Her slick body glides against mine, and I curse inwardly as I place her gently on her feet.
The towels are thick as blankets and heated. Pulling one around her shoulders, I wrap her up, snug, protectively.
Trying not to think about how hard I still am in these clingy wet briefs, I turn to grab my own towel and promptly slip on the wet stone like a rookie.
Liberty bursts into laughter. “Graceful. Very elite for a super soldier.”
I shoot her a mock glare, blinking water from my eyes. “The blame is squarely on you, babe.”
“Oh, right? Because you were staring at me instead of watching your footing.”
“Correct,” I say without shame, tightening my towel. Her eyes flick down, then dart away, cheeks coloring. Good. At least I’m not alone in this torment.
We head inside, our damp footprints trailing behind us, her shoulder brushing mine with every few steps. It shouldn’t short-circuit me, but it does.
“All thatswimmingmade me hungry,” she says, adding air quotes around swimming.
I cough out a laugh. “Swimming, huh? Is that our code word? Every couple needs one.”
There is a stumble in her next step.
Couplehit her. It hit me too, but I meant it.
“Kitchen raid?” I ask, knowing the night is still young and there’s no way I’m done hanging out with her.
“Only if we take the food to the tree.”
The idea makes my chest feel like it’s glowing. “Deal. But I’m picking the snacks. Can’t trust a civilian with mission-critical dessert decisions.”
She swats my arm as we walk into the kitchen. The low lighting makes the space feel like it was built for midnight mischief. Which is why I want the island between us.
“Have a seat,” I point.
After giving me a look, she hops onto a stool, watching me while I open the fridge.
I do a quick assessment. Grabbing lots of cheese because she needs something besides sugar. Then a box of chocolate truffles because they are romantic AF.
Home-baked cookies wrapped in wax paper and tied with little ribbons join the mix.
Chocolate-dipped strawberries are next.
Her eyes sparkle as I arrange everything carefully, systematically.
A bottle of sparkling cider clunks as I place it on the counter.
“Ooh,” she murmurs. “This looks incredible.”
“Holiday feast, high-end grazing style. I could get used to this chef thing.”
“You’re not kidding. Think Marshall and Luke would let us just move in here?”
“I can work on that.” Ideas start to spin in my head. The owners of Agile S&R said he wanted to use some of the surrounding land for training.
We head back to the great room quietly. There’s nothing awkward at all now. It’s natural as breathing.
The tree glows like a private galaxy, the fire still crackling low. It’s magical, and I’ve never been more glad that this isn’t a team function.
Amen for whatever happened that gave us this time.
