One weekend five years ago gave her no right to feel jealous.
So why was she standing here with the cookies he’d forgotten in her hand feeling the need to close the door on that part of her life? Had she asked him to move in with her because she had some maniac blowing up things in her life?
Maybe the whole move-in thing had been some spontaneous goof-up that he already regretted now that the Lauren person had called.
Nola rapped her knuckles on the door, drawing his attention away from the phone and to her. “Did you mean it when you said you were going to move in with me?”
“I never make promises I can’t keep.” His thumb moved back and forth over the small silver phone.
“Never?” She inched into the room, unable to help noticing how stark it looked for a place he must have lived in for months. Whenever she’d spent even a week in the hospital, she’d brought pictures and a water fountain from home along with her helmet to serve as motivation to recover her health and her life. “It must be tough carrying around that much perfection.”
He crossed his feet at the ankles, lounging in bed, a look she remembered as well as the errant twinkle sparking to life in his eyes. “When you have a mouth this big, you have to be right.”
Laughter bubbled from her in a surprising burst.
She smiled along with him. How could she not? And what a time to realize she hadn’t smiled this much in… She couldn’t recall how long. “That ego must be mighty heavy to tote around, too.”
“You’ve spent enough time in the military to know it’s important to be able to make decisions quickly in the field. Once committed to the plan of action, see it through.”
Except she wondered if he could still be in the military with the injury to his legs. That would have to chew at him. Attitude was so important to recovery. She wondered if she would have even made it without the hope of regaining her place in the cockpit again.
Imagining his pain stole the smile from her face. She set the cookies on his bedside table. What a pitiful offering to someone who’d lost so much.
He popped the lid off and pulled one out, waving for her to have a seat in the leather recliner beside the industrial hospital roller table. “Have you had any more thoughts on who would want to blow you up beyond that mystery stranger?”
She sat, because then he would have an excuse to stay right where he was, all comfy on his bed, not because she wanted to stick around longer. Hah. Liar. “I lead a pretty benign life. The only people who want to blow me up are enemies overseas and it’s not a personal thing, ya know?”
“Sure.” He couldn’t stop from asking, “You’re absolutely certain your ex-husband’s not the stalker type?”
“The last thing my ex wants is to lay eyes on me again. Peter’s happily married with a pretty new wife living in Georgia. And yes, that stung for three frozen margaritas, a hangover and a week beyond that before I decided to move on.” She took a deep breath. “He has two baby girls and another kid on the way.”
“That bites.”
She jolted. She hadn’t expected sympathy. “Yeah. Far worse than losing the scumbag.”
“My mom still seems to think I want updates on my ex’s dating life.”
“God save us from helpful relatives.” Was that plural ex wives? Or just one? She was tempted to ask but that would put them on a more intimate footing before moving in together.
Not wise.
He toasted her with a cookie, chewing down two before he spoke again. “Who knew you were here?”
She bristled. “Are you insinuating I didn’t tell the police everything?”
“God, you’re a prickly thing. I was just wondering if you held back. Sometimes there are things we think sound silly or unimportant.”
Her stiff spine eased. “You’re trying to help and I should be grateful. This whole thing just has me wound tight. I’m used to worrying on the job, but damn it, I treasured the safe haven of home to recharge between missions and now this stalker has encroached on that.”
“Burnout bites, too, doesn’t it?”
Burnout? He had his wires crossed there, but she wasn’t going to argue with the man. Better to change the subject. “I’m going to say this one last time. The second I asked you to move in, I regretted it. These are my problems and I won’t be able to live with myself if something happens to you because of me.”
“Well, like I said before, seems as if we’re stuck with each other. So if you don’t mind a stubborn, bum leg bodyguard, I’m ready to sign on for the job. God knows I’d like to get out of this place and the last thing I want is one of the prison warden nurses watching over me 24-7.”
“So you think I’m a pushover?”
“Hmm. I guess I don’t really know you, do I?”