“Microwave mug cake.” She put the mug into the machine. “It just needs ninety seconds. And like magic, you have a mug of chocolatey goodness to fix what ails you.”
"Magic, huh?"
"Yep." She popped the mug into the microwave, set the timer, then turned to face him, leaning back against the counter. "You couldn’t sleep either?"
Rowan exhaled through his nose. "Too much on my mind."
The microwave hummed between them. Enya studied him, her gaze flicking over his face like she was reading something there. Then the timer beeped. She pulled out the mug, the cake risen and steaming, and grabbed a can of whipped cream from the fridge. A swirl on top, two strawberries plucked from a container, plopped beside it.
She slid it across the counter toward him. “There. A good-ole healthy chocolate fix. Have at it.”
Rowan raised an eyebrow. It was dubious that there was a damn thing healthy about what was in that mug. “I hate to break it to you, but adding strawberries doesn’t count as healthy when you add them to the top of a mug full of chocolate and sugar.” He fished two teaspoons out of the drawer and handed her one.
“It totally counts as healthy.” She grabbed her mug and took the spoon he offered her. “Strawberries are fruit, fruit is healthy, ergo, it’s a healthy chocolate cake.”
With his love of peach cobbler, he knew he didn’t have a leg to stand on in the healthy or not debate, so he dug into the mug with the spoon and popped it into his mouth. The cake was rich and warm, and the strawberries and cream cut the sweetness just enough. “Not bad.”
“Not bad, my butt.” She sighed happily as she munched on her treat. “Chocolate fixes everything bacon can’t.”
“Wait.” He paused with the spoon halfway to his mouth, “You made bacon, too?”
She nodded. “Well, not really bacon on its own, but I did make breakfast muffins with pancake batter, bacon, cheese, and maple syrup, so you guys have a snack to take with you when you leave later.”
He glanced around the kitchen, but didn’t see anything. His spoon clinked against the mug as he set it down. “You’re hiding bacon muffins from me?”
“They’re in the pantry, cooling off. I figured you wouldn’t want to have the one that Poppy licked.”
Yeah, no, I wouldn’t.
An emotion he didn’t recognize targeted his chest and scored a direct hit on his heart. She’d been listening when he and the guys talked about the op earlier around the dinner table. Enya had not just heard the words, but also understood what it meant to do the jobs they did. That she cared enough about the early departure time, the long hours without food, and the way a man’s body could turn on him if he didn’t keep fuel in the tank mattered more than he would ever be able to find the words to say. Most people outside the life didn’t get that. They thought it was all guns and glory, not the grind of survival in the middleof nowhere with nothing but your brothers, your wits, and whatever MRE you’d stuffed in the pockets of your ruck before you spun up and the world went to hell.
He swallowed; his throat suddenly tight. “You didn’t have to do that.” His gaze lasered in on her mouth as Enya licked a smear of chocolate from her spoon, and he bit back a groan.
“I know. But I wanted to.” She peered into the cup, then added another swirl of whipped cream. “I know you guys have to leave soon, and I just… I wanted to do something for you, for all of you.”
Rowan exhaled and rubbed the spot on his chest where a weirdta-thumppounded under his skin. He shouldn’t let her go down this road. Being the significant other of a Mercenary was a heck of a long, lonely road to travel, and it came with none of the back-ups and supports that were available to a military spouse. There were no death benefits, and exactly zero pensions in contracting. He knew better than to put even one toe over the line of starting anything with her. Yet, every fiber of his being demanded he ignore what he should do—walk away—and do what he wanted to do.
Reach for her.
“Mmh.”
Hearing that sound coming from Enya dragged a ragged exhale from his chest.
Ping. Ping.
In his head, he could almost hear the links of the mental chains keeping him in place, as they shattered.
Ping!
And there went the last shred of control he possessed.
Shit!
His hand shot out, fingers curling around the nape of Enya’s neck with a possessiveness that should’ve terrified him—and given her startled ‘eep,’ it surprised the heck out of her.
“Come ’ere.” Need and desire stoked the fire burning through his veins, the fire that had been smoldering since the moment he’d first seen her—bruised, bloodied, but alive—in that godforsaken jungle. His fingers tangled in the strands of her hair while every rational thought in his head screamed at him to stop, to slow down, to remember the weight of his responsibilities, the dangers of his life, the way love was a luxury men like him couldn’t afford… but he didn’t want to stop.
Her lips parted on a shaky breath, her tongue darting out to catch the last trace of chocolate from her lower lip.
