Page 41 of A Hero Comes Home

She frowned and gave him a sideways glance.

“On the sofa. I practically jumped your bones.”

“Please! You weren’t the only one jumping.”

There were a dozen remarks he could have made to that, ranging from raunchy to only slightly inappropriate. He chose to keep them to himself. “It was a mistake. We have issues.”

“Tell me about it.”

He thought about asking her what she meant by that. He knew what he meant, but were they on the same page? Instead, he remarked, “I like your dress.”

“I thought you would.”

Whaat? “My favorite color.”

“I know.”

So, it was deliberate. Or am I reading too much into a simple statement? And do I want her trying to entice me? Entice? Where the hell did that word come from? I’ve been living in a cave too long, apparently. Ha, ha, ha!

Talk about ping-ponging emotions! I am a regular whack, whack, whack job. Really, he had to stop this back-and-forth banter with Sally with its sexual undertones. They did have issues, probably insurmountable ones, and engaging in sex would only complicate them, not solve them.

Although it was an enticing prospect.

He had to ask the big question that had been nagging at him for weeks now. Hell, probably for more than three years. “Do you still have the papers, Sally?”

“What papers?”

“The divorce papers. The ones you told me that you got from a lawyer.”

She stopped midway down the hall to stare at him.

He stopped, too, and stared back at her.

She didn’t back down, like she used to in a stare-off. “You idiot!” she said finally. “There were no papers.”

“But you said . . . I specifically recall, just before I left for my last deployment, you saying that you met with a lawyer and got some divorce papers to look over, and . . .” He let his words trail off.

“Idiot!” she repeated. “I lied. It was intended to be a wake-up call for you.”

He didn’t know if he was angry or happy at her ploy. One thing he did know: he might not have been awake back then, but he sure as hell was now.

Chapter 9

There were many steps on the road back home . . .

Less than twenty-four hours home, and Jake was driving her crazy with his flip-flopping actions. She was trying to be sympathetic because of all he’d been through, but he made it hard. Not that she knew exactly what he’d been through because he clammed up every time she asked even the simplest question, like, “Did the locals help you with food and stuff while you were hiding in the cave?”

Nope. First thing out of his mouth on seeing her for the first time after more than three years had been to mention divorce. Then he’d kissed her into a melted pool of hormone hotness on the sofa. After which he practically ignored her at the barbecue. Then tugged at her heartstrings when he revealed that all the time he’d been missing he’d been under the impression that she’d seen a lawyer and didn’t want him anymore, thus explaining the earlier divorce remark.

Why couldn’t he just say what he was thinking?

And now, ever since they’d returned from the barbecue, he’d gone all silent and brooding. Dark and brooding might be great for a romance novel hero, but not for a real-life hero. After she’d glared at him a time or five for his one-word responses to the kids’ incessant questions, he went out to the garage where he was still prepping his “go-bag,” the backpack that had to be “wheels up” ready on a moment’s notice when a soldier was called to active duty. The go-bag, also known as a grab-and-go or Go-to-Hell bag, included a seventy-two-hour supply of everything from clothing to first aid kits to MREs. Plus weapons and ammo, which was why it was kept in a locked chest under the tool bench.

Like he was going to need a go-bag anytime in the near future! Not with his injuries! Although what did she know? Maybe, with his skill set, limping, vision-impaired soldiers were a prized asset in the field today.

She could accept that his detachment was just the way he was when only she was involved. But the boys were confused and hurt by his actions, as well, and that she couldn’t tolerate. After the barbecue, following quick showers and teeth brushing, they’d finally gotten into their beds, despite their moans that they wanted Daddy to tuck them in tonight.

Yeah, well, Daddy was too busy with nonessential crap out in the garage. Not that she told them that. Instead, she said, “Not tonight, sweeties. Daddy has important business to take care of right now. He’ll be here when you get up in the morning.”