“Or teenage boys stealing glimpses of their dad’sPlayboymagazine.”
Now she turned to face him, one brow higher than the other. “The voice of experience?”
Slapping his hand on his chest, and widening his eyes, he feigned shock. “Me?”
To his delight, that had her laughing, before turning back to see Raider working his way slowly back to the porch steps. “I alphabetize my spice racks.”
“Excuse me?”
She turned to face him. “Jackie invited me to visit so I would stop organizing my closets. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I not only organized, I alphabetized my spices. And maybe my DVD collection.”
“I see.” He held back a grin. “So, what you’re saying is the stars are keeping our secrets too?”
Tilting her head, she leveled her gaze with his. “What secrets are they keeping for you,” she straightened and flashed a bright smile under the porch light, “since you didn’t steal a peek at your dad’s magazines.”
Debating what to say next, he decided to stick with levity. “Busted zipper.”
“Excuse me?”
“A busted zipper did me in. New tactical gear for special night maneuvers. Worked great. Until we returned home. The zipper was totally stuck and when I yanked at it with sheer brute force—”
“Mm hm,” she cut him off. “Men are good at that.”
“So I’ve heard. Anyhow, I proceeded to break the dumb thing and ruin any chance of getting out of it unnoticed.”
“What happened?”
“My buddy had to cut me out of it, then we had to come up with a good reason to give our CO, and the rest of my team madea point not to let me forget what happened, especially after a few beers.”
“You win. That definitely beats my spice rack.”
Raider barked, and Josh could see he was now at their feet but a bit wobbly on his. “I’d better put this back on and get him to that restful bed for more recovery time.”
“Need help?”
“No. We’ve got this.” He slid the band around him, took two steps, then stopped. Nothing about going back to his quiet room appealed right now. Spending more time with Katie, on the other hand… “Did you say fried chicken?
Katie followed Josh and Raider inside, letting the screen latch with a soft click. “Fried chicken,” she headed for the fridge, “the breakfast of champions. Or insomniacs.”
His movements slow and deliberate, Josh crossed the room, unhooked the belly band from beneath Raider, and stretching his hand forward, let Raider sniff him a moment, and when the dog licked his hand, he shifted to scratching behind his ear.
“He’s taken a real shine to you.” At first it had surprised her how the dog had warmed up to Josh and not Kade the trained handler, but from what she could see, it seemed pretty obvious the feeling was mutual.
“I think he’s just hoping for some of that fried chicken.”
“Fried chicken. Right.” She spun around and pulled the fridge door open. “I think I saw the container on the bottom shelf earlier.” She leaned in, moving several items out of the way. “Behind the yogurt. Alice buys yogurt in tubs the size of small swimming pools.”
“Good hiding spot.” Josh leaned against the butcher-block island, his stance wide, his hands behind him. Whether that wasmilitary habit, or an attempt to keep his balance, she wasn’t sure.
Spotting the tell-tale Tupperware tucked behind a gallon of Greek yogurt and a formidable tub of potato salad, she grabbed the container and tucking the tub against her with one arm, she spun around and held the other container up like the Stanley Cup. “Found it.”
Bumping the door shut with her hip, she set the prize on the island and peeled back the lid. The scent of savory spices wafted up, instantly making her mouth water.
“I’ll get the plates.” Carefully turning around to reach the upper cabinets, Josh pulled two down and then, one hand on the counter, slowly turned back around.
Setting the food down, she kept her gaze on him. Definitely keeping his balance, she decided, wishing there was something she could do to help him heal up faster.
Taking a seat beside her at the table, Josh reached in and snagged a drumstick. “The colonel has nothing on Alice. Best fried chicken this side of the Mason Dixon line—even cold.”
