“For the dogs,” she explained, then went back to their previous conversation where he’d mentioned crash-coursing himself back into diving again.
“I’d expect nothing less than you diving back in, head first,” Jett told him. “Pun intended,” she added.
To which he grunted.
Jett poured dark maple syrup over everything on her plate, then moaned with the first bite, when the sweet flavor hit her tastebuds. She purposely licked one drip off her bottom lip and…
Trask hissed, his eyes snapped to hers, and she grinned.
Yup.That had gotten to him.
Should she annoy him some more?
Strategically, maybe not. It might be better to ease off until he dropped his guard, then hit him with her innate irreverence again when he least expected it.
Yup.Decision made. For now, she’d go bland. “It sounds like you’re doing the right thing. You’ll have your teaching credentials in no time.”
Trask glanced at her suspiciously, but didn’t agree or disagree, insteadalsotucking into his food.
He was a man who clearly only spoke when he felt it necessary.
A long silence ensued, and it kind of freaked Jett out. She was used to filling dead air-space with chatter, and the fact that they were both simply eating quietly, had her feeling off. How could the man push all her libido-buttons, then let that go without so much as a blink? Was he even thinking about it?
“You’re good at being quiet,” she pointed out unnecessarily, because…Yeah. Actual minutes had gone by without a word, and it still felt all wrong to her.
“I am,” he agreed. “With seven brothers, I did a lot of listening when I was younger,” he explained, a hint of a smiletwitching at the corner of his mouth. “I never knew when one of them would say something I could use as ammunition against them, so I made it an art to pay attention when they weren’t expecting it.”
Jett let out a laugh that almost had her spewing food. She covered her mouth with one hand and swallowed. “Oh my God,” she eventually chortled. “I bet that paid off in spades once you were in charge of your regiments in the Marines.”
“Who said I was in charge of anything?” he countered instantly, one brow raising haughtily.
Seriously? He didn’t think she knew a commanding officer when she saw one?
“Oh, please, Trask. You were in for thirty years, and you practically have the word ‘superior’ tattooed on your forehead.”
Trask looked momentarily annoyed, but then shrugged. “Well, I’m not in the service anymore, so I’m no longer anybody’s boss. As a matter of fact, I’m low man on the totem pole at Diver Downeast, so all your speculation is moot.”
“Until a job drops in your lap that needs someone to step up and take charge. Then, whether your cohorts like it or not, your true colors are going to shine through and you’ll be barking orders like a pro.”
Again, Trask didn’t look all that happy with her observances, but he didn’t call her out on them, either. He simply shoveled eggs into his mouth like a starving man.
He thought he could dodge more questions, huh?
Hah.He didn’t know her very well.
Now that Jett was so close to finding out just what rank the man had held, she wasn’t going to back down. She tapped her cheek in thought. “Hmmm. Thirty years in,” she repeated. “I’d say maybe a Brigadier General, but something tells me you wanted to remain more…active. More hands on. So…a Major?” she guessed.
Trask let out a huge sigh, placed his fork carefully down, and pinned her with a stare. “You’re not going to give up, are you?” he asked.
“Nope,” Jett easily agreed. “I’m on the hunt, now.”
“Fine,” he huffed. “I left as a Colonel; a regimental commander. Does that satisfy your nosiness?”
Jett felt as if she’d won a prize. Trask had actually given her something to work with. “Not all of it,” she told him gleefully. “How many troops were under your command?”
“If I tell you, will you stop asking me questions?”
Jett shrugged. “Maybe,” she semi-relented.
