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“He’s a military guy. Just give him a direct order.Hey, Soldier! Pucker up!” Bo says in hisFull Metal Jacketdrill sergeant voice. “Now go take those burgers home before they get cold. Best to make use of Harriet’s free meal policy for employees while this place is still open,” he adds with a chuckle.
I’m gladhecan laugh at that idea.
When I open the diner’s door and the warm summer breeze caresses my face, the smell of the saltwater from a couple blocks away takes me right back to that night Dax and I walked together on the beach.
It makes me pick up my pace toward home, so I can enjoy his company again—company I’m getting way too used to.
“Hey, I’m home!” I call when I step in the door. But only silence greets me until I hear an excited bark coming from the backyard.
I step through my kitchen and open my back door.
“Hey!” Dax says as Junie lunges toward me, her favorite toy in her mouth. “We were just playing a little fetch. She’s got some wicked skills.”
“Well, sheisa retriever.” I return his smile and hold up the bag of food that Bo made us. “Bo sent me home with some burgers. Want one?”
“Are you kidding? Love one, thanks.”
I shrug. “You can thank Bo next time you’re in the diner. But the slice of pie I brought home… well, you can thankmefor that.”
“Oh my God. You’re incredible!”
“Hold on, I’ll grab us some plates.” I dart inside and pull a couple plates out of the cabinet. I’m half tempted to grab some candles since this is possibly my only opportunity to have a candlelit dinner with him.
But that would be too obvious.
Then again…
“Oh, wow.” He tucks his chin inward a touch as I step outside, juggling two candles along with our plates. “Candles and everything,” he finishes, his tone slightly awkward.
Crap.
He looks perplexed. He probably thinks I’m about to make a move on him and he’s trying to think of the gentlest way to remind me that he’s not interested.
“They’re citronella,” I blurt as an explanation. “It’s the only way to keep the mosquitoes away.”
Smooth, Millie. So smooth.
“Ah. Smart. How about I grab you something to drink?” he offers.
“No, I’ll get it.”
“No, you’ve been on your feet all day. What would you like?”
“Maybe a glass of that red in the cabinet.”
“Sounds good.” He retreats to the house and returns, handing me a glass of wine.
“Here you go.” He sets down a can for himself.
I eye his soda. “You can have some wine if you’d like. Or I think I even have beer.”
“No, I’m not really much of a drinker.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I’ll have a beer from time to time. But not much.”
I glance guiltily at my wine.
