“She raced after the ball alongside her brothers and sisters today,” Mark said, and she heard the defensive note in his voice.
“Because she has a crush on you. She wants to be yours.” And after the way Mark had helped her through the opening reception, the way he’d made her feel in the vet room, Amy wanted to be his, too.
He pressed his thumb into the sweet spot on her foot again, and this time a moan escaped her lips. Oh, God, his foot massage skills were a bonus.
Rule number three. No one in the military...
No exceptions. Maybe for the puppy, but not for her—at least not in the long-term.
“I can’t have a dog,” he said. “Where would she live?”
“It wouldn’t be fair to take the antithesis of a war dog with you when you deploy,” she agreed, only half listening. What he was doing to her feet redefined “foot massage” in her mind. Every touch drew her closer to needing things from him that had nothing to do with caring for sore muscles.
“No,” he said, increasing the pressure. “I think the air force frowns on airmen smuggling pets into war zones.”
“And you can’t just leave her at your home here,” she murmured.
His hand stilled. “I don’t have a home here. Not anymore. Just a storage unit outside of town for my mom’s things, most of which I should probably give away or trash someday soon.”
Amy leaned her head back against the couch as his hands started kneading her feet again. He had no reason to come back to Heart’s Landing again. Was it intentional on his part? she wondered. Did he want to deploy without a single lasting tie? The thought of him flying out on his missions believing there was no reason to come back made her stomach turn.
A low rumble filled the silence. Or maybe it was hunger pains that had her belly doing somersaults.
Mark’s eyes narrowed. “You never ate.”
“One broken plate of cookies was enough. Eloise told me they were too good to waste. And there wasn’t much left when I came back out.”
Mark picked up her feet, set them on the ground and stood. “Put on your shoes. I’m taking you out to dinner.”
Amy slipped her tired feet into her heels. “Where are we going?”
“The Last Stop,” he said, holding out his hand to pull her up off the couch. “I owe Blanche another visit, and you need a deluxe burger with fries. Maybe a milk shake. Sound good?”
Her stomach answered for her with a second low rumble. “I should change first.”
“You look great, Amy.” Mark plucked the key to her truck from the table by the door.
“Let’s go.”
* * *
TEN MINUTES LATER, Mark parked her truck in front of The Last Stop Diner and came around to open her door. Holding his hand, she followed him inside. Blanche beamed at them. Amy knew the diner’s owner and bumped into her in town now and then, but it had been a while. Blanche looked better than she had in years.
“Wow,” Amy said. “I think she is the only part of this place that has changed.”
Mark nodded. “Zumba.”
Amy stifled a laugh as they approached the counter, claiming two empty stools beside the register.
“Evening,” Mark said. “Amy, what would you like?”
“A burger, medium, and fries, please.”
“Blanche, add a milk shake. My treat, Amy.”
Blanche nodded, scribbling the order on her notepad. “What flavor shake, darling?”
“I really don’t need—”