“No way.” Jules laughed.
“It’s true. We’d been telling him for weeks that something was off. She would ask him for specific pictures all the time. Posing shirtless with his gun or wearing his boxers and boots. Weird shit like that.”
“Well, that wouldn’t be weird if they were really for her. Selling them is what makes it weird.”
“You don’t think asking for a picture of a guy in his boxers and boots is a little strange?”
“Not if she was really into him. I wouldn’t want my boyfriend’s pictures on other girls’ walls, especially in his boxers and boots. But if he was away for months on end, I’d like them on mine.” Especially if he was you. “I’d probably blow them up to poster size.”
He shook his head, laughing. “The things you say.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” He scrubbed a hand down his face, schooling his expression. “I’ve been trying so hard not to think about what I can’t have, I haven’t thought about the good times in forever. Thanks for that. It feels good.”
“Do you ever talk to the guys you worked with?”
“Yeah, sometimes. My old boss, Titus, calls to consult with me every few weeks to talk out scenarios and get my opinion. I’m sure he’s just doing it because he knows how hard of a time I’ve had trying to leave it all behind, but those calls have kept me going.”
“I bet you’re wrong. He’s probably calling because you’re good at what you did and he trusts your judgment.”
“He does, but I’m pretty sure he’s just being a good guy.”
“It’s no wonder you miss the guys you worked with so much and want to get back there. You really do talk about them like they’re family. I bet they miss you, too. Hey, maybe you should get posters made of them.”
They both laughed.
“But seriously, Big G,” she said, earning a sexy smirk as he threw out the pizza box. “It sounds like you were as close to them as you are with Brant and the rest of your friends here.”
“I was, but I’ve got a different type of relationship with my buddies from Darkbird.”
“Better?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is that I fit there. I felt like I belonged, and I had a meaningful job, a purpose.” He walked back to the table and said, “A man without a purpose is hardly a man at all.”
“I’m not sure what you see when you look in the mirror, but trust me, you are all man.” Oh boy. She didn’t mean to sound so I-want-to-lick-you-all-over.
His dark eyes hit hers so intensely, her entire body clenched. Sexual tension crackled in the air with an underlying hum of restraint, and for a second she forgot how to breathe. Her nerves went haywire watching his jaw clench, the muscles in his arms flex. Why was he holding back? What were they talking about? Her mind scrambled back to the last thing he’d said. Purpose, that was it.
“You belong here, too, and you’re not a man without a purpose. You’re just in a transitional stage, finding your new purpose after a life-altering mission. But you should definitely look into going back.”
His eyes narrowed. “I told you it’s not an option.”
“Maybe you just haven’t looked in all the right places.”
“Trust me. I’ve looked.” He handed her the candles, his jaw tight.
“I got the candles for you. Everyone needs candles in their house.”
“Pix,” he said with a sigh. “You should take them with you.”
She took the candles and put them on the counter. She was not taking back his gift. Why did he want her to? Was he trying to get rid of her? “I got all this stuff for you, to brighten your place up a little.”
“Like the doormat?” He cocked a brow, playfully.
“Whoever got you that thing is clearly brilliant. You can’t help but smile when you see it.”
He laughed, and relief swept through her. She’d obviously hit a nerve before, but that jagged edge was softening.
She folded the tablecloth and put it on the counter with the candles, and he put the table back to its spot beside the couch. When she turned around, that hot, hungry stare was locked on her again. Her insides ignited. She ached to close the short distance between them and press her lips to his, to feel him take her in his arms and take control. If only there were a cold breeze like last night at the Bistro so she had an excuse to get closer. But with Grant standing just a few feet away, there was no chance of that. The man was one giant heat wave, and he was still watching her, making her heart hammer against her chest and her body beg for his touch.
She fidgeted with the cuffs of her sweater. Why wasn’t he making a move? Shouldn’t he close the distance between them? Try to kiss her? Understanding dawned on her, accompanied by a sinking feeling in her stomach. Maybe he had been trying to get rid of her a few minutes ago, and she was standing here like a fool, practically drooling over him. Could she have been so wrong?
Why couldn’t she have more experience reading men?
Now more nervous than ever, and hoping she was wrong, she said, “Okay, well, I guess I should be going and get out of your hair.” Please ask me to stay. She headed for the door, her heart beating so fast her head was spinning. He followed her, and despite her worries, she couldn’t help but hope for a good-night kiss.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
His low, deep voice gave her goose bumps. “Yes,” she said breathily, readying for a kiss as she turned around. Her hopes plummeted at the sight of him holding up her bag and reaching for her jacket.
“You’ll be a little cold without this.” He held up her jacket.
Mortified, she fumbled over her words as he helped her put on her jacket. “Oh, right. Um…Where’s my head?” Thinking about kissing you. I’m such an idiot!
“Thanks for hanging out, Pix. I’ll walk you down to your Jeep.”
Hanging out. Of course he was just being nice. “You don’t have to. It’s Silver Island, not New York City.”
Those muscles in his jaw tensed again, and he pushed open the door and put a hand on her back, guiding her onto the porch. “Let’s go.” It was a command, not a suggestion.
“Don’t you need a jacket?” she snapped.
“No. I’m hot.”
“That you are.” Her eyes flew open. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “I mean…Oh, forget it! You’re hot, okay? There, I said it. God, I’m so bad at this.”
He laughed. “You’re not bad at anything, and you’re pretty hot yourself, Pix.”
A thrill skittered through her. Was he just being nice? He kept his hand on her lower back as they walked down to the bottom of the driveway. Maybe she hadn’t read him wrong after all.
He opened the Jeep door for her and said, “Why are you wasting your time with me, Jules? A gorgeous girl like you probably has tons of guys to eat dinner with.”
“I like my dinner company just fine, thank you. Didn’t you have a good time tonight?”
She tossed her bag into the Jeep and grabbed the leather jacket he’d lent her the other night.
He took it and leaned one hand on the door, the other on the roof, trapping her in the space between. “I had a hell of a good time. That’s the problem.”