“Are you kidding, man? There are days I’d trade my surfboard for a homemade pie,” he says. “And I’ll probably make it to Tybee that first weekend I’m there. I’m aching to see the ocean. This Pentagon job’s been killing me these past two years. I haven’t had time to go to the ocean even once.”
“The Pentagon bleeds you dry with long shifts,” Mason commiserates.
“Will it be better when you’re in Georgia?” I ask.
“Oh, yeah. The Rangers work you hard. But when you’re home, it’s usually predictable.”
“Not so predictable when you’re deployed though,” Mason reminds him.
“True enough. That’s why I’ll be on that beach on Tybee Island every chance I get this summer while my battalion’s pretty guaranteed to stay stateside.”
“Eating pie,” I remind him, giving him a smile just as my husband groans slightly. “Because it’s really good. Just remember to ask for Millie.”
Okay… maybe I’m pushing this too much.
“Uh, yeah, sure. Millie,” he repeats, looking a touch perplexed at my insistence, which tells me I’m coming on too strong.
Then his eyes brighten as he adds, “Maybe I’ll get lucky, and she’ll adopt me as her honorary grandson so I’ll get lots of Southern home-cooking while I’m down there.”
“Actually, Millie is—” My husband begins as I shoot him a deadly look, silencing him.
Because if he reveals that Millie is barely in her thirties and Dax discovers I’m trying to set him up, I have a feeling their meeting will never happen. Military guys are notorious for not liking set ups.
So I cut in with, “—as sweet as her pie.”
Dax grins, oblivious to my machinations. “Bet I’ll love her.”
I chuckle inwardly. Bet you will.
At least, that’s the way I’d write their story...