“It’s just that we’ve only known each other ten days. And we’ve really only talked during the past few days. And everyone knows that extreme danger and adrenaline can mess with a person’s emotions. And—” Laughter burst from him. “Why are you laughing?” she asked, eyeing him with disgruntlement.
The blue eyes that locked on her face gleamed with amusement. Periodic ripples of laughter shook his torso, which in turn rippled through her body since they were pressed so closely together.
“Because none of that matters and you damn well know it.” He threaded the fingers of both hands through her hair and held her gaze. “Love doesn’t subscribe to a set schedule. It happens when it happens. Sometimes it’s instant, sometimes it takes years. And sometimes it takes ten days and twelve hours.”
Ten days and twelve hours.
The words resonated with her. He’d listed the exact length of time they’d known each other. And she knew he was right. The knowledge that she loved him sat warm and solid in her heart, even if her mind insisted on analyzing and second-guessing.
“Besides.” He nuzzled the side of her neck as his hands slid up and down her back in a soothing caress. “I reckon we’re not in an almighty hurry to move things along. We’ll give that scientific mind of yours plenty of time to examine and adapt and climb on board.”
It was the oddest thing, but the simple fact that he’d realized her brain and heart were at odds was an immense relief. If he knew her well enough to know that, maybe he did know her well enough to love her.
She studied his relaxed, certain face.
And maybe she knew him well enough for love to bloom too.
It felt right to lie there in his arms, pressed so closely against him she could feel the beat of his heart against hers, the warmth of his cooling skin.
It felt real, this emotion connecting them. It felt strong. It felt reciprocated.
Which was more than enough to hold tight to and build on.
Mac’s coffee mug froze midway to his mouth. He watched in disbelief as his corpsman, at the table to his left, set two plates piled high with eggs, bacon, hash browns, and French toast on the aluminum table in front of Faith Ansell.
Who in the hell did he expect to eat that heap of calories? While Rawls might manage to wade his way through one of the plates—eventually—his woman ate like a picky bird. She’d polish off a tenth of that mound at best.
When Rawls stepped over the bench seat and sat next to Faith, settling so close to her they were practically sealed together from hip to shoulder, Mac shook his head in disgust and lifted the mug to his mouth. Another good man down for the count. This falling in love shit had become an epidemic.
“Benji,” Amy said to his right as she neatly sliced her son’s fried egg into pieces. “If you spent half the time working on your breakfast as you do talking, you’d be finished eating by now.”
Her youngest, sitting across the table next to Cosky, turned to scowl at her. “But Mom, it’s important. I’m helping him get a dog.”
A dog?
Mac caught Cosky’s dry expression. Yeah, Cosky wasn’t the one interested in dogs.
He studiously ignored the heat blasting him from hip to shoulder thanks to the damn woman sitting so close to him. Why the hell couldn’t she have chosen a different table, hell, a different room—although he suspected a different cafeteria wouldn’t have lessened the effect she had on him.
Suddenly Cosky’s amused voice echoed in his mind . . . haunting him.
“Don’t think we haven’t noticed how you look at her, Mac. Fuck—you look at her the same way Rawls looks at his doctor.”
He shuddered and banished the memory of Zane and Cosky’s uproarious laughter when he’d denied having feelings for the woman.
Just because they’d formed their own personal pussy-whipped club didn’t mean he had any interest in joining them. His hand tightening around his mug, he avoided the woman on his right by concentrating furiously on the couple across from him.
Cosky and Kait sat directly across from him, while Marion was a bit more to the left. Empty plates were pushed to the middle of the table and half-full coffee cups sat in front of them. Their heads were tilted together as they quietly discussed something—probably wedding plans. Assuming they managed to extract themselves from this Goddamn mess and waltz into a new life together.
With a sour shake of his head, Mac glared down into the black depths of his coffee as though the bitter liquid held all the answers to their current predicament.
The failure the night before had been a blow. No, he hadn’t expected much, considering the intel had come from a Goddamn ghost. But there must have been some hidden kernel of hope lodged deep in his moronic brain, because the frustration and disappointment when the insertion hadn’t yielded even one fucking clue was so thick he could almost taste the bitterness on his tongue.
“You look like someone just shot your best coon hound,” Rawls said, pointing his fork toward Mac.