His door opened, and the aroma of marinara drifted out. “Luna.”
“You cooked?” I stepped inside, my shoulder brushing against his chest.
Axel's expression was vulnerable as he snagged the beer from my grip. “I wasn't sure what you'd like. I hope you eat lasagna.”
“I love it.” The place looked freshly vacuumed and dusted.
He let out a breath. “That's good.”
I smelled garlic bread and a tossed salad sat on the counter. There was even a vase of flowers on the table. “You bought flowers?”
Axel shrugged, his face pink. “It added to the ambiance. The way it is, my kitchen isn't exactly inviting.” He opened the oven to check on the lasagna and then asked, “Did you bring your ideas?”
I pulled my tablet out of my bag and set it on the counter.
Axel swiped it and put it somewhere behind him on the counter. “We'll talk after we eat.”
That made this feel more like a date for some reason. I wanted to bring up the design ideas before dinner to separate what this was. I let out a shaky breath.
He cut the loaf of garlic bread, setting the slices on a platter and placing it on the table. He poured the beer into glasses, and then grabbed plates and bowls.
Instead of asking to help, I moved to take the bowls from him, dishing the salad into them.
Axel moved around the kitchen with jerky movements.
Was he nervous? Did he think this was a date? Was he attracted to me? That was the last thing I needed. I should have been focused on the job, not the man behind it.
A timer went off on the microwave, and Axel moved to take the casserole dish out of the oven. “It should be done.”
“There's only one way to find out.”
Axel dished the lasagna onto the plates. Had he gone home for holidays, or had he missed those things with his family over the years?
“This is nice. Other than cooking for the occasional boyfriend, I don't get opportunities to sit down and eat like this.”
Axel shot me a grateful look. “Me either. It's solo eating or the mess hall for me.”
“Is it nice to be on your own? Not having anyone to tell you what to do?” I asked, slicing into the perfect square of my lasagna. Axel must do everything with precision. It made me wonder if he'd be methodical when it came to sex or whether he'd let go. I hoped it was the latter.
His shoulders tightened, and I realized I'd hit on a sore spot for him.
“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pried.”
He cleared his throat, still looking uneasy. “It's fine.”
It wasn't fine. I covered his hand with mine, and as soon as I felt the warmth, snatched it away. “Forget I said anything.”
He was quiet for a few seconds and then said, “It's weird. I'm not used to it.”
My palm still tingled from the contact with his hand. “I'm sure that's common. Have you talked to any of your other friends who've left the military?”
He shifted in his seat. “Not really.”
“Maybe that would help?” Because I couldn't help him with this. I could only imagine what it would be like to be involved in one way of life, then have it come to an end.
I hadn't experienced anything like it. I'd left the island for college, returned home on breaks, and moved back after graduation. I'd felt blessed at the time, but now I wasn't so sure. Had my circumstances kept me tied to the island when my friends had more freedom?
“Maybe.” Axel's answer was noncommittal.