A Maverick for the Holidays

“And what about him?” Austin asked. “Does he feel the same way?”

“Oh, he’s attracted to me,” she said, laughing.

“How do you know that? Did he make a move on you?”

Angie rolled her eyes. “Of course not. He’s not that kind. A woman just knows these things,” she said.

Austin looked at her as if he thought she didn’t have a clue. She had to bite her tongue to resist arguing with him further.

“I wouldn’t be a decent brother if I didn’t encourage you to take it slow. Even you have to admit that you’ve been known to lead with your heart instead of your head.”

She nodded. “You’ve done your duty,” she said. “Since you’re here, do you mind checking out the truck? It’s been making a funny noise lately.” She didn’t want any more of Austin’s brotherly advice. Especially if he was going to discourage her about Forrest.

A few days later, Forrest’s phone rang again, and this time he knew the caller’s identification. Although he’d avoided officially adding Angie to his caller list, he knew her number. “Forrest Traub,” he answered the phone.

“Angie Anderson,” she mocked him in a deep voice. The giggle that followed ruined her stern tone.

He couldn’t help grinning a little though he was glad she couldn’t see. “How are you?”

“Wonderful. And you?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t say wonderful, but not bad. What do you need?”

“Well, that’s a wide-open question,” she said in a husky voice that made his gut clench.

“I meant—”

“I know what you meant. I was hoping you and I could get together and talk some more about the projects we’re planning. We don’t have a lot of time before Christmas to get things going.”

“True,” he said. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I could bring over takeout tomorrow night,” she suggested.

Forrest had a hard time turning down a meal. Although he could easily join his brother and Antonia at the main house, he couldn’t help but feel he was intruding. “That would work. But this time, I pay.”

“It’s no big deal. Do you like Italian or Chinese?” she asked.

“Both when I don’t have to prepare it,” he said.

She chuckled. “Me, too. I’ll surprise you, then. Tomorrow night around six?”

“Okay. See you then,” he said and hung up the phone. Forrest couldn’t help wondering what he was getting into by sharing another meal with Angie. He second-guessed himself, wondering if he should have kept their meeting in a public place. That way, neither of them would be tempted to do something they shouldn’t. Not that he was all that tempted. Deep down, he knew that Angie was completely off-limits for him. She was a sweet, naive, young woman who had no clue just how dark his soul was. He had no intention of having her find out. In a strange way, he found her naivete precious, and he didn’t want to destroy it.

The next night, Forrest ran the vacuum and did a little extra cleaning. He told himself it wasn’t for Angie. It was because his suite needed it. Hell, it wasn’t like he was lighting candles for her.

That thought soothed him at the same time he wondered if he should have gotten a bottle of wine. He’d been very careful with alcohol since he’d come back to the States. There was a high correlation between PTSD and alcoholism and drug abuse, and he was determined not to become a statistic. So far, he’d drank a beer every now and then, but that was all.

Rubbing his jaw, he wondered why he felt so edgy. In the scheme of things, Angie was just a kid.

A knock sounded at the door, pulling him out of his reverie. He felt an involuntary kick of excitement and scowled at himself. If he was getting this worked up over Angie, maybe he just needed to get out more often.

He opened the door and she grinned at him. “Hi there,” she said holding a bag of what smelled like Chinese takeout in one hand and a tote full of papers in the other.

Forrest couldn’t resist stealing an extra moment to take in the sight of her. Her unbuttoned red peacoat suited her bright personality, and the gray and white scarf around her neck tempted his gaze to fall into the V-neck of her gray sweater that gave a glimpse of her creamy cleavage. His mind followed his gaze and he couldn’t help wondering …

Forrest jerked his gaze and thoughts away from Angie’s breasts and he reached for the Chinese food. “Come on in. Smells good. What did you get?”

“Egg rolls, fried rice, kung pao chicken, sweet and sour pork, stir-fry beef with vegetables and of course fortune cookies. Will any of that work for you?”

Forrest felt his stomach growl. “All of it,” he said. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

“Well, I’m glad I could help out with that,” she said and dumped her papers on the sofa and pulled off her coat. Feeling himself get distracted by her feminine shape again, Forrest deliberately headed for the kitchen. He began to pull out the boxes of food. “Whoa, this is enough for five soldiers,” he said.

“I figured you might enjoy the leftovers,” she said as she moved beside him. “I get the impression you don’t enjoy cooking all that much.”

“That’s true. My brother keeps inviting me up to the house to eat with him and Antonia, but I feel like a fifth wheel. They’re all goo-goo-eyed over each other, and with taking care of Clay’s son and her baby, they’ve got enough to do.”

“I don’t mind cooking,” she said. “But I don’t really like cooking for one, so I either eat out or end up eating a lot of frozen dinners on the couch.”

“It’s mostly frozen dinners for me, too, so this is a treat,” he said and put the boxes on a tray.

“Would you like some water?” she asked, pulling two glasses from the cabinet.

He nodded. “That works for me.”

She filled the glasses and smiled at him. “I guess we’re ready.”

Forrest carefully carried the tray into the den and put it on the sofa table. He tore open his chopsticks and gave her a set. “Dig in,” he said and started with the sweet and sour pork. “Good stuff,” he said, making a mental note to visit the restaurant again. After a moment, he noticed Angie was looking at him and not eating.

He paused. “Problem?”

She blinked. “Uh, no,” she said and tore the paper off her chopsticks. “I’m glad you like it.” She reached for the container of kung pao chicken and gingerly arranged the chopsticks between her fingers. Plunging the wooden instruments into the food, she finally pulled up a bite of chicken. Victory flashed across her features as she lifted the bite to her mouth. And dropped it.

Forrest couldn’t help chuckling. “I can get a fork for you,” he offered.

“No, no. I’ve always thought I should learn how to do this, but I never got around to it,” she said and tried to arrange her fingers around the chopsticks again.

Unable to resist helping her, Forrest set down his food and sticks. “Here,” he said, repositioning her fingers. “Try that.”

She successfully got a bite. “I did it,” she said with pleasure that made something inside him feel warm. It took her a long time to get even a few more bites.

“You’re doing good, but let me get you a fork. The food will be cold by the time you get to it.”

She gave a mock pout. “And I thought I was doing so well.”

“You were,” he said as he rose. “You just need to practice when you’re not hungry, so you can concentrate better.”

“When did you get so handy with those sticks?” she asked.