Page 77 of The SEAL and the Sheriff

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“That’s not nothing.”

“It smells delicious. I didn’t know you could cook.”

Hudson’s head dipped before she saw too much on his face. “Eat.”

He took the chair opposite. Enough distance that she wouldn’t feel crowded, but she wished he’d chosen the couch beside her.

They ate in silence with the coffee table between them and the case sitting in every space where conversation should have been. Sarah lasted three bites before hunger arrived all at once.

He’d been right.

Again.

She ate everything, then wiped her bowl with a wedge of the crusty bread he’d bought.

Afterward, he made coffee. She closed her eyes when she sipped. “Sugar. You remembered.”

“Some things.”

Her gaze lifted to his. For a second, everything in the room held still.

“I bought six different coffees.” He shrugged. “I don’t know what brand you drink.”

Sarah took another sip, lifted one shoulder. “This one works.”

Today Hudson had filled her fridge, cooked for her, bought her flowers and somehow managed to make none of it feel like pity. She wasn’t sure what to do with that.

She wrapped both hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into fingers that still hadn’t quite decided whether they belonged to her again. “Tell me what you haven’t told me.”

Hudson looked up from his coffee. “You should be resting.”

“I am resting.” She relaxed further into the couch. “I’m sitting down.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“It is today.” Something in her voice must have reached him because he didn’t argue again.

Someone had tried to kill her. Her truck had been towed to the garage and was waiting for the insurance company. She was done pretending this wasn’t her case.

“Someone ran me off the road,” she said. “So stop protecting me with half-truths.”

Outside, the wind rattled lightly through the trees.

Hudson stared into his mug for so long she wondered if he’d answer at all. “I served with Cord.”

She waited.

“We were running an op in the South China Sea. We had solid intel on a weapons network moving military-grade hardware through the islands. Missiles. Explosives. Enough firepower to make a lot of people nervous.” He turned his mug on the table, not drinking from it. “Cord was on my team. Good operator. One of the best I’d worked with.”

“Was.”

“Was.” He blinked. “We were tracing the supply chain and locating the weapons cache.”

“And Cord?”