories today.”
He could almost hear her thinking of a way to refute what he’d said, just as a matter of principle. But she was too smart for that. Despite her earlier claim about not being hungry, she was. She needed food; she knew it, he knew it, and after a couple of seconds she shrugged, picked up her spoon and dug in.
She ate all her soup. Four slices of bread. When she finished, she licked her lips.
“That was delicious.”
He nodded, folded his sixth piece of bread in half and bit into it.
“I am,” he said, “one hell of a gourmet cook.”
She looked at him. Then, slowly, her lips curved into a smile. It was, he thought, a great smile, the kind that didn’t seem painted on just to make a man feel good. Not that there was anything wrong with a woman doing whatever it took to make a man feel good, it was only that honest smiles were rare.
“I can see that,” she said somberly, “you and a lady named Mrs. Campbell.”
“Hey,” he said, trying to sound as if she’d injured his pride, “it takes special talent to turn a can of soup into five stars in the Michelin Guide.”
She laughed. “Tell me about it. I do a lot of that kind of gourmet cooking, too.”
“Ah.”
“Ah, indeed.”
He looked at her, then away. “I take it Jack doesn’t do kitchen duty?”
“Jack?”
“The guy. The one you were with.”
Her smile faded. “Oh. That Jack.”
“Is there another?”
“No. I mean…” She frowned, found a breadcrumb on the counter and toyed with it. “For a little while there, I forgot.”
“About Jack?”
Her head came up. “What’s with the Jack thing? Why would I think about him?”
“Because he’s your lover,” Jesse said, his voice gone hard.
“My lover? Jack?” Her tone was incredulous.
“What is he, then?”
“My professor. Well, he isn’t a full professor, but I’m working on my thesis with him.”