He took another swig from the bottle and turned slightly.
Silhouetted by a puff of shower steam, Zee stepped out, running a towel through her hair.
His fingers tightened on the bottle, making a crinkling noise.
Her hair was damp and loose around her shoulders, the chestnut strands darker with the wetness. And her lips…
Hell, they were pinker from the heat of the shower.
Church immediately looked away.
If he stared at those lips any longer he was going to lose what little control he had left.
“Sleep okay?” His voice sounded like he’d just drank a bottle of ground glass.
“Yeah. You?” She smiled faintly as she crossed the room to where he stood at the window. His body clutched at the scent of her shampoo.
He paused with the bottle halfway to his mouth. “Yeah.”
The lie slid out easily.
“That view…just wow.” She pressed her fingertips into the windowsill, making him think of how those little half-moons would feel on his skin.
“What the place lacks in space, the view makes up for.”
She pivoted, leaning against the sill now, and looked over the suite. “I think it’s great up here. You’d never know that horses sleep below us.”
He studied her for a beat, taking in the way the sunlight streaming through the window caught the colors in her eyes and brought each to stark clarity. Several shades of green circled the pupil, flaring out to amber specked with dark brown.
Hell. He shouldn’t be noticing Zee’s eyes.
“Breakfast?”
“Please.”
“Give me a minute.” He finished the water and dropped it in the trash. He’d showered the night before, so it didn’t take him long to get ready.
When he walked out, he grabbed his boots and jacket, aware of Zee watching him. But if he met her stare, he didn’t trust himself to leave the suite.
All day.
And night.
They walked out to the lodge together and were greeted by the smell of coffee and bacon. A few of the vets sat gathered around one of the tables, talking.
In the corner by a window, he saw one of the men who’d just arrived on the Black Heart. Thin. Withdrawn. A loner, from what Church could see. Rumors were he’d spent time as a hostage. Tortured.
He wasn’t eating but as Church looked on, he lifted his coffee to his lips without shifting his gaze from the window.
The air stirred around Church’s arm as Zee stepped up beside him. “Who is that?” she murmured low enough to not be overheard.
“Name’s Archer Carmichael. He joined the program a few weeks ago.”
“Is he going to be okay?”
He looked down at her, seeing the pain in the depths of her eyes. She too had suffered. Not in the same way, but it was still pain.
He considered her question, thinking over what he knew about Carmichael, which wasn’t much. But he’d spoken to him more than once, held a decent conversation too. The man mightbe trying to find his place in the world now, but his mind wasn’t broken.
