His Last Breath by S.M. Butler

Author:S.M. Butler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romantic suspense, romance, military romance
Publisher: Soaring Phoenix Press
Published: 2018-09-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Whatever Chris was doing in the kitchen smelled heavenly. And it was about an hour before he called her.

He brought two plates over and set them on the table. A large chicken breast filled half of each plate, a side of sliced potatoes with cheddar and bacon, and some kind of mixed vegetables filled the other half. It was simple and easy, and she loved it.

He looked like a big kid as he sat her down at the small circular kitchen table and slipped into the seat next to her. Storm-filled eyes watched her as she lifted her fork. She glanced at him when he spoke. “I’m sure you’ve had better.”

She smiled. “No one’s ever cooked for me before.” His eyebrow rose. “I mean, personally.”

“No boyfriends ever took you to their apartment and cooked for you?”

She shook her head. “You’re forgetting who my father is.” Fuck, why did she say it like that? How could he forget? But his face didn’t change, not even the way the clouds swirled within his eyes. “I mean, any potential date got a background check before they even set foot on my dad’s lawn. Dinner at their place could never happen.”

“Sorry,” he breathed out and looked down at his plate.

They ate in silence for a bit, the sting of their previous conversation still biting through. Not that she expected him to forget it so quickly. But it stuck there between them like burrs, another burr joining it as time went on, and then another until it created unbearable tension.

“What did he do to you?” she blurted out.

He stopped, his eyes flaring with lightning. “Who?”

“Jean Giroux. I know you said he shot you, but it’s more than that. The look on your face earlier… that wasn’t just anger. It was agony. It physically pained you to look at me.”

Chris shook his head and set his fork down. “It’s my hang up. It’s not your fault.”

“But there is something there.”

“It was another life.” His favorite line. He was trying to compartmentalize it, minimize it so he couldn’t be affected by it.

“It was your life,” she replied.

“You should finish eating.” He stood up, his legs banging against the table, and walked to the living room.

Ookay. Subject no longer open for discussion. Got it.

She sighed. Maybe she was pushing too hard. She remembered what she’d been like after her rescue. Panicked all the time, adrenaline pumping constantly. Talking about it made it worse. Maybe it was the same for him. Or maybe she was starting the conversation wrong.

She followed him into the living room, but he very studiously studied the book in his hands and ignored her. “Do you remember that Air Force base in Germany?”

“The one they flew us to after we picked you up?”

Picked her up. That was a nice way to put “rescued from a deep, dark hellhole.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

He didn’t say anything, but he did put the book down and focus his gray eyes on her. God, she loved the way he watched her sometimes.

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