Page 31 of Cooper

Yes, I’m committed to the military and my country. That’s a given. But it’s notpersonal. There is no one specific person I’m protecting. It’s more about the American way of life, democracy, that kind of thing. I don’t personally protect the president or his family. I don’t usually protect any individuals. So it’s a new concept for me.

I open my computer and answer a few emails, avoiding the one from my commanding officer asking if I have a timetable to return to duty yet. The doctor here at the palace is in contact with a doctor in the States, and I’m weeks, potentially a couple of months, from being able to return to any semblance of normal physical activity.

And that’s both good and bad.

I’m happy to be able to spend time with Natalia because going home to my mom’s, or to my sad little apartment, sounds like a different kind of torture.

Except I barely get to see Natalia, so I’m bored out of my mind.

“Hey.” Natalia comes in at a quarter after seven and gives me a tired smile. “How was your day?”

“Oh, you know. Napping and playing on the computer is hard work.”

“Are you bored? You must be feeling better.”

“Definitely better than before.”

“I’m glad.” She comes over and sits beside me. “Do you feel like having dinner with the others or would you rather it just be us? We can have something delivered to the room or we can go down to what we call the dining room. It’s really a conference room that was transformed to an area where groups of us can eat, so anyone who doesn’t feel like eating alone usually heads up there.”

“You and I wouldn’t be alone, and frankly, I’d like to spend some alone time together.”

“All right. I’m going to change and then we can figure out what to eat.” She digs some sweats out of her closet and starts undressing.

Fuck.

She’s still beautiful.

Sexy.

And my cock seems to agree, as he starts to take notice.

She puts on some kind of sports bra thing, a T-shirt, and then a pair of lightweight sweats.

“I hope the bra isn’t on my account,” I say drolly.

She glances over her shoulder. “No, it’s regulation.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“With the amount of attacks we’ve had, we’ve been told to sleep in the least amount of clothing you could wear to be comfortable but still make it easier to get dressed in the event something happens in the middle of the night. This is my least restrictive sports bra, a T-shirt that’s two sizes too big, and comfy sweats. I take them off when I sleep, but I’ll keep the bra, panties, and T-shirt on.”

“Jesus.” I run a hand through my hair. “It’s really twenty-four-seven, huh?”

“It is.” She types something into her phone. “Okay, tonight the cook has Hungarian-style goulash with fresh bread, vegetable lasagna, and she can always grill a burger or boil some pasta. Otherwise, there are sandwiches, salads, and she keeps chicken soup on hand.”

“Goulash and fresh bread sound good.”

“Great. I’ll order two.” She types on her phone, and I watch in fascination.

“So…you have the equivalent of room service here?” I ask.

She chuckles. “With a limited menu, yes. Cook makes two options every night, like goulash and lasagna, and then the staples. If you really want pizza, she has them frozen and can throw one in for you. Sandwiches, salads, and soup are always available. If you go down and flirt with her, she’ll probably make you anything you want. And she’s sixty-three and married, so flirting is both tolerated and expected.”

I chuckle. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

She stretches out on the bed and lets out a long sigh.

“Tired?”

---