“I can live without stars.” Daniel rooted around in a bag until he came up with half a loaf of Duncan’s fancy bread. “We can have toast with the soup or maybe one of those sandwich things you made last night.”
“Is that a hint?” My chest felt weirdly warm and gushy.
“Ha.” He laughed before giving me a sheepish smile. “Maybe. It was tasty.”
“Okay. Soup and sandwiches it is.” If his happiness was as easy as grilled cheese, I was all for it. I found two bowls, a pot, and a skillet. “No microwave, but that’s okay. I had my fill of them growing up. Never even knew how the stove worked until I was a teen.”
“Me either, but I wasn’t even allowed to use the microwave. That was for the help.”
“The help.” I set the pot on the stove with a clatter. Nice reminder that for all Daniel and I had in common, we were light-years apart in social status. “We didn’t have much of that.”
“I’m sorry.” Daniel’s voice was quiet, some of his enthusiasm dimmed. “Will you show me how to make a sandwich without burning the place down?”
“That’s a tall order.” I forced myself to be more upbeat. It wasn’t Daniel’s fault that he’d been born with a silver spoon. I set the skillet on a burner and proceeded to show Daniel all my grilled-cheese tricks, and I even let him flip the second one. He took direction so well that I almost forgot we were here to keep him safe. Cooking together made me feel more alive, the same energy surge of an hour in the weight room or the final mile of a long hike packing equipment in.
“I should have taken notes.” He patted his pants pocket as I plated the golden sandwiches. “Wait. No phone. Can’t believe I forgot again.”
“There’s a satellite Wi-Fi thing. I’ll hook it up after we eat, and you can play with my phone if you’re having withdrawals, but I can’t let you log in to any accounts. Police need it to look like you’re in LA.”
“It’s okay.” He moved so I could serve up the soup. “The digital detox is probably good for me.”
“That’s the right attitude. Hell, where were you for our last crop of recruits? Positive attitudes are highly underrated.”
“It’s a survival skill.” His tone was surprisingly solemn. “I’m not big and scary like you and Harley. I’m not packing heat. Agreeable is sometimes all I have.”
“Oh.” I had murderous impulses toward any fucker who had ever made him feel like he had no choice but to be pleasant. “No faking it with me. Okay? I’m not handing out gold stars for niceness. You don’t like something, you say so.”
“I like this.” He carried the bowls to the outside table, pausing so I could brush it off first. “Obviously, I don’t like being stalked. But I hated darn near everything about acting by the end of the second season of my first show. If I hadn’t found a way to find bright spots amid the suckitude, I wouldn’t have made it.”
“You’re pretty amazing,” I said gruffly. What I really meant was, thank goodness you’re still here, sunny attitude and all. God, he could have turned out so many other ways. Scary. And remarkable. He didn’t have the most street smarts or military-type skills, but he had more grit than many of the people I’d served with.
“Not as amazing as your sandwiches,” he tossed back as we took seats outside with a streaky pink sky and gentle breeze surrounding us. “Or this view.”
“You’re right. It is pretty.” I looked right at him as I said it, and he blushed.
“That bathtub is pretty wild.” He gestured toward the little garden nearby. The outside of the tub was weathered and scarred, but the inside was fairly pristine, and someone had placed a polished board across it, sort of a little table or shelf. “I’m trying hard not to picture Harley using it.”
“Thanks for that image. Now I am too.”
“Seriously, how does that even work?” He wrinkled his nose. “Cold bath?”
“There’s a hose connected to the solar tank.” I pointed to a short line connecting back to the house. “But you could also fill it early in the day and let the sun do its work. Probably not going to get a boiling hot soak, but I bet it’s not bad, especially after working out in the sun or hiking.”
“Huh. I don’t think I’m taking up roofing or wood chopping, but I might have to try it at least once.” He gave me a game smile, and damn it, now I was back to picturing him, not Harley, in the tub.
“I’ll be sure to give you privacy.” I carefully studied my sandwich instead of his face.
“You don’t have to.” His tone was flirty enough that I got his meaning even without glancing up at his expression.