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Not as good as it had once been, thanks to the IED.
Pushing the thought from his mind, Bodie swallowed and focused on the woman leaned against the island. She looked like a pretty Christmas package with her red and green outfit with its gold buttons, not to mention the gold ribbon tied in her dark hair and hanging near her earlobes.
“You didn’t want me to hear your Christmas cursing?”
Her eyes widened. “I wasn’t. I just—”
“Calm down, Snowflake. I’m just teasing.”
Eyes still wide, she gave him an odd look. “What did you call me?”
“Snowflake.” He hadn’t really thought about his use of the word, but it fit her in ways that went beyond the ornaments that meant so much to her. She was special. Beautiful. One of a kind. Pristine.
But she wasn’t icy. Not cold or even tepid.
Sarah was warm. Everything about her welcoming and kind and heating one’s insides.
“Like hot chocolate.”
That was Sarah. As unique as a snowflake. As warmly welcoming as hot chocolate on a cold winter’s night.
“Snowflake like hot chocolate?”
Her confusion had grown tenfold. No wonder. He was confusing himself.
At the thought of trying to explain himself, Bodie came as close to blushing as he’d done in decades.
“That some wild concoction you’ve come up with?” she teased, her expression full of delight as she regarded him from across the kitchen island.
“Just a nickname.”
“Snowflake like hot chocolate,” she repeated, amusement evident. “That’s certainly different.”
“You want to be called the same thing as everyone else?”
“Sarah is a common name, so something with more pizzazz for a while would be nice.”
“Maybe I’ll just stick with my initial impression.”
“Which was?”
“Drill Sergeant.”
She burst out laughing. “Yeah, right.”
Deciding he’d dilly-dallied long enough, Bodie walked to a cabinet and took out a glass under the guise of getting a drink.
“You know,” she mused, her voice pulling him back to her, “I misjudged you.”
He walked to the faucet and filled his glass half full. “How’s that?”
“When I first met you, I thought you had a smiling problem.”
He did have a smiling problem.
“I was wrong. About that,” she continued. “But I was right about how your smile reaches your eyes and lights up your face. I really like when you smile.”
Her admission had his lips curving upward. Not because he thought his smile reached his eyes and lit up his face, but because not smiling around Sarah seemed impossible. He should have nicknamed her the Smile Whisperer.
