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“I’m just a vet,” she protested.
He shook his head, refusing to let her dismiss herself so easily. Not when he was so determined to make her see how amazing she was. He slid a hand under her chin and tilted her face up to his. “You are a hero.”
Her lips parted in surprise, and she stared up at him with wide brown eyes that made his chest tighten. But then she blinked, and her expression closed down. She was determined to shut him out.
She pulled away from him and lifted her chin, her spine straightening. “We should go.”
He wanted to make her see the truth. He wanted to kiss the hell out of her and then take her home—to his home—where he’d kiss her some more. She deserved all his kisses and anything else she wanted, as far as he was concerned.
But he stepped back. He would let her have space until she was comfortable with him again.
He followed her to the elevator and pushed the button for the parking garage. Silence stretched between them, and he was ready to do something—anything—to break it, but he didn’t want to push the issue again.
The elevator doors slid open, and the scent of oil, dust, and concrete flooded in. Fluorescent bulbs flickered to life on the ceiling, revealing a large, mostly empty garage with a few cars parked at random intervals. He led her to his Jeep and suddenly, desperately wished he’d taken the time to clean it. He and Spirit had practically been living out of it while attending the K9 explosives detection training course, and the interior looked like it. He quickly stuffed several empty fast food bags into the backseat and threw Spirit’s favorite blanket over them.
At least the car was relatively dirt-free, with only one muddy paw print on the dashboard.
Sasha eyed him. “Are you sure you have room in here for me?”
He stepped back, holding the door open for her. “Positive.”
She smoothed her hands down the skirt of her dress, then looked up at him with a pleasant smile that seemed to be pasted on her face. Like he was a stranger she had to make small talk with and not the man who fucked her until she screamed his name mere hours ago. He shut the door and circled the hood to the driver’s side. When he slid in, Sasha still had that fake, customer service smile in place.
“I’d love to hear about the explosives training. I bet it was fascinating. I’ve always wanted to do search and rescue with Anna, but my schedule doesn’t allow for it.”
He didn’t want to talk about his job when it felt like it was barely one conversational step above talking about the weather—just something inane to fill the silence. She was clearly shutting him out. He’d wanted to take care of her tonight. He’d wanted to give her pleasure and protect her from the ugliness of his life. He’d wanted to make her feel special.
He shrugged. “It was training.”
She glanced over at him as he started the engine. “That’s it?”
“After spending your entire adult life in the military, one training’s very much like the rest.” Though, he had to admit, having Spirit by his side made it a more pleasant experience than most of the training he endured as a Marine.
“You did explosives in the military, too, right?”
When he raised a brow at her, she glanced down at picked at the hem of the shirt. “I heard Zak and Anna talking about it once. They said you got blown up.”
Donovan returned his attention to the road. He didn’t like talking about his past, but at least she’d moved beyond the fake smile and small talk. “Yeah, I did. More than once, actually.”
Her eyes widened, and he could see the questions forming in her mind. He braced himself for them, knowing full well that he had to be honest with her if he wanted any shot at a second night.
“More than once?”
“I was in Iraq and Afghanistan. I was blown up by an IED in both places. The first time, it just knocked me out, gave me a concussion. But the second one...that one did some real damage.” His hand tightened on the steering wheel as his chest constricted at the memory. “I lost my mind.”
Her hand fluttered up to her throat and he felt her gaze trace the rope of scar tissue along his temple as surely as a caress. “You lost...”
Why was his mouth suddenly so dry? He tapped the scar. “Traumatic brain injury.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said softly.
He shrugged it off, trying to keep his voice steady. “It was a risk of the job. I knew what could happen when I signed up for it.”
“But that doesn’t make it any less painful,” she said, and he could hear the pity in her voice.
No, it didn’t make it any less painful. But he didn’t want her to feel sorry for him. He wanted her to see him as more than his scars and his past. “It’s in the past,” he said firmly. “I’m here now, and I’m whole.”
She turned to face him, her eyes searching his. “Are you?”
