She sure took long baths. When she finally came out, it seemed she’d taken most of her belongings in there with her.
“Sorry,” she said, her cheeks still rosy from the steam. She’d put on some makeup and done her hair, but she was still wearing the hotel bathrobe. Which pissed him off. Didn’t she know how easy it was for him to take that thing off? “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”
He grumbled something and barely even looked at her as he took refuge in the icy-cold waters of his shower. After BUD/S, he swore he’d never take a cold shower again. That was before he’d met Brittany.
He was more relaxed by the time he emerged, and he managed to make it through a pretty decent dinner at a local French-style café before some of that earlier tension returned. It wasn’t the long night ahead of him that confronted him when he looked at the two beds as they came back into the room—although that sure as hell bothered him; it was the turn their conversation took.
At dinner, she’d been almost cautious in conversation topics. As if she knew something was bothering him. But as soon as they returned to their hotel room, all that restraint fled.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Then why are you acting like this?”
“Like what?”
Brittany had never had a high tolerance for his or any other BS. He shouldn’t have been surprised when she cut right to the quick.
“Like you didn’t kiss me earlier.”
“It was only a kiss, Brittany. Don’t make one of your federal cases out of it, like you do everything else.”
Five years ago she would have flushed with embarrassment, but not now. Now it was anger. “And what about me sleeping in your arms last night? I guess that didn’t mean anything either?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You cried out. You were having a nightmare. I went over to see if you were okay, and you pulled me into bed beside you. You held me cuddled against your chest all night long.”
John was the one who was embarrassed now. It was like she’d just thrown a pitch and dropped him into the dunking booth of shame. It washed over him in a hot rush of anger. The nightmares and talking in his sleep were why he’d avoided overnight female companionship since the op in Russia.
What had he said?
He didn’t want to know. But most of all, he didn’t wantherto know.
“I wasasleep, Brittany. I didn’t know what I was doing. You could have been anyone.”
He’d said something like that to her once before, but this time she called him on it. “That’s crap, John, and youknow it. You knew it was me. Just like you knew it was me when you kissed me like that.” Her gaze held his in an unyielding challenge. “I’d wager you’ve never kissed anyone like that in your life.” She didn’t give him an opportunity to play dumb. “Like you cared.” And just in case he didn’t get the point. “Like you cared aboutme.”
“I do care about you.”
“You know I don’t mean it like that.”
“Then why don’t you say what you mean, because I feel like you are talking in some kind of language I don’t understand? And if you are expecting me to say something, you’re going to be waiting a really long time.”
Eyes wide with shock, she blinked. But it didn’t quite hide the hurt.
He felt like an ass. But this was exactly what had happened before. She was trying to get too close. Trying to pin him down. “Look,” he said. “I’m sorry about last night. It won’t happen again. And I shouldn’t have kissed you earlier. You were drunk and obviously mistook my intentions.”
“I didn’t mistake anything, and I wasn’t drunk. I was a little buzzed, but not drunk.”
A drink was exactly what he needed. He started toward the minibar, but she stepped in front of him, cutting him off. “Alcohol isn’t going to help, John. It isn’t going to make you forget what happened, and it isn’t going to bring them back. I’m worried about you. The drinking, the nightmares. You need to talk to someone.”
He snapped. This was exactly the kind of crap he didn’t need. She wasn’t his girlfriend; she needed to stop acting like one.
He took one long look at her, standing there with her eyes too full of concern, as if she fucking understood. She didn’t understand anything. “Fine. I won’t drink here. I’ll be back later.”
He’d finally shaken her confidence. Now she lookedworried. As if she’d overplayed her hand and he’d called her on it. “Where are you going?”
