Page 48 of Finding Elodie
“You’re kidding, right?” Elodie asked with a laugh.
“Nope. Sailor’s honor. The local sheriff knows they make the stuff, but since they give him a bottle every month, he doesn’t give them grief about it.”
Elodie snorted. “Wow, okay.”
“They’re good people,” Mustang said. “But they never had the kind of wanderlust I did growing up. They were content to live in the same place, see the same people, and not go anywhere. I wanted to see the world. They also never understood how I could actually like school. Let’s just say they aren’t exactly the scholarly type. But they’re generous, and they love me to pieces. I just have to go to West Virginia if I want to see them.”
“How’d you get your nickname?” Elodie asked.
“I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” Mustang joked. He never told the story behind his nickname to people unless he knew them really well. He wasn’t sure why, he just didn’t feel comfortable sharing something so personal.
But the fact that he had no reservations telling Elodie was just another way he knew she was different. Special.
“Kidding,” he said before she could respond. “It’s kind of embarrassing, but at the time, I thought I was doing my buddy a favor.”
“Oh, this I gotta hear,” Elodie said.
Mustang was distracted by her licking sugar off her fingers after eating the malasada, but he did his best to stay on track. “I had just graduated from boot camp and was feeling like I was all that and a bag of chips. My nickname at that point was Webb, based on my last name. I was headed toward the barracks at the end of the day, and one of the guys in my unit, a guy who’d been in for a while, asked for my help. I’d bragged earlier that week that I knew how to hot-wire just about any kind of car, and he said he’d lost his keys and wanted my help in hot-wiring his car so he could get home.
“I was feeling pretty good that the guy had asked me for help, considering how low my rank was, so I gladly helped get his Mustang started. But right after, while I was feeling all proud of myself, the military police came racing up and threw me in handcuffs. The guy who’d asked for my help had fled, and it turns out the Mustang belonged to the commander, not the guy in my unit.”
“Oh my God!” Elodie said, her eyes wide. “Did you get in trouble?”
“I thought I was going to end up in the brig for sure, but luckily, after hearing the story, the commander thought it was kind of funny. He declined to press charges and I was let go. But word got out about what happened, and people started calling me Mustang.”
“And did the other guy get in trouble?”
Mustang smirked. “Oh, yeah. The commander made him do extra duty for six months. He was cool with it though; he knew he’d gone too far with the prank, and we actually ended up becoming pretty good friends. When I tried out for the SEALs, we lost touch.”
“That’s hilarious,” Elodie said. “I guessed there had to be some sort of story behind your name, but I figured maybe you raised horses growing up or something.”
“Ha. Nope. So…how’d you become a chef?” Mustang asked.
Her smile slowly dimmed as she stared out at the waves. Mustang instantly regretted his question. He hadn’t wanted to talk about anything that would make her sad or depressed. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s fine,” Elodie said immediately, looking up at him. “My parents always cooked together, and when I got old enough, I joined them. At first I was just doing measuring and chopping, easy stuff like that, but after a time, I got more into it and was trying complicated recipes on my own. I started watching as many cooking shows as I could, and before I knew it, I was obsessed.
“I went to the community college where my parents worked, after high school, and got my business associates degree, but I wasn’t all that interested in going on to get my bachelor’s degree, much to my parents’ chagrin. I headed up to Chicago and went to culinary school. I loved it. I worked in a lot of restaurants after I graduated, and was even a sous chef for a pretty famous chef for a while. But eventually the hours got to me and I wanted a change of pace.”
Mustang could see Elodie’s shoulders slump as she spoke, and he knew whatever change she’d made had somehow led to the problems she was having today. He reached out and slid his hand to the back of her neck.
She looked up at him in surprise.
“Not now,” he said softly. “I want to hear every detail about what happened when you left Chicago, but for now, I want to enjoy the evening on the beach with you. Please don’t think I don’t want to know what’s going on, I do, but I want to get to know you first.”
He saw her swallow hard before she licked her lips and spoke. “Okay.”
“Good.” Mustang couldn’t take his gaze from her lips. He wanted to taste them again. Wanted to nibble on that plump upper lip, and the vision of her taking his cock between those luscious lips sprang into his mind suddenly. He immediately got hard.
Shit, this wasn’t like him. He never thought about sex so soon after meeting a woman. But then again, he’d been thinking about Elodie for months now. Wondering where she was and if she was all right.
“How about a walk?” he blurted, needing to move. If he didn’t, he might pull her onto his lap and do some very indecent things on a public beach.
“I’d like that,” she told him.
Mustang didn’t let go of her for a long moment. He was warring with himself. Part of him wanted to slip his hand under her dress, and another part knew he needed to let go of her to get some of his control back.
“Scott?” she whispered.
