She stepped up close to him while the forklift was holding the blade aloft so that Sam and his team could bolt it into place. The hand she rested on the center of his chest found damp cloth, a warm heat, and contours that had been burned into her memory in a single night. Being a Spec Ops warrior, he had an exceptionally nice chest that she’d deeply enjoyed.
“Derek. We’re both SOCOM. You don’t get here without facing a lot of harsh realities. Just because we didn’t think of it, doesn’t mean Gibson is wrong. If it comes down to it, trust his judgment and your own about taking the shot.”
He laid his hand over hers, pinning it to his chest. Then he closed his eyes as if her touch and approval were far more important than she knew them to be. “You’re the absolute best, Abby.”
“So, I guess that leads me to an even harder question.” She needed a joke before everything turned entirely too serious.
Derek opened one eye to look at her.
“How do we judge something like us?” Except it didn’t come out funny, not like she’d intended. Instead it was all too real.
“Us.” Derek opened the other eye, saying it without any indication of an emotion. “You asking seriously?”
Then the forklift almost ran them over as it backed away from the blade and departed to fetch the next one.
She waited while it rolled to the C-5 to fetch the next blade. Then decided what the hell, she’d already put her boot in it. “I’m asking because what with Trisha being a mass-hole?—”
“A what?” Derek laughed.
“She from Boston. Makes her a flatlander from Massachusetts. Anyway, she’s all married to a D-boy and has been pushing us together with the subtlety of a bull moose testing out his new antler growth. Your beloved Colonel Gibson married a Night Stalker, too, for good measure. And because you grinned at me worse than a hyena on a Thursday when you found that out.”
“They have hyenas in Maine?” He was definitely dodging the question. Which reminded her all too well of his face when she’d caught him slinking out of her bedroom.
“Okay, fine! You looked happier than a mudflat clam curled up in its shell. Is that better?”
“Much.” Derek helped her flip over the next rotor blade resting on the forklift’s tines as soon as it rolled up, then ease it back against the stops for more secure handling.
“Seriously, Derek. Be real. It was one night and not even that because you tried to scoot away.”
“Are we back to that?” he groaned.
“Hey, I may forgive you, you know, eventually, possibly. If the mood strikes me. And I might actually understand-some that you had good intent no matter how you bungled it. Doesn’t mean I don’t get to hold it over your head forever and ever.” That was closer to the funny she’d intended in the first place.
Now he was smiling at her. “The only way you get to do that is if we’re around each other that long.” His shock at his own words caught up with him about the same time it slammed into her.
“Oh Jeezum Crow. You’re definitely more trouble than you’re worth.” Forever and ever? What in the world had made her say it that way?
“I probably am.” Derek waited until they’d prepped the next blade for lifting before continuing—very softly. “But I think you’re worth finding out if that’s true.”
“You twisting that one around on me. You’re the one who’s trouble.”
“Says who?”
Abby wanted to bury her face in her hands. She also wanted to drag him into a dark corner of the hangar and see if even half of her memories from last night were real. Too bad the lights didn’t leave any dark corners in the vastness of the echoing Base Hangar. Every noise was amplified by the steel walls and they’d discovered that neither of them were particularly quiet while in the throes of ecstasy. She wished she had another, lesser word for how he felt inside her, but she didn’t. And that, Abby supposed, was that.
Waking up on his shoulder, with his cheek resting against the top of her head had left her with shivers, good ones. Ones that the mere memory of warmed her insides on this bitter British morning.
“What am I going to do with you, Derek?”
“I’m thinking that’s a straight line you don’t want to leave hanging out around me.”
She studied him for a long moment before answering. “You’re probably right.” But maybe not.
45
“What do you think they’re not telling us?” Misty risked asking Sam.
Hot Rod and Compass had been useless as always. She’s way cute. I see why Derek is into that. Utterly useless. With the DAGOR still loaded inside Charlene One and her sniper rifle checked twice, she had nothing to do. Waiting for the Go on a mission, that was fine. Sitting around while everyone else was on the hustle, not so much.
