“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” he says, his voice closer now. “I miss them.”
I turn to find him dressed in his navy-blue pants, light blue shirt and navy-blue tie. The shirt has navy-blue epaulets and pockets, with a State Trooper patch on the arm and a gold, metal badge over his heart. He looks so masculine, so handsome, my own heart skips a beat.
“There’s something about a man in uniform,” I say, winking at him.
He grins at me from where he’s leaning against the kitchen wall. “Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah,” I say, feeling a flutter in my belly as I turn back to the sandwiches. “You know? I don’t think you were wearing your uniform when I met you last week. When you gave me a ride.” I cough, my cheeks coloring. There have been so many rides since then. “In your car.”
“Probably had a black golf shirt on. That’s what I wear most days at the academy. For training. Can I give you a hand with anything?”
“Nope. I’m almost done,” I say. “So, what kind of training do you do?”
“I’m a staff instructor at the Trooper Academy,” he says, taking a seat at my two-person table to wait for lunch.
“A teacher?”
“Yep. Mostly driving and emergency vehicle operation. Some weapon safety. Fitness too.”
I put two glasses, a container of lemonade and two plates with sandwiches on the table, then sit down across from him. “Why are you all dressed up today?”
“Today’s the last day of school,” he tells me, picking up his sandwich. “I have a fifth grader graduating to middle school and an eighth grader graduating to the high school. Need to look my best.”
“Do they have ceremonies for that?”
“Sure do. I’m headed to one right after this, and the other right after that.”
I know he’s a dad, of course, but it’s the first time he’s mentioned his kids to me. “You have three kids, right?”
“Uh-huh.” He reaches for the lemonade and pours half a glass for each of us. “Chad is thirteen, Gillian is eleven and Meghan is five.”
“Five,” I say, instantly thinking of the mother these children have lost. “She’s just a baby.”
“Don’t ever let her hear you say that,” he warns me with a chuckle. His expression quickly sobers. “It’s been tough for them.”
“I bet,” I say, taking another bite of my sandwich.
It’s strange to be sitting here in my rental kitchen with this man I barely know, and yet it’s also surprisingly comfortable. And somehow, he looks right at home eating a no-frills sandwich at my tiny kitchen table.
Bryce didn’t like eating meals at home. He preferred going out for meals. Home for him was mostly just a place to shower and sleep, which left me alone there much of the time. I’d like a real home with someone, I think. A warm and cozy place where people can eat PB & Js at the kitchen table. I want that with my next someone.
“How’s your article coming?” asks Luke.
“Pretty good. The Fortress of the Bear is amazing. I’ve been there three times now. And I have a meeting with someone at Fish & Game this afternoon.”
“Huh.” He eyes me for a second, a flicker of distrust disturbing the handsome openness of his features before he finishes his juice and clears his throat. “I’d like to see you again.”
My body reacts to this news with a lovely tremor that tells me I could go several more rounds with him if he didn’t have someplace to be this afternoon.
“I’d like that too.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
“Same time?”