“Get your mind out of the gutter, Mur. I’m talking about self-defense. Today, in the base gym. It has the matts and punching bag and enough warriors on hand to make sure things don’t get too...heated.” He paused, his glowing green eyes laser-focused on her face. “So, what do you say? Are you ready for this?
It was a direct challenge. Unapologetic. Unsubtle.
And her response would either redirect their relationship into romance, or into coparenting friends.
She didn’t hesitate. The conversation about matchmaking among Olivia’s friends the other night, or rather her response to the conversation, had told her exactly what she wanted.
O’Neill seemed to feel the same way.
However, it wouldn’t hurt to slow his roll, give them both some breathing room.
“Yes.” Her voice was steady. “But I can’t do today. I need to catch the next flight down to The Neighborhood to clean up after Penny.” His gaze narrowed as he searched her face. Did he think she was chickening out? Not a chance. “I really am heading down, next chopper in fact. You know I rescued a peacock, right? Anyway, peafowl are incredibly messy birds. Lots of droppings. Since Penny is living in Olivia and Samuel’s garage, I clean up after her every couple of days. Plus, Penny gets lonely.” The suspicion faded from his eyes. “Although not as much now that Trident visits her so often.”
And she was rambling now. Annoyed with herself, she clamped her mouth shut up.
“Trident?” He looked surprised. “Demi’s cat? I thought she kept him locked up.”
“He’s been sneaking out. Mostly to visit Penny.”
“Must be looking for a snack.”
Muriel didn’t think so. While the cat had acted predatory at first, the past few times she’d caught him hanging around Penny, he’d just looked fascinated rather than hungry.
O’Neill lifted his wrist, checking his watch. “When does your ride leave?”
“An hour.”
His gaze drifted back to her face and lingered. “Just enough time for lunch. You want to join me at the mess hall?”
The question brought warmth back to her face; from there, it spread down her throat, chest, and into her belly. “I’d like that.”
He gestured toward one of the utility vehicles parked to their right, but she shook her head.
“Can we walk? It’s not that far. I’ll call Gracie, see if she’s free.”
He took the outside of the walkway and adjusted his stride to hers. “How is Gracie?”
“Committed. To the conditioning routine you developed for her.” Muriel offered him a bemused smile. “I’ve never seen her so driven to—”
She broke off, stopping dead. Ahead, in the middle of the thoroughfare, stood a tall, lean figure. A translucent figure. She recognized the way it stood, the tilt of its head, the jut of its proud chin—so much like Samuel’s. And the shape and color of its eyes, so much like her own.
Daniel...her son. Her translucent, dead son.
A utility vehicle came round the corner and drove right through it. The translucent image exploded in particles of dark and light, leaving nothing but sorrow behind.
“What’s wrong?” O’Neill asked, his gaze following the direction she was looking.
“Nothing.” But the denial was hoarse...raw. And that gritty, barren blizzard started wailing through her again.
“Muriel—”
“Do you believe in ghosts?” she asked. The question broke from her before she could stop it, half hopeful...half desperate.
“Ghosts.” He repeated. He scanned her face and then looked toward where she was staring again. “Why?”
“I think Daniel’s spirit is stuck on base. I sense him often. Even see him occasionally.”
“You saw him just now?”
