She flicked off her bedroom light, hurried to the back door, and opened it. Every thought in her head vanished.
He smiled down at her, clean shaven and smelling of shampoo and fresh air, snow clinging to his jeans up to his knees. “Hey.”
“Hey.” She might have stood there staring at him if the air hadn’t been freezing cold. She stepped aside to make room for him. “Please, come in."
He did his best to stomp the snow off his boots outside, then stepped inside onto the little doormat. “The snow was a deeper than I thought.”
While he took off his boots, she grabbed a dish towel. “You can probably brush most of it off with this.”
“Thanks.” He set the dish towel on the table and slipped out of his parka, revealing a gray flannel shirt layered on top of a black T-shirt that stretched across the muscles of his chest.
You’re staring.
She retrieved two red wine glasses from the cupboard, set them on the counter, and chose a bottle of shiraz from her wine rack, her mind racing for something conversational to say. “Did the rest of your day go well?”
She was amazed by how calm and collected she sounded. She hadn’t felt this nervous with a man since … well, she didn’t know when.
She glanced over her shoulder, saw he was brushing snow off his jeans.
“A kid hit a tree.”
What was he saying? Oh, yes. She’d asked him about his day.
“Ouch,” she managed to say. “Was he okay?”
She reached into the drawer where she kept the wine opener.
“He had a head injury. We evacuated him via helicopter.”
She turned, wine and corkscrew in hand, to find Jesse standing a few feet away, his gaze fixed on her. Her pulse skipped. “I forgot how big you are.”
An image of the bulge in his boxer briefs flashed into her mind.
Her cheeks burned. “Tall … I meant tall. You’re very tall.”
Without breaking eye contact, he took the wine bottle from her. “Let me.”
* * *
“Why didyou join the Rangers?”
Jesse sat on one side of the sofa, while Ellie sat on the other, looking good enough to eat, her jeans and that fuzzy sweater hugging sweet curves, pink polish on her toenails, her hair hanging thick and blond to her shoulders. Until tonight, he hadn’t seen her up close without a bulky winter coat. He certainly wasn’t disappointed.
Wine had taken the rough edges off her nerves. She’d been so tense when he’d arrived that he’d made extra sure to keep his distance. And so here they were, on opposite ends of the sofa, just talking.
Not that he was complaining.
“I grew up in a tiny town in Louisiana. My grandfather, my uncles, my dad— they either worked on fishing boats or in the refineries. I just couldn’t do that. I wanted to get away, see the world, be a part of something bigger. I’d always been bigger and stronger than the other boys, so I figured I’d join the army, try for my Ranger tab, and kick some terrorist ass for Uncle Sam.”
“How did your family take that?”
“My mom yelled and cried and threatened to shoot me in the knee cap. Her son was not going to go overseas and die in some stupid war. My father took it as a rejection. He and I have never been close.” The truth was darker than that, but he didn’t want to ruin the mood. “I haven’t talked to him since my mother died. That was five years ago.”
“I’m sorry. Why did your mom die? She can’t have been that old.”
“Heart attack. It runs in her family.”
“Sorry.” Then Ellie smiled and shook her head, giving a tipsy little giggle.