“Then I won’t.”
But she wasn’t sure he was telling the truth. More confusing, the idea of him being concerned actually made her happy. Shouldn’t she want a man to believe she was completely self-sufficient? She sighed. Mating rituals were complicated in every species, but with humans, the rules were always changing.
* * *
GIDEON SLID THE steaks onto plates, and Felicia carried them over to the table. They’d prepared a salad together, and then she’d made a dressing while he’d put the meat on the grill. They sat across from each other as the setting sun cast shadows on the deck.
She cut into her steak. “Perfect,” she said. “I understand the conditions required to cook food, but I can’t always make the transition from theory to practice. Baking continues to elude me. Consuelo says my flaws keep me likable, but I’m less sure that’s true. Even if nobody likes a know-it-all.”
He shook his head. “You’re not a know-it-all. It’s an attitude thing.” She was painfully brilliant, but in a way that made sense. With her, it was like being tall, or having perfect pitch. It simply was.
“I hope you’re right. I want people to like me. That’s one of the appeals of this town. I have friends.” She sighed. “Girlfriends. We have lunch and get drinks together after work.”
Normal, he thought. What she would have missed while growing up. The army should have offered her the opportunity, but in Special Forces, there weren’t many women. Between her long hours and constant traveling, she wouldn’t have had the chance to find other women to hang with.
She smiled at him, her green eyes bright with amusement. “You’re a frequent topic of conversation,” she told him. “Women find your voice sexually appealing. Plus they admire your physique when you walk around town.”
He managed to swallow his bit of steak without choking. “Don’t tell me that.”
“Why not? It’s true and you should be flattered.”
“I don’t think so.”
She glanced at his left arm and lightly touched the tattoo visible below his shirtsleeve. “This also intrigues them. The older women equate tattoos and your former profession with danger. The younger ones simply find you sexy. Yet both can listen to your voice every night, which makes you more approachable. It’s a tempting combination.” She paused for a second, then laughed. “Like catnip to a cat.”
“Look at you, all one with the clichés.”
“I find them helpful in social situations. The structure of my speech is on the formal side.”
“It might just be your word choices.”
She nodded. “I agree. I know too many words, and I enjoy precision in my speech. But others find it off-putting.”
“They need to develop a sense of humor.”
“I wish I had one. I don’t always get the joke. I have trouble with cultural references. I’ve caught up on the television I missed while I was growing up, and I’ve read the significant books.” She flashed a smile. “I understand the worlds of Harry Potter and Twilight.”
“Magic and vampires? Not my thing.”
“Yes, but you’ve proven my point. You know what they are, even without having read the books or seen the movies. From the time I was small until I was sixteen, I missed out. I could tell you about the progress made in work on the origin of the universe, but I completely missed the rise in popularity of the American Girl doll.”
She started to say something else, then stopped. Her gaze sharpened. “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” she said quietly. “While you were held by the Taliban, you experienced the same phenomenon. Existing out of time.”
She touched his arm again, her fingers warm against his skin. “Not that I’m equating what I went through with what you did.”
“I wasn’t getting USA TODAY delivered, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He kept his tone light and was prepared to deflect any questions. He didn’t talk about his past—not with anyone. It was done, he’d moved on. He wanted to say he’d healed, but he knew that would never happen. The nightmares were proof. Some wounds stayed open forever. But he got by and, for the most part, managed to fool everyone into thinking he was just like them.
“I would have kept looking,” she said, returning her attention to her dinner. “If you’d been one of my team. They were wrong not to keep looking.”
He noticed that while she seemed fascinated by her steak, she wasn’t eating.
“No one knew,” he told her. “That was the point of my assignment.”
“Someone always knows. Someone has to get you in and have a plan to get you out. Equipment is supplied. They shouldn’t have left you.”
She didn’t know the details, but she could guess. And she was right—someone had known. His team had been dropped off and told they were on their own. But someone had known where they were.
“Politics,” he murmured and reached for his wine.
“How many others?” she asked.
Two of a Kind (Fool's Gold #11)
Susan Mallery's books
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- Just One Kiss
- Chasing Perfect (Fool's Gold #1)
- Almost Perfect (Fool's Gold #2)
- Sister of the Bride (Fool's Gold #2.5)
- Finding Perfect (Fool's Gold #3)
- Only Mine (Fool's Gold #4)
- Only Yours (Fool's Gold #5)
- Only His (Fool's Gold #6)
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- Almost Summer (Fool's Gold #6.2)