Page 50 of Forged By Sacrifice

“No!” I said with too much intensity, and she caught on like only sisters can do.

“But you wanted to.”

I rubbed my forehead and turned back to the report on the number of fishing boats in the state of Delaware and the impact on the local economy from their slow demise.

“She’s pretty incredible. Almost too good for you, but not quite,” Dani said, continuing to push the matter.

“Back off, Gooberpants.” I looked up in time to see her stick her tongue out at me at the nickname I rarely called her anymore. “We already talked about this.”

“Like I already said, she doesn’t have to be the one you stick a ring on, Robbie. But I can see you having a good time together. You haven’t really dated anyone except?”

“Don’t!”

“Okay, I won’t say it. I’m just saying, dating her would give you practice. Get you out of the single-man dance.”

“You’re telling me to date her, knowing I can’t plan a future with her.”

“It’s just dating.”

“I thought all women wanted was a potential forever from the men they dated.”

“Maybe in the 1950s.”

She went back to her report, and I tried to read mine, but all I could see was Georgie’s pale, jade-colored eyes. Her real color. The way they’d clouded over with emotion when I’d rubbed her arm last night. The way she’d looked at my lips as if she’d wanted to kiss them. We were definitely battling an attraction stronger than I’d ever felt before.

I tossed the report on the desk.

“Some of this stuff seems so…”

“Mundane?”

“No. I mean, I know it’s important to the people in our state. I’m just used to things that are…”

“More life and death?”

“Stop doing that.”

“What?”

“Finishing my sentences. It’s weird.”

“It’s the job.”

“Finishing my sentences is the job?” I teased.

She rolled her eyes. “I know it’s not the same as the stuff you did at the DoD, but this is also life and death for some people. Our state really needs a revitalization of the fishing industry.”

I nodded. She was right on all counts. It did seem less critical in many ways, but I also understood that what I was reading about meant a lot to the families whose lives depended on fishing. It meant a house and food on the table. But it did seem less critical than the things I’d dealt with when planning black ops.

“I’m going to go get a coffee. Do you want anything?” I asked, standing.

“Chocolate.”

“Any specific kind of chocolate?”

“You’ll know it when you see it.”

“That’s trusting me with a lot. I remember bringing you back an Almond Joy one time, and you chucked it at me.”

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