Page 34 of Saving Wyatt

I nodded.

"Where in Greece are you from?"

"Oh, from Northern mainland Greece. From a little town called Little Heart Bay."

"Hm. That doesn't sound very Greek."

I laughed. "No. It doesn't. Its Greek name is Mikri Kardia, but it’s very touristy, so we have an official English name. Makes marketing easier, I suppose."

"Ah, that's more like it," he said. "Do you go back often?"

I grabbed the bowl with the meat, and once the frying pan was searing hot, I emptied the meat inside. Steam blasted our faces, and I chuckled as Wyatt leaned in and inhaled the tart but divine scent. He got so close to my face, for a second, I thought he was leaning in for a kiss.

I was tempted to do it anyway, but I still had some sense in my noggin. That didn't mean my heart didn't begin to race at the proximity, or that my cock didn't pulse from the impact he had on me.

"N-not as often as I'd like," I said. "But I try to speak to my family at least once a week."

He straightened back from the stove and pressed his lips together. "I bet that's still not the same. I remember when I was stationed abroad, I missed home something fierce."

"The States have become my home the past decade or so. It's not so bad," I said, and I pulled back a little too, Evan's beautiful smile appearing in my head for a moment.

"What brought you here anyway?"

I reached for my wedding ring on my right hand as if on instinct and rolled it around a couple of times, trying to compose myself.

"Love," I said.

He nodded, and after a moment, pointed at the meat. "Should I take it off?" he asked.

"I...uhm...yeah, if you want. Or you can have it a little crispier."

"I'll leave it to you." He put his hands up and smiled. "Can I do anything else?"

I dropped my hands and instantly cleared my head. It was best to focus on the here and now.

"I could make us a salad if you want," I offered, and he opened the fridge to take out some of the vegetables.

"I hope you mean Greek salad," he said, taking out the block of feta cheese and showing it to me.

I raised an eyebrow and scoffed. "As if there's any other option," I told him, and we both laughed.

A few minutes later, we were both sitting at the kitchen table with a plate full of fries, seasoned pork, tzatziki, and a salad to share between us.

"This is delicious," he said after taking a bite out of the pork. "It reminds me of kebab, or gyro."

"Ding, ding, ding, that's exactly what it is. Homemade gyros. Or the closest thing to it. To be honest this is probably healthier than the real thing, and the flavor is so close sometimes I forget it's not the 'real' thing," I said, also taking a bite.

"Well, I approve," he said. "This tastes like Greece all around," he added and took a couple of cucumbers and feta from the salad bowl.

"It really does," I said and looked at him for a few moments before I realized what I was doing and stared back at my plate.

Why was it so easy to forget myself around him? Why was it so easy to forget my body and heart were unavailable when he was around? Why was it so easy to be around him? And why did I feel right at home in his presence?

No. This wasn't right. I had to do something. Something to remind me he wasn't someone to swoon over. He was nothing but a friend in need. Nothing else.

I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I was sure I felt the copper taste of blood in my mouth, but I didn't care. If that was the only way to stop these...stupid feelings, then I'd bite my whole damn mouth until they ceased to exist.

THIRTEEN