Page 29 of Rescued Hearts

Inside, he swept his gaze over the space, marking windows, exits and noting anyone he knew among the guests seated at the quaint tables.

He gave one man a nod as he passed by a table. Honor slowed her steps in response, and he placed a hand on the small of her back to guide her to the table the host led them to.

Her spine stiffened a bit at the touch, but she didn’t protest. Her dress was silkier than it appeared, gliding against the bare skin underneath. It made him think of how it would feel to slide his hand lower and explore the curve of her round ass.

The twitch of her hips drove him crazier with each step toward their table. When they finally reached the small table for two in the back of the room as he requested when he phoned in the reservation, relief swept over him. He didn’t know how much more of that twitch he could endure without yanking her against him so she could feel how damn hard she made him.

Once they were seated with drinks in hand—a glass of white wine for Honor and a beer for him—Gray studied her.

A flickering candle in a glass holder cast a golden glow over her skin and made her eyes dance. He responded by doing something that was rare for him—he rested back in his seat and smiled at her.

She lifted her glass to her lips and sipped the wine. “You look pleased with yourself.”

That made his lips quirk more. “I am.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And why is that?”

He brought his beer to his lips. “Because I chose the best beer on tap. Of course.”

“Ah.” She pursed her lips around her glass again, giving him a tight squeezing sensation in his gut.

After they ordered, she propped her chin on her laced fingers and studied him. “So what made you go into the military?”

Her question jolted him, but he didn’t let her see that. “Looks like someone did their homework.”

“Felicity told me.”

“Ah. Well, I guess I joined up out of a sense of honor. My brothers enlisted before me. You could say it was a family thing.”

“Was your father in the military too?”

He kept his expression neutral, but any talk of his father usually got squashed by him or any other Malone who didn’t want to discuss their asshole sperm donor.

“No. He wasn’t.”

Her gaze never wavered from his face. “But it became more than that.”

Skimming his fingers over the condensation on the beer glass, he wondered just how much Felicity knew about his family—how much she knew about him, or why he’d left the Navy.

Then he shook himself. He could count on two fingers the number of people who knew exactly what his reasons were—oneof them was his therapist and the other was the new guy—Crew—back at the ranch.

He carefully avoided the dark stuff. Not because he didn’t trust her—because he didn’t want to see her look at him differently, as she surely would if she knew.

Instead, he gave her the best stories of his time in the service. He shared his travels, anecdotes about the men he worked with and a tale or two about the camaraderie.

Intently, she listened, asking appropriate questions to keep him talking. Then he turned the conversation to her.

“What about you? What made you start a jewelry business?”

“It began as a hobby. I was working retail at the time, and it was a way to be creative in a dull, dead-end job. It was something to do with my hands. Soon, I realized people actually wanted to buy the things I made.”

“That’s great.” He could see the passion in her eyes.

“I started selling at local flea markets and festivals. Before long, I was selling out at every festival I traveled to.”

“Is that why you have the van?”

Mention of her unique ride made her light up even more. She glowed like a sunbeam as she spoke about her travels and the living quarters she created in the back of her van.

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