Page 8 of A Veteran’s Obsession

“Oh.” She looks at me sideways. “You don’t seem the type.”

I raise my eyebrows. “What is the type?”

“Not…” She waves the knife in my general direction, “…this. Not an expensive suit and making chicken carbonara for dinner.”

I chuckle. “You don’t know many ex-military men; we come in all types. Stick around Wild Heart Mountain long enough, and you’ll meet a few. There’s a veterans’ bonfire every Thursday down at Jake’s Retreat. I never miss it.”

She looks at me sideways. “There’s more to you than an expensive suit.”

Her gaze darts to my arms. The sleeves of my shirt are rolled up, and her glance rests on my tattoo. I like her curiosity about me, and I like the heat in her eyes and the smile on her lips.

“There’s more to everyone, if you bother to look deep enough. Don’t you think?”

She tilts her head. “The trouble is that most people don’t bother to look deep enough.”

I turn to look at her, really look at her. Her emerald eyes are wide, and they’ve lost some of the haunted look she came in with, but not all. “Then they miss out on the best parts.”

She smiles slightly and looks down, uneasy under my gaze. I don’t know why it spooks her, but I’m determined to help her relax tonight. And that means letting her see some of my depths.

“I joined the military when I was seventeen, just a kid really.” Those first few years were tough, but also rewarding. “I loved it.”

“Why did you leave?”

“Family reasons.” I add the chicken to the pan, and it hisses as it sears the meat. I’m not ready to talk about my sister and what motivated my career shift. Not yet. “I got into private security when I left. The expensive suits and resort came later.”

She goes back to chopping the carrots, and I watch her out of the corner of my eye.

“How about you, Ruby? What do you do with yourself when you’re not hiding away in the mountains?”

I say it jokingly, but I’m trying to draw her out. I want to know what she’s running from, but I’m afraid if I ask directly she’ll clam up.

“I’m a social media manager.” She huffs out a breath. “And I’m beginning to regret my life choices.”

She’s not a celebrity, which means she’s hiding from something or someone specific.

“Why is that?”

She goes at the carrot with her knife as if it’s the thing that hurt her. “Because the internet is full of assholes.”

The venom in her voice is real. Something online has hurt her.

“You want to tell me about it?” I ask softly.

She wipes her hands on a dishtowel and picks up her wine. “No. I want to forget about it for a while. Can you help me do that?”

There’s pain in her expression, and I want to ease her worries. I also want to find whoever hurt her and hurt them back. But I won’t push her. Not when I’m just starting to gain her trust.

“Of course.” I pour a glass of water to go with her wine. Drinking away problems never helps, but I won’t lecture her.

I can provide distraction with good food and good conversation. And it gives me a chance to get to know the intriguing Ruby better.

6

RUBY

Ipull the robe tight around me, wondering for the hundredth time if this is a good idea. It’s after nine p.m. I’ve spent three hours with Axel. His carbonara was amazing—creamy, rich, and decadent. For dessert, he had a raspberry gateau brought up from the kitchens. I could get used to having a personal pastry chef providing dessert every night.

Sometime during the evening, we moved from the kitchen table to the sofa, where we continued talking over coffee. I stopped drinking alcohol at two glasses of wine, and it’s enough to give me a nice buzz but not so much that I don’t know what I’m doing. Although it might explain why I’m now in nothing but my underwear with a terrycloth robe pulled tight around me.