Most NHSC students served near their hometowns. If they were adventurous, they fulfilled their obligation elsewhere, but often returned to where they were from.
But Mariah didn't have a home, did she? Well, she did, technically, but no way would she ever go back there.
As she listened to Vaughn chat about his childhood, growing up on the ranch with loving parents and pesky siblings and getting into trouble in school here in Copper River, he painted a picture of what she had missed. A home base. A place where she fit. Even though Vaughn had moved to New York City, he still saw this place as home.
Even gone for a year, he was part of this town and the people in it.
Where did she belong, truly?
Not with her last boyfriend, whose view of a future wife's role didn't involve an independent, smart woman. And that future sure as heck didn't include a woman who moonlighted as an MMA ringside doctor. To him, nothing could be more lowbrow. In retrospect, forget him. She was better off alone than with that guy.
But the slice her ex made about her not fitting in with his big, wealthy family because of her past and her career? That comment cut deep. Too deep.
"Am I boring you?"
She startled, her cheeks warming. "Of course not." Vaughn, boring? It was a testament to how unsettled those thoughts made her that she couldn't concentrate on the intense guy sitting on the other side of the table.
"Good. Because... just good." His brown and gold gaze raked across her.
Her heart thumped under the intensity of the space between his words.
For some reason, she couldn't stop looking at the sensual slash of his mouth, oddly soft in his hard face.
The food arrived. Thank God for something to do other than gape at the guy. She dove right in, enjoying the pop of bacon and starchy fried goodness of the hash browns.
Vaughn finished his tiny meal in a few bites and then watched her in silence.
She paused, fork halfway to her mouth. "You want some of mine? That look you're giving my plate... it's like you want to telepathically eat the whole thing."
He leaned back, eyelids half-mast. Vinyl booth material creaked as his weight shifted. "Not what I was thinking at all." With a quick buff of the apple on his shirt, he bit into the fruit with a too-loud crack, all while keeping his focus on her. The way the muscles in his jaw moved as he chewed shouldn't have looked sexy.
But it did.
Oh.
Was it warm in here, or did she have too many layers on? She tugged at the neckline of her sweater.
Nope. No layers.
In for a penny. She set her utensil down. "Care to share what you were thinking, then?" Could he see her sweating? Man. This brunch was higher pressure than an interview.
He took another bite. "No." A bit of apple pulp clung to his firm lower lip.
"P-pardon?" If he didn't brush that piece off, she'd do it herself. With her mouth.
Stop it.
"No." Abruptly he sat forward, arms on the table, leaning close to her. He licked his lip. Apple piece gone. "No. As in, what I'm thinking as I watch you polish off a delectable breakfast should best wait for a second date. Or maybe a third."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, oh." He gestured with the apple and leaned back again, resting the same arm over his broad chest. "Don't let me interrupt your meal. The sooner you finish, the sooner I can ask you out again."
Hungry? Sure, she was hungry, but for something other than the food on the plate in front of her.
Her phone rang, making her jump. Sliding out of the booth, she fished the phone from a coat pocket. "Sorry," she said.
With another laconic crunch that made her jealous of the fruit, he waved for her to go ahead.
