Something in my chest goes tight. I’ve seen what bad water can do to a community.
I lean back against the counter, arms folded across my chest. “We had something like that when I was deployed,” I say. “Small village near where we were running patrols. Water source got contaminated somehow. People kept using it because they didn’t have another option.”
She pauses, glancing up at me. “What happened?”
“Kids got sick first,” I say. “Then everyone else. Stomach issues. Skin problems. Whole place went downhill fast.”
Her expression tightens. “Were they able to fix it?”
“Eventually,” I say. “Took longer than it should’ve.” I glance at her. “People in charge kept saying it was being handled. Didn’t look handled to me.”
Her mouth presses into a thin line. “It never is.”
“No,” I agree. “It’s not.”
For a second, neither of us says anything.
Then I nod my head at her in acknowledgement. “Sounds like they’ve got the right person on it here, though. You’ll make sure the problem is fixed.”
She huffs out a quiet breath, like she’s not sure whether to believe that.
But I do. I’ve just met her, but I can see how passionate she is, how dedicated. How fuckingimpressive.
She begins setting the table, and I step forward to help. “Let me take those,” I say, grabbing the plates.
When we sit down to eat, she smiles shyly, gesturing at the meal. “I hope you enjoy this.”
“I already am,” I admit.She could hand me a cold can of beans and a slice of bread, and it would still be the best meal of my life, simply because I’m sitting across from her.
Her cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink. “Bon appétit.”
I take a bite, closing my eyes to savor the explosion of flavors on my tongue. It's good. Better than good. It’s amazing. I open my eyes and see that she’s watching my face.
“Well?” she asks, her lips curving into a smile. “Edible?”
“Delicious,” I say. “Possibly the tastiest thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”
She stills for just a second, like she wasn't expecting that. Then she looks down at her plate, a small smile at the corner of her mouth. “I’m glad you like it.”
After dinner, she walks Roxy and me to the door. There's a pause there, like she's deciding whether to say something else.
"Well, thanks again. I really can’t say it enough.”
"Stay on the trail," I tell her, teasing.
"If I stayed on the trail, I wouldn’t have met you or Roxy.”
Roxy barks at the sound of her name, and Jenny and I both laugh.
So, is this it? Do I ask for her phone number? Do I ask to see her again?
I run a hand through my hair, stifling a wince when my fingers meet resistance from the tangled locks. Why would she want to see me again? I’m a goddamn mess.
And she’s practically perfect, at least ten years younger than me, gorgeous, brilliant,anda good cook.
Far too good for me.
But sometimes a guy just has to shoot his shot, right? What do I have to lose?