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He rolls his eyes, then smiles. A genuine smile, none of that snarky, fake stuff. It’s nice. Sweet even. “You didn’t finish reading through the contract.”
I quirk a brow at him. How the hell did he know that?
“Don’t give me that look. The acronym-laden lingo in the finances section made my head spin. So if it makes sense to you, either you’re a fucking genius with a military past I don’t know about or you haven’t gotten to that section yet.”
I giggle as I reach into my bag and get my wallet out. I gently take the debit card from Jim’s hand, our fingers brushing. His skin is rough, yet warm. I want to linger in the soft touch, but don’t. I place the card in my wallet and put my bag on the floor. Our ride home is quiet, but this time a comfortable quiet. A peaceful quiet that brings a calmness long forgotten. Maybe this marriage might actually work.
Chapter Five
Jim
After spending theentire afternoon training a new batch of rancid-smelling guys hoping to become SEALs, I welcome the soft sugary aroma teasing my nose as I twirl the inviting treat between my fingers one last time before popping it into my mouth. A satisfactory crunch lingers in my ears, rich chocolate overwhelming my taste buds. Damn, I’ve never tasted a better Oreo.
Shoving another cookie into my mouth, I return to my laptop. What is the military’s obsession with PowerPoint? If I knew part of my job would entail inserting audio files into slides I would’ve paid more attention in high school computer class. But the slideshow isn’t the worst part. I have to give a presentation to a bunch of dumbasses who aren’t even gonna make it through Hell Week.
My fingers hover over the keyboard, but the white of the screen starts drowning out the letters that blink in and out of focus. I straighten my spine, close my eyes and breathe in deep. A stinging pressure behind my forehead and left eye makes itself known.
There goes my evening. My brain obviously has other plans for me tonight.
The headaches have been coming more frequently lately. I lock my fingers behind my neck and start massaging the base of my skull, breathing deep to force oxygen into my lungs, but it doesn’t help. My head gets heavier by the second. Maybe I should finally fill my prescription since ibuprofen doesn’t cause a dent in the pain on those very rare occasions I resorted to needing some extra help to get through the day.
No.
No prescription pills.
Hate taking meds. Always have, even over-the-counter stuff like ibuprofen or cold medicine. And with the prescription migraine drugs, I’d be walking around in a fog all day. Or look like a drooling fucking zombie.
Fucking pills are just a crutch, a Band-Aid. Ones that could lead to addiction. Not going down that road. I’ve got this.
The headaches will go away. I’m okay.
But maybe...
I push myself off the couch and take a few steps toward the center of the room. I can’t believe I’m about to do this. My teammate, Lucas Craiger, swears yoga will help. Granted, his mother is a yogi. But desperate times call for desperate measures.
Leaning over with my palms splayed on the cool wood floor, I plant the soles of my feet firmly and lift the rest of my body to create an inverted “V.” Downward dog, I think Craiger called it. More like ‘ass in the air like you just don’t care’ pose. Can this be any more awkward?
Twisting my neck from side to side to chase away the ever-present crick, my gaze falls to the floor. Maybe this pose wasn’t the best idea. Nothing like noticing how the wood is more cinnamon to my right and paler in the region under my hands. Time to call Bear’s cousin again and get the floors refinished. Guy did a decent-enough job when I hired him six years ago. Well, decent by my standards. Maybe he can come the next time we are sent to training.
My stomach hardens. Wishful thinking. If the migraines don’t get better, I’m not going anywhere. Scrunching up my face, I try to remain calm, but too many things are crammed in my head, which feels like it’s stuffed with cotton. Memories from my time in Afghanistan, issues at work, my assigned wife.
I close my eyes and try to quiet my mind. Concentrating on my breathing, I inhale slowly through my nose and exhale through my mouth. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. With each breath, my muscles relax, the throbbing in my skull lessening.
“Never would have taken you for the yoga type.”
My eyelids snap open only to find Taya standing in the archway staring at me. Her eyes are scrunched together as if she is concentrating to make sense of something, and the left side of her bottom lip rests between her teeth.
I recognize that look. Hell, I’m sure I’ve had the same expression on my face at one time. She’s checking me out. I shoot upright and spin around, banging my shin into the coffee table. The blood that pooled in my head during the pose, rushes to my cheeks.
Taya stifles a laugh but doesn’t blush or glance away. Instead, she runs her gaze over me, a distinct spark of interest lighting her eyes.
I walk back to my previous spot on the couch and sit, willing the heat to drain out of my face. When was the last time I blushed? Fucking hell. “Thought you’d gone to bed.”
She huffs. “I couldn’t fall asleep. Guess I’m too used to the noise of the city. Here, I’ve just been tossing and turning almost every night. Never thought silence could be quite this loud.”
“Too much silence can be overwhelming.”
“It’s just not home.” She rocks on her heel a little, toes wiggling to keep her balance. She tilts her head back, running a hand over the archway before scratching at the paint with her fingernail.
