Before she found an excuse to delay any longer, she quickly opened the e-mail and smiled at the short paragraph. He certainly wasn’t one to waste words.
Sara,
Yes, I am single and my dog’s name is Trouble. After being surrounded by our uniforms for many years, I don’t think I share your views on them suiting everyone equally well. I would agree that touching your nose with your tongue isn’t necessarily a feature. And I’ve never given any thought as to what mine would be.
Thanks,
Gabe
She did a quick check and saw he’d sent it only a few hours after hers. That had to mean something, right? Maybe he enjoys talking to me as much as I enjoy his letters. Chloe would be horrified, but she hit the Reply button instead of waiting until later.
Gabe:
Why did you name your dog Trouble? There must be a story there. Don’t leave me hanging here. As for the uniforms, you’re a guy so I think I can safely assume that although you might be more of an expert on females, I am clearly in a better position to judge the males. OK, OK, I realize the fact that I haven’t had a date since electricity was invented might call my credentials into question, but I still believe I’m a more thorough judge than you are. Now you’re over there thinking I sound like the world’s biggest pervert, aren’t you? Spinster Sara spends her days cruising military bases, and her nights scouring the Internet for a little camo eye-candy. That’s my kink, Randall. Run, soldier, run! Since I have no clue as to what you look like, I can’t pick a favorite feature for you, but if we’re going by talent, like my tongue to the nose, yours would clearly be your chattiness.
Back to you,
Sara
She couldn’t help laughing at what she’d written. “That’s my kink”? There was no way she could send that. He really would think she was a nut. Her finger was hovering over the Cancel button when Kaylee barreled into the table. Sara’s drink went crashing to the floor, and tea seemed to cover everything around her. “I’m sorry, Sarie,” Kaylee cried out as she looked down at the carnage she’d accidentally caused.
“It’s fine, sweetie,” Sara assured her. “Could you grab some extra napkins while I pick everything up?” Sara turned to lay her cell phone on the table and she noticed the screen. Message Sent. “Oh crap,” she whispered. Somehow in the commotion she’d hit the button. The downside of using a phone for correspondence was that the small screen size left little space between selections. She’d done it a few times before, but it had never been a big deal. Usually she ended up sending a half-finished e-mail and had to explain it. But how could she tell Gabe, “Sorry, that whole pervert part was a joke. You weren’t supposed to see it.”
Sara felt something tugging on her shirt, and she glanced over to see Kaylee staring up at her. “I’ll clean it up, Sarie, don’t cry.” She realized she was still standing where the little girl had left her, probably looking as upset as she felt. But the sinking feeling in her gut had nothing to do with their sticky surroundings. She already worried each time that she’d never hear from Gabe again, but this time she was almost certain of it. Unless he wants your 900 number.
“Aunt Sara’s tummy isn’t feeling too well, honey,” she murmured as she patted Kaylee’s back gently. “How about using your strong muscles to help me and we’ll be done in no time.” And she was right—that particular mess was taken care of and forgotten moments later. Unfortunately, the one she’d made with her wayward finger would probably haunt her for far longer. Scouring the Internet for a little camo eye-candy? What the hell, Sara?
Chapter Four
It was after nine in the evening, but Gabe was in no hurry to go back to his room. Why bother? His office was far less claustrophobic, and the Wi-Fi was definitely better. Some nights he’d stay there and watch a movie or television show until after the crowds using the dorm showers had diminished. Right now, they’d be herded in the tight space like cattle, and that was just a little too much closeness with his troops. He tried to ignore the small tingle he felt as he propped his feet on his desk and casually opened his e-mail folder. He’d intentionally avoided checking it for the last few hours, trying to pretend he wasn’t as anxious as a teenage boy with his first crush. It’s deployment boredom—everyone has it. Even as he made excuses, he couldn’t mistake the jump of his pulse as he saw her name in his unread messages. He pondered waiting a while longer to open it, but that was carrying it a bit too far. After all, if a tree falls in a forest and no one sees it, did it happen? Really, man? Even his subconscious was shaking its head at that rationale. A few keyboard taps later and he was anxiously scanning her letter.
“Ookkkaayy,” he muttered to himself. Her choice of words got more interesting every time. He had to admit, his eyes had locked on “kink” right away. He knew she was joking around. Although there were some big military bases in North Carolina, he couldn’t see her trying to pick up men outside Fort Bragg. She didn’t seem the type. What she was to him was a breath of fresh air. She was hilarious, quirky, and damned entertaining. He liked that she didn’t appear to filter her replies to him. Hell, for all I know, this is the heavily edited version. He laughed aloud at that thought. Come to think of it, he smiled or laughed every single time he heard from her. Bet she can’t say the same about your zero personality responses. She’s definitely getting the short end of the stick. He was beyond curious about her. Now, more than ever, he’d love to know what she looked like. Not to judge her appearance, but simply to put a face with the words and sense of humor that he enjoyed so much. He could send her a picture of himself and possibly prompt her into sending him one in return, but that seemed kind of like a pickup attempt. Dear Sara: I like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain, how about you? She’d probably enjoy that line. Although corny, it was less robotic than his usual prose. He flexed his fingers, ready to send back another masterpiece. Or in his case a disaster-piece. He knew he’d come across as cooler if he waited until the morning before responding, but that would delay getting another e-mail from her. And dammit, he couldn’t bring himself to go to bed without making certain that was a possibility. Pathetic, Gabe, really sad.
Sara:
I found my dog at a rest area.
That’s what you’re leading with, Randall? She mentions kink and camo eye-candy, and you lead with how you met Trouble. He was certain Sara wanted to know about how this dog decided Gabe would be his owner and he hadn’t really had a say in it. Still, she’d asked, so he answered. As he wrote, he pondered when the last time was that he simply chatted with someone. A drink at a bar stateside really didn’t count, did it? Once Gabe had tapped out his six or so lines, and a few eye rolls thrown in for good measure, he hit Send and got off-line.
Shit. He’d tried to seem more human this time, but he wasn’t sure how successful he’d been. With his family, he could just ask questions about relatives, but with a stranger, it was much harder. There was no common ground to discuss or shared acquaintances. She was a civilian, so that automatically excluded her from a big chunk of his usual conversations. Plus, there wasn’t much he could elaborate on concerning his current mission. Most of it was classified, which could be a hard point to get across at times.