Page 49 of In Every Chapter

She had me pegged. I wasn’t. Not in the slightest. Eating MREs in the field during training exercises or backyard BBQs were about as outdoorsy eating as I got. But there was a whimsical air to Paisley that made me think she’d enjoy a frolic. And I couldn’t believe I’d just used the word frolic.

“I promise you won’t get cold.” I didn’t actually intend for us to eat outside. There was a nice little heated indoor gazebo next to the Snake River with a beautiful view.

“What else do you have planned?” Paisley asked when I slid into the truck. The words were light and casual, but an undercurrent of unease threaded her question.

“It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

Silence filled the cab, and she picked at her fingernails for a moment before she tucked her hands under her thighs. “Okay,” she said quietly.

Instead of turning the key and driving away, I shifted to face her. “Hey, if you don’t like surprises—”

“It’s okay!” she said too brightly. Too forced. “I don’t want to ruin anything for you.”

“You’re not ruining anything, love,” I said, surprised the nickname popped out. And from the wide emerald eyes peeking back at me, so was she. No going back now. “I figured we’d have dinner along the river and then head over to Bonneville Point to watch the stars.”

“You . . . you put a lot of thought into this, Marine.”

I casually shrugged, unsure of just what to say. Because I had put thought into this. I wasn’t clueless to the fact that Paisley was my little sister’s best friend, and Juliet would pick Paisley over me in a heartbeat if I hurt her. So I wasn’t messing around. But also . . . this woman had woken something up in me. Something that hadn’t been there before—ever. I’d dated a few women, but nothing had ever fit right. Something was always missing.

And Paisley? She had me questioning everything I wanted in life. Made me want things. Dream again in a way I’d forgotten how to. But she was settled here in Serenity Springs. My current base was in South Carolina. Was I ready to get out of the military? I’d considered it. Even talked about it with my buddy and superior, Gabe Carson, who turned out to be Paisley’s best friend’s older half brother. Small world.

“Are you mad? That I don’t like surprises?” Paisley whispered, pulling me out of my head into the present.

I jerked back. “Mad? Of course not. There’s nothing wrong with not liking surprises.” Just the thought of someone being mad at her because of it or making her feel small set my blood boiling.

“Do you? Like surprises, I mean?” She fidgeted with her thumb ring. A nervous habit I’d picked up on at trivia the other night.

“The good ones.”

Paisley chewed her lip thoughtfully, drawing my attention like a siren once again. “I haven’t had many of those.” Absently, she picked at her thumbnail again before lacing her fingers in her lap. “Sorry, I’m being weird. This is the first date I’ve been on since . . . well, in a really long time.”

Same. I let a slow smile spread across my face. I hadn’t smiled this much in years. “Not weird at all. You’re all good.”

“So you’re not already regretting this?” She worried her lip, uncertainty etched across her face.

Who made this woman feel so small? The need to reassure her flooded me. “Not even a little bit.” I held her gaze steadily. “I like what I see.”

Chapter twenty

Paisley

Satterfield family barbecues were a circus. Add to that the high of the Chargers winning the cup along with Greyson and Cal’s birthday, and the air was electric with energy.

I’d counted no less than a dozen children screaming with glee as they darted through the sprinkler. There was a rousing game of CATAN in the den. A kitchen full of laughter. The Satterfields might live loud, but they loved loud too. It was the last homely house this side of the mountains, a beacon for weary travelers where none were turned away and burdens were left at the door for a while. And hearts were cheered with good food and good fellowship.

Honestly it felt like the homeyness of Rivendell with the noise levels of the Prancing Pony. I doubt anyone here would bat an eye if two hobbits spontaneously started dancing on the picnic table. Oh wait, there were. Except I think they were Brett’s youngest kids.

Compared to the quiet house I’d become used to with Greyson or the sweet nights with Juliet and the girls on video chat, this level of noise was deafening. Probably loud enough for bylaw noise violations, but no one seemed to mind. Maybe the neighbours were used to it?

There were more Satterfields than I remembered. Seven missing years did that to a body. But they were all as huge as I remember—all six kids were six feet and up. Some people just got all the luck in genetics. Guess they grew ’em different in Idaho.

Mama D told me not to worry about bringing a dish, but that didn’t sit right with me. So last night with Greyson’s help, I’d managed a potato salad. Mainly, he kept me from burning the house down. Too bad I hadn’t been as successful with the cookies this morning.

“Hey, looks good!” Shane, the second-oldest Satterfield brother, grinned and snatched the bowl I clutched against my middle. “No more kitchen mishaps?”

My cheeks flushed. “Umm . . .” Did I want to fess up about the burnt cookies to my fire chief brother-in-law? Not really.

But Greyson came to the rescue. He squeezed my shoulder as he slipped past me with an excited Rosie Cotton. “She’s doing great.” And he disappeared to let her out into the vast backyard.