“I still am. That’s different.” She glanced at him, her gaze locking on his bare chest. She was a sucker for a six pack in cans or flesh. Something about those little ridges of muscle did it for her in a way that didn’t make sense.
“How’s it different?”
“Because... Those people were hurt because I didn’t make people listen, and now they’re involved in something someone wants to cover up. I need to get to the bottom of this before anyone else is hurt, and then...” She shrugged.
“You want to do something else?”
“Maybe? I mean, I’m missing out on my nieces and nephews growing up. My parents growing old. And for what? A job? I’m not sure it’s worth it, in the big picture. Anyone who knows the language can work with the locals. There are people here who could do my job, maybe better than I can, so why not let them?”
“That’s a good question,” Riley said. “Is that what you were lying awake thinking about? Work?” he asked.
“Sort of.” She wasn’t ready to reveal her weaknesses to him.
“You can tell me to stop asking questions, you know?”
“Stop asking me questions, Riley.” She chuckled.
“Got it. Loud and clear.”
“No—I’m kidding.”
“When you were a kid, and your mom told you not to touch the burner when it was on, you touched it, didn’t you?”
“Two or three times, if memory serves me right.”
“Are you serious?” He laughed and crammed a pillow behind his head.
“I am my father, she likes to say.”
“Is he stubborn, too?”
“He makes me look reasonable.”
“That must be a trip.”
Erin smiled. Her father had taught her a lot about what determination could accomplish. Maybe that was why she’d dug in about her job, refusing to give it up even when she wasn’t happy here.
“My dad’s a softy,” Riley said. “I think that’s why my brothers were such assholes as kids. He’s a great guy, though. And my brothers aren’t complete assholes.”
“I miss my family. I don’t think I realized it until now.”
“It’s easy to take them for granted. I don’t go home near as much as I should, and I know it.” Riley’s voice changed.
Erin studied him, the far-off look and the way his face creased. “What happened?” she asked.
“Oh, the usual story. Me and a friend joined the Army, got into the Rangers. That’s where I first met Grant, but we didn’t serve together. My friend died. I didn’t. I can’t go home without thinking—why me and not him? You know? I still don’t know how to talk to his family. It’s just easier if I stay away.”
“That’s the hard part, isn’t it? Being the ones who survive, figuring out how to go on.” She stared at her hands. Tiny scars dotted her skin, reminders of days she’d rather forget.
“Some days, yeah.”
“And then you feel even more guilt because you’re alive and they’re not.”
“That’s when you start drinking.”
“Every time I came home my dad would pick me up. Just him and me. The first time, I was a wreck. They cut our deployment short because... Well, just because.” She shook her head as though she could shake off the memories. “Dad took one look at me and drove to the nearest bar. This little dive of a place full of old, Cuban men. We drank. Didn’t talk much. And after a few hours he took me home.”
Erin hadn’t thought about those times in a long while. She could still hear the clink of the glass, ice hitting the bottom. The smell of mint and lime covered up the unpleasant odors built up by age. The chairs were uncomfortable, and her legs were too short for the stools, but she’d loved that dive.
“Here.” Riley stood next to her chair and held out a glass to her. When he’d gotten out of bed or poured a glass, she didn’t know. Memories were a weird thing.
She took the glass, and he clinked the other against hers. They both tossed the liquid down without another word. The burn in her chest was proof she was alive at least. The taste was another matter.
“Yuck. What the hell was that?” She handed him the glass.
“Hell if I know.” He puckered his lips and blinked. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I regret that.”
Riley set the glasses on the dresser, perched on the foot of the lounge chair, and patted her ankles. He stared at the ground, the muscle at his jaw twitching. She was content to watch him, take comfort in his presence.
What would it be like to find someone? A man she could share her burdens with?
What she felt for Riley was lust. The passion of desire. The pull of chemistry.
The man she wanted would have to be unique, patient, probably make her laugh and remember to be human. Basically, a lot like Riley.
“If you aren’t happy, find something else.” He finally looked at her. “My dad nearly killed himself working the farm, taking care of the livestock. Literally. Had this heart attack, and it made him—and us—realize he needed a break. Now? He drives a truck. He listens to self-help gurus, and he drives when he wants to.”
“Not sure I want to become a trucker.”
“You sure? The pay’s not bad.”
“If I quit, the whole point is going to be around family again.”
“You could probably find all kinds of translation work, couldn’t you?”
“Probably. I’ve done some freelance translation for the military from time to time.” With her background she could probably get a job in the government sector, but was that what she wanted?
“Well, it sounds like you’ve got some research to do.” He flexed his hand around her ankle.
“One thing at a time. I need to sort out what’s happening here, first.”
“And on that note, think you can sleep?” He slid his hand up her calf and back down.
“I need to. I don’t know if I can. I keep wondering what
