“Rigatoni with sausage and peas, or lasagna? I ordered the whole wheat with veggies for myself, but you’re welcome to part of it.”
“Lasagna.” What happened to the Maggie who craved linguine Alfredo? Or was that only on Saturdays?
She pushed a container in front of him, opened the Chianti and poured him a glass before she claimed the chair across from him. She’d placed a legal pad and pen beside her, but no computer. He had a hunch Miss Maggie was trying to make him comfortable. Like this wasn’t a real interview. Yeah, right. Anything he said over pasta could end up in print.
“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions while we eat?”
Hunter smiled. “Can I ask you something first?”
The corners of her mouth dipped into a frown. “Sure.”
“Why this mission? And don’t tell me it’s because people liked the picture in the paper.”
Maggie set down her fork. “Honestly, that’s part of it. I need to write a bestseller and people are interested in your ride. But why do I think it’s important? A lot of people would argue this is the way modern warfare should be fought.”
“On horseback?”
“With small teams of highly trained soldiers going in to work alongside the good guys living in the area, the ones who have a vested interest in removing the enemy. Smaller teams also mean less loss of life.” She smiled. “And it certainly worked for the SEALs who took on bin Laden. Look at what a small group of men and a dog accomplished.”
And look at how much press they got for it, Hunter thought.
“My turn to ask the questions.” She picked up her pen.
“I have one more,” he said. The storm had kicked into full gear now. Rain pounded against the window and thunder echoed in the nearby hills. “How did you become an expert on the military?”
Maggie raised an eyebrow. “You want my credentials?”
“Something like that.”
“I started studying the armed forces in high school,” she said. “My dad was a Ranger, which you probably knew.”
Hunter nodded. He’d read the briefing materials.
“He didn’t handle the end of his military career well. He drank,” she said flatly. “I was young when he first came home, but I’d already lost my mother. My grandfather passed away shortly after my dad’s return. It was just the two of us, and he seemed like a different person. It never got better.”
“You became the adult. You took care of him. And the house.” He could feel the tension between them heating up. Not the push and pull over who asked the questions. The tension he felt in his body had everything to do with reaching out and touching the woman who was beginning to look a lot more like the Maggie he’d met Saturday night—brazen and bold, and wise beyond her years in so many ways, but innocent in others.
Maggie stared down into her glass. “I did. I paid the bills and hired a housekeeper to buy the groceries and cook. I was probably the only ten-year-old who could balance a checkbook and research treatment options for alcoholics. Not that my father ever agreed to go.”
“That’s a lot for a kid.” He drained his wineglass and helped himself to a refill. He knew all about researching treatment options. It was a hell of a responsibility for someone in grade school. “When did your dad pass away?”
“Two years ago.” She pushed the pasta around in her take-out container with her fork. “His liver finally went.”
Her entire adult life and most of her childhood had been spent caring for her father. Talk about commitment to family. His sacrifices for his sister paled in comparison. “And you started researching the military to better understand your father?”
“And grandfather. He always spoke of the years he served in the army with pride, like it was his greatest accomplishment. There’s something inspiring about the men and women who put their country first, risking their lives in war zones. I think a lot of people look at the military as a unit, and some are quick to criticize our armed forces. They forget about the individuals wearing the uniforms.”
Hunter frowned. “The media pla
ys a role in that. If they’d stop publicizing some stupid mistakes made by one or two soldiers, the army would have a better image.”
“Agreed,” she said. “And I’d like to think my book can help change that image by providing an in-depth look at your heroic mission.”
She didn’t sound intent on revealing his teammate’s mistake. But with Maggie, things weren’t always as they appeared. One look at this house and he’d made assumptions. She had money, yes, but judging from what little he’d learned of her childhood, she was still struggling for stability.
“So you want to write the feel-good military book of the year,” he said.
“I guess you could say that. I prefer to think of it as a positive and honest look at a successful mission.” She pushed her plate aside and reached for her pen. “My turn to ask the questions.”