Page 21 of The Enforcers: NOAH

“Lie. That’s against the rules. Try again.”

He was right. She was not feeling at all virginal, and the memory of the taut zipper and the big package was flashing before her eyes.

Time to get back to scaring him.

“I love sentimental chick flicks and I cry at the mushy parts. In public.”

“I’ll bring the tissues.”

“I like onion on my hamburgers.”

“Me too.”

“Think again about the onion breath. Sooo sexy.”

“Two words: breath mints.”

She inhaled slowly.

“I’ve spent time in a psychiatric facility.” That would do it.

The silence stretched for a few seconds, and then he slid his elbows across the table and put his head down, resting his chin on his forearms.

“Me too,” he said softly.

Seriously? He looked like a kid just out of college, with the kind of cocky air that said nothing bad had ever happened to him.

“Really?” she asked. “Truth only.”

He nodded, not looking at her. “Stuff that happened while I was…in the service,” he said.

Military. PTSD. Just went to show you could never tell from the surface what somebody had been through. She should know that better than anyone.

He raised his eyes to hers. “You?” he asked.

“Trauma,” she said. She toyed with her napkin. “The first time.”

His voice was gentle. “And then?”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I was fine for a while, and then…flashbacks, I guess you’d call it.” He nodded. “It lasted for two months,” she said. “And my ex came and took my son away.”

He winced, raising his head and leaning forward on his elbows. “That sucks. I’m sorry.”

She nodded. “I miss him so much,” she said. “I only get to see him twice a week.”

He reached out and touched her hand. The timer on the phone went off, but he ignored it. He was looking into her eyes, his gaze warm with sympathy. Something uncurled inside her chest. His touch made her feel…safe. Like everything would be okay.

“Scared yet?” she asked, her voice coming out in a whisper.

He gave a small smile. “A little.” He didn’t move. “How’s Friday for dinner?”

He still wanted to take her out.

“I can’t do Friday,” she said, with real regret. “It’s one of my nights with Brock.”

That was that. He had an out, and he’d take it.

“Well, meeting him would be awesome,” he said, “but I don’t want to mess with your time together. How about Saturday?”