Page 5 of Quarantined With the Soldier

Chapter Three

When they walked inside, Ava was suddenly very aware of how small her house was. It was cozy, to be sure, but the two-bedroom ranch style home was designed for her. It wasn’t designed for a big, strong soldier like Dylan. It certainly wasn’t designed to be quarantined with him for a long time.

Not that two weeks was a long time.

Not in the grand scheme of things.

Oh, it wasn’t going to be the best experience.

Sure.

It wasn’t going to be sunshine and roses and rainbows and happiness.

She wasn’t an idiot.

She got that.

The problem was that Dylan and Ava had been exposed, which meant they were potentially able to infect other people. They’d be quarantined for two weeks and then, as long as they didn’t show any symptoms, they’d be able to return to their real lives.

Good.

That was what she wanted.

Dylan looked around the little house and nodded appreciatively.

“Pretty,” he said.

“Really?”

“Really. I like the pictures.”

He gestured to the paintings and portraits that lined her walls. She had a really eclectic sense of style and everything looked like of cool and wonderful. Nothing was in its proper order, either. Everything about her space was, well, a little bit crazy.

That was who she was, though. She was wild and crazy and stunning and fun. She was happy and she was joyful. She didn’t like for her art to be restrictive, so she liked creating places where she could relax and really feel at home.

Her house was one of those places.

She had lots of room to bake and plenty of room to paint and be artistic. Her house was designed to keep her constantly in the mood to make new things.

Would Dylan be able to appreciate that?

Could he understand something like this?

She wasn’t under the impression that her lifestyle was something a lot of people could handle, especially not someone like Dylan.

“So,” she said. “The military.”

“The military,” he agreed, nodding.

“Are you…”

“Still enlisted?”

“Yeah.”

“Nope,” he shook his head. “I’m a free man. I mean, I don’t think getting out is something that you ever really get over.”

“What do you mean?”

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