Homecoming Hero. Renee Ryan

solely on her upcoming mission work for the Lord? Especially here. Now.

      J.T. rescued her by choosing that moment to address the room.

      Hailey leaned forward, determined to pay avid attention to whatever her friend had to say.

      Wolf started to speak again. She shushed him.

      “Did you just shush me?”

      “Yes,” she hissed.

      He chuckled softly.

      J.T. thanked the Mulligans for their presentation, and then added, “Our guests will be available for the next hour to answer any of your informal questions. But before we break away, I want to let you know about a class I’m thinking about offering.”

      J.T. made eye contact with Wolf.

      Wolf nodded in response.

      “What was that about?” Hailey asked.

      Wolf shushed her.

      Well. Nervy. The man had some kind of nerve.

      “It’s been brought to my attention,” J.T. continued, “that the church might want to offer a six-week training course in basic survival skills to anyone going on a mission trip.”

      An excited buzz rose in the room.

      “Show of hands. Any interest in something like that?”

      Dozens of arms shot into the air.

      “Excellent. Look for an e-mail in the coming days,” J.T. said before dismissing the group for a short break until the next missionaries took the stage.

      Something felt off about what had just happened. Hailey blinked at Wolf. He smirked back.

      “Wait a minute.” She looked hard at Wolf, turned her gaze to J.T. then swiveled back to Wolf again. “Are you teaching the new classes?” Her heart clunked against her ribs at the thought.

      “Maybe.” He grinned. “Okay, yes.”

      “Because…”

      “It’s a good idea?”

      She narrowed her eyes. “Why do I think your involvement in this is anything but simple and straightforward?”

      “Because you have a suspicious mind?”

      “Not before I met you,” she muttered.

      Chuckling again, he rose and offered her his hand.

      She paused, but then realized she was being rude. She accepted his assistance with her trademark graciousness.

      When their palms pressed tightly together, a quick spark of…of…something skidded up her spine. Flustered, she pulled her hand free. “Let’s, uh, let’s go…go meet the Mulligans.”

      Had she just stuttered? Really?

      “Sorry, Hail.” He looked down at his watch, swayed as he did so. “Your two hours were up ten minutes ago. I’m gone.” He turned on his heel, making a beeline for the exit.

      She followed him into the hallway. “You’re walking away? Just like that? What about our agreement? Isn’t it my turn to listen to you?”

      “I’d love to stay.” He tunneled an unsteady hand through his hair. “But it’s been a long journey home. At the moment I don’t have much talk left in me.”

      Of course. Wolf had only just arrived in Savannah. Today. “You must be exhausted.”

      “You have no idea.”

      She should insist he leave and get some sleep, right now, but she couldn’t let him go with so much unsettled between them. “Let’s have dinner together Friday night.”

      “Are you asking me out?” He looked surprised, but not altogether unhappy at the prospect. “No.” Was she? “Okay, yes. I want to talk about—” she lowered her eyes “—Clay.” Which was true, just not the complete truth.

      There was something else going on between her and this bold warrior, something that had nothing to do with her brother. Something that was distinctly theirs. But she didn’t know how to voice any of that.

      It was probably best not to try.

      “Please, Wolf, I want to know more about my brother’s life in Iraq.” She sighed. “You’re my only connection to him now. You…” Her words trailed off.

      He touched her cheek softly. “All right, Hailey. Friday night works for me. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

      She instantly remembered the motorcycle he’d roared in on. “No.” She took a calming breath. “I mean. I, uh, I’ll cook.”

      Which could end up being far worse. She was a notoriously bad cook. B-A-D. Bad.

      Wolf didn’t need to know that, though. She had three days to pick up a few basic culinary skills.

      If she failed? Well, there was always takeout.