While Abby smiled as she touched his flesh with her gloved finger, and wishing that she could pull off the gloves and touch his skin, she considered her answer. “Actually, when I was little, I wanted to be a fashion designer. When I got to be a little older, I wanted to be a mystery writer. When I reached high school, I knew that I was going to be president of the United States.”
“Seriously?” he asked, surprised, but she heard the amusement in his voice even if she couldn’t see his face at this moment.
“Yep. I was head of the debate team and loved politics. I read every article I could find on the presidential election that year, and I loved reading books about the Constitution. So I probably would have headed into law school.”
“What changed your trajectory?”
“Well, my father was a Navy SEAL and, during my sophomore year of high school, he was killed on a mission.” She pulled out the container of antibacterial ointment she’d brought with her, squeezing some onto her finger, then carefully applying it to his wound as she spoke. “I was devastated. It didn’t help that I couldn’t know where he’d died or how it had happened.”
“That must have been rough,” he agreed.
She paused for a moment as the memories swept over her. But she shook them off and concentrated on Zeke and his magnificent back. “It was. I was angry for a long time, and tried to find out as much about his passing as I could.” She grimaced, then shrugged, although he couldn’t see her since his back was to her. “When I read through some of the reports the Navy gave to my mother, I became fascinated by the medical terminology that someone had used to describe my father’s wounds.”
“They gave that to you?”
She smiled, but Zeke couldn’t see her expression. “Sort of. My mother was in my dad’s commanding officer’s office. She was crying and he tried to comfort her. I saw a file with my dad’s name on it and…I snuck a peek. When I realized what it was, and that the commanding officer was hugging my mother and couldn’t see me, I took pictures with my cell phone.”
He made some sort of grunting sound. “That’s…not good security,” he muttered. “Typical of the Navy.”
Abby laughed, shaking her head. “Ah, the rivalry between the Army and the Navy is still strong, I see.”
“Absolutely!” he agreed. “The SEALs are pansies.”
Abby rolled her eyes. “Don’t you guys occasionally train with the SEALs?”
His massive shoulder shrugged dismissively. “Yes. And as individuals, I can acknowledge that the guys are serious bad asses. But I’m Army. So therefore, publicly, I can’t let my admiration be known.” He shifted a shoulder slightly. “Go on. You were telling me how you decided that the Army was better than the Navy and joined the real military.”
Abby laughed as she finished up with the ointment and picked up the gauze pads to re-cover the stitches. “You’re right, I was too angry with the Navy, but wanted to be a part of the military. I’ve kept in touch with my father’s commanding officer over the years and he helped me get into an ROTC scholarship program that helped me pay for medical school.” She taped the gauze to his back, nodding with approval at her handiwork. “I’ve never looked back. I love military life and I love what the Army does. I believe in its mission and it was the best choice I could have made.”
“You’re not worried about being sent overseas?”
She pulled off her gloves. “I did a tour in Iraq and another in Afghanistan. So no. I’d rather help out where I’m needed. But anywhere the Army sends me is fine with me.”
“That’s an unusual attitude.”
She smiled and closed up her medical bag. “Well, I don’t know if I’ll stay in the Army forever. But for now, it suits me.” She looked around, startled by the stark décor. It consisted of only a big, leather chair and…surprisingly, lots of books. “Where is your television?”
He grunted as he picked up his shirt again, sliding it over his arms. “I prefer to read.”
“How do you watch football?”
He stood up and moved closer, looking down at her. “Are you, perhaps, stereotyping me?”
She laughed. “Absolutely! A big guy like you? I bet you played football, didn’t you?”
He glared for perhaps a second longer, then acquiesced and nodded confirmation. “Yeah. I played at WestPoint.”
Her eyes widened at his dismissive tone. Getting into WestPoint was…well, huge! “Impressive! How’d the team do during the all-important game each year?”
His grin widened. “We beat Navy three out of the four years I played.”
Abby laughed, thinking he was even more attractive now that she knew he had brains inside that hard head of his. “Well, I guess I’d better head out.”
He moved slightly closer, looming over her. “Why not stay and have some dinner with me?”
Abby glanced at the kitchen. It didn’t look as if he ever used it. “Thanks but…” she hesitated when he moved even closer. “I should…”
“You should stay and have dinner with me. I’ll order pizza.”
“Pizza isn’t very healthy.”
He laughed at her chagrined expression. “Live on the wild side, doc. I dare you.”
Abby laughed as well, but the idea of going back to her apartment and…doing nothing just wasn’t nearly as enticing as staying here and getting to know Zeke. “I’ll stay on one condition.”
“What’s that?” he asked, moving slightly closer.
“That you promise not to kiss me again,” she whispered.
He tilted his head, his blue-eyed gaze lingering on her lips. “I can agree to that.
