way.
“Clients?” he asked as he sat the chips and salsa on the table.
“I’m an interior designer. I have my own firm, but I work with architectural and construction companies around Corpus Christi and South Texas to design spaces from the ground up.”
He didn’t know anything about design, but he’d helped out at his uncle’s construction company every summer in North Carolina. His family had moved a lot over the years, but the summers at his uncle’s were something Brody looked forward to when school was out. Even though it was hard going, he’d enjoyed being a part of building homes, or at other times doing smaller remodeling jobs. From the look of her house, she had a hard road ahead of her.
“I can guess what you’re thinking.” She laughed. “I’m insane. You aren’t wrong.”
He laughed, too.
She glanced at the table. “I forgot the taco shells and sangria. Or would you rather have beer?”
“I’m good with water.” Alcohol made the headaches worse and the headaches led to nightmares of his men screaming, waking him up in the early morning hours. The other night he’d left the ceiling fan on and he’d freaked out for a few seconds, imagining the blades from the Viper helicopter coming at him. Once he’d realized what was going on, he sent his fist through the bedroom wall.
Another patch job to add to his list of things to fix around the rental.
Most of the older homes in the neighborhood were stately and needed a lot of upkeep. His rental wasn’t as big as Mari’s, but it was just as old. Most of her Victorian had been remodeled, he noticed.
She frowned. “Oh, are you an, um— Sorry.”
“No, I don’t have a drinking problem. I can drink. But I want to lay off for a while. Been getting headaches and alcohol only seems to fuel them.” Why was he telling her that? It would lead to more questions.
“Got it. Were you injured? Uh, I don’t want to pry.” Yep. More questions.
“Yes.” He couldn’t tell her. Couldn’t talk to anyone about it. “My last tour we hit a bad patch.” That was putting it mildly. But Brody refused to think about that flight.
She smiled and then touched his arm. It was a kind gesture. “Oh. Sorry I brought it up. Okay. Be right back.”
He wished she’d just tell him what it was that she wanted to talk about. Her proposal. And he really hoped it wasn’t to do with sex, although that’s pretty much all he’d thought about for the last hour. He didn’t think he’d be able to tell her no, but it was the wrong choice for him right now.
“That’s a lot to carry, I’ll help.”
“No problem. I got it. If you don’t mind, maybe you could get the fire going?” She handed him a lighter from her pocket. “The temperature’s good, but as the sun goes down it will get pretty cool out here.”
“Sure.” He should have suggested that they eat at his house, but he was worried about offending her. More than ever he was curious about whatever proposal she had. Strange that she’d invite him for a meal when she didn’t have a proper kitchen. Not that he was one to judge. There were many times he’d used a hot plate, either in the barracks or at a temporary camp.
She emerged from the house with a pitcher of sangria in one hand and in the other hand she held a plate full of taco shells. She’d also tucked a bottle of water under one arm.
He grabbed the pitcher and the water and put them on the table.
“I had to heat the shells up in the microwave. Usually I’d do that in the oven, but I probably won’t have one for another three weeks, and that’s if the cabinetmaker finishes on time. His wife is having twins, so it’s probably a little sad that I say nightly prayers she doesn’t have those babies before he’s done with my job. I’m a horrible person.”
He laughed. “You’re not horrible. You made me tacos.” He meant it. The meat smelled great and he couldn’t wait to dig in.
She handed him a plate with four tacos on it. “My apologies again. Didn’t mean to unload on you. It’s been a day. You were there for part of it, but before that came the plumbing news.”
She took the top off a large tray that had several small bowls. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so there is cheese, tomatoes, jalapeños and some caramelized onions. Oh, and I made guacamole. I left it in the fridge. I’ll get it.”
He loaded up his tacos and waited for her to return.
“This smells delicious. It’s been a long time since someone made me an actual meal.” Mostly he ate at a couple of local restaurants or the chow hall on base. The last six months he’d had to remind himself to eat. Food wasn’t that important to him. The second he let his guard down, the guilt overtook him.
The muscles in his gut tightened.
No. He had to force the visions from his head. His men were gone. They’d never share another meal.
And this wasn’t the time.
Focus. He had a beautiful woman sitting in front of him and she was sweet. He could try not being a hard-ass for an hour. And he was still more than a little curious about her proposition.
“Cooking is one of the things I do to relax,” she said. “I miss it. I haven’t had a kitchen for two months, well, one that had more than a hot plate in it. But enough about that. How did you end up here? What do you do?”
“I’m a helicopter pilot. I fly Vipers and Venoms, and when necessary, Stallions. I’m teaching Boots studying navigation at the base.”
“Boots?”
“New Marines.” His CO’s order that he develop better camaraderie with the new squad flashed through his head. Brody didn’t understand why he had to make friends. His job was to teach these guys how to best do their jobs so they didn’t die. Maybe if he’d prepared his other squad more, they would have survived.
His gut tightened again, the wave of sadness culminating in the pain and tension behind his right eye. Why did it always seem that when you cared about people they ended up dead?
“Brody? Is something wrong with the taco?”
Blinking, he refocused. After taking a bite, the spices a perfect blend with the meat and toppings, he shook his head.
He pointed the taco at her. “You didn’t lie. It’s really good.”
“Told you.” She paused. “You don’t sound like a Texan, in fact you don’t have much of an accent at all.”
“My dad is an entrepreneur and we moved a lot. Sometimes two or three times a year. More after my mom died.”
“Wow.” Mari frowned. “That must have been hard on you as a kid. And I’m so sorry about your mom.”
“It was and I do miss her. But it was a long time ago,” Brody said. He still smiled when he thought of her. His mom had been the one to make all the moving seem like an adventure. “And to be honest, it taught me to travel light.”
“Still, adjusting to new schools and stuff. And always making friends. I can’t even imagine how difficult that must have been.”
It was part of the reason he was such a loner. It was just easier that way. “So, Mari, can I ask why you decided to take on this house? Seems like a lot for one person.”
She grimaced and put her food back on her plate. He’d upset her, but he didn’t know how.
“True. It’s a lot. But I didn’t have a choice really. This started out as a project my ex and I had agreed on together. I bought the house and he would pay for the renovations, which were actually more than the house was worth. By the time we’d be finished though, the house would be worth four times as much. The plan was to flip it and move on to the