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“I also thought my tie might come in handy.”
I nearly stumbled at his words. Lucas managed to shock me at almost every turn, and I had to admit the idea was an enticing one. Being tied up? By him?
“Cold?” he asked.
It was a warm fall evening, so no. “Not cold,” I admitted.
His smile told me Lucas understood perfectly. And now, so did I. As we walked up the porch of the first cottage on the lake, some for rental and others where the Grado siblings actually lived, I could see a table for two all set for dinner, complete with candlelight.
“Lucas.”
What a sight. It was easily the most romantic thing I’d ever seen.
“Charlee.”
At the foot of the stairs that led to the porch, Lucas stepped back and raised our joined hands as a gesture for me to go on ahead of him.
Taking two steps up, I turned. Looked back. Lucas stood there still, watching me.
“Tonight,” he said, his tone almost wistful and very un-Lucas-like. “We start from the beginning.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
lucas
Marco had hit it out of the park.
When he’d come into the shop about getting some ink, I’d found myself talking about Charlee, knowing he’d gone through some similar relationship problems. I’d told him I wanted to make it up to her, start fresh, one thing led to another, and Marco and I came up with this plan.
Typically, he’d said, all of the cottages were filled this time of year. But a cancellation this weekend had left this one open. The meal I’d arranged with a little help from Owen, who knew the owner of a local restaurant pretty well. A hefty tip to set it all up was worth the look on Charlee’s face now as I held out her chair.
“Because I know you still like chicken parmigiana,” I said, taking off the metal cover that kept it warm.
“Very much.”
I sat, poured us both wines, and uncovered my own meal.
“I’ve been doing some research,” Charlee said. “About your job in the Army.”
“Have you now? What’ve you learned?”
Charlee detailed what she’d read about sniper school and the high level of training involved. I had to admit, it was pretty cute her tossing out phrases like “ten clicks out” and “insert at night to build your position,” even if some of the things she talked about weren’t really a thing. Clearly, she’d taken an interest in my job, though, and it was endearing.
“Ghillie wash. Is that a real thing?”
“It is,” I said, as I just finished chewing. Though the lake was mostly dark, a handful of boat lights reminded us that we were indeed waterside. “A ghillie wash tests the strength and durability of a sniper’s ghillie suit and weathers it to be sure it can effectively blend into your surroundings.”
“A ghillie suit. Vegetation, leaves. That sort of thing.”
“Exactly. But the suit is only a part of it. You have to manage your tracks, scent, shadow, glare, and a lot of other things to stay hidden.”
“It sounds incredibly. . . dangerous.”
“Just part of the job.”
I could tell there was something more she wanted to ask. And I had a feeling I knew what it was. If we were going to start over, trusting Charlee had to be a part of the deal.
“Go ahead,” I prompted. “Ask.”
