In the Likely Event(54)
Not going to lie, I’d been . . . relieved—about the boyfriend situation, not her parents. Not that Izzy didn’t deserve someone. She did. I was just selfishly glad that I’d get her to myself for the weekend.
Her smile was instant and heart-stoppingly beautiful. “Just wait until we get home and I make you watch Ladyhawke.”
“Your namesake?” The corners of my mouth curved. “Can’t wait.” I would sit around and watch someone read a phone book if it meant I got to be with Izzy . . . I just wasn’t sure I was going to last in this bar much longer without losing whatever was left of my sanity.
“If you could only watch one movie for the rest of your life, what would it be?” she asked.
“That’s a tough one.” My eyes met hers, and I knew what she was doing—the same thing I’d done for her on the plane, distracting me with the questions.
“Take your time.”
“Lord of the Rings: Return of the King,” I answered. “But maybe my answer will change to Ladyhawke after tonight. Who knows?”
She leaned in and brushed her mouth over mine, and every nerve in my body went on high alert. “Thank you for today.”
I threaded my fingers through her hair and pulled her in, deepening the kiss but keeping my tongue firmly behind my teeth. The first taste of her was a rush that flooded every cell in my body. Keeping myself in check was a struggle, but I managed. I wasn’t about to kiss her the way I wanted in front of all these people, so I pulled away before we headed that direction.
She smiled against my mouth as we broke apart, her hand rising to her chest. “You should feel the way my heart is pounding.” Her fingers brushed over the little lock necklace I’d bought her for her birthday. The shit that came in the little blue boxes was expensive, and she’d protested, but I figured classy girls wore classy jewelry.
“Mine too.” Maybe the admission wasn’t smooth, but I didn’t feel that kind of pressure around Izzy.
“Here you are,” the bartender said as she returned, putting our orders in front of us.
Izzy leaned back, and I instantly mourned the loss of her mouth.
“Thank you.” I put my debit card on the counter before Izzy could even try. “For a tab.”
“We won’t need a tab.” Izzy shook her head as she took the slim stem of the champagne glass between her fingers. “We’re only staying for one drink.” She glanced my way. “And thank you.”
“I’ll get your check.” The bartender nodded and took my card to the register.
“You sure about only one drink?” I lifted my brows at Izzy. “It’s your birthday. I’m down for whatever you want.”
“I don’t want to be drunk on the last night I get to have you with me.” She shrugged.
I would have argued, but I knew exactly how she felt. I wanted to remember every single second. “Happy birthday, Isabeau.” I lifted my beer.
“Thanks, Nate.” She smiled and clicked her glass against mine. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Me too.”
After the bartender brought my card back, Izzy and I sat there talking about her classes for the better part of a half hour while she sipped her champagne, and I barely touched my beer. Every time she tried to steer the conversation to how the deployment had gone for me, I carefully altered course right back to her. I tried to sit still, to focus only on her smile, her laugh, the light in her eyes, the overwhelming way I wanted her and didn’t have a damn clue what to do about it. But the walls closed in tighter and tighter, and the people came closer, reaching around us to get to the bar, bumping into my back, reaching into their pockets for . . . wallets.
Just. Wallets.
Not weapons.
Because I was stateside, not in Afghanistan.
Fuck. It wasn’t this bad last time. Then again, I hadn’t spent nine straight months in hell, facing extension after extension. Rangers were supposed to have shorter, more frequent deployments, but that hadn’t been our luck. I hadn’t been wounded this time, but I hadn’t stood in four separate formations in front of makeshift memorials of boots and rifles last time either. Hadn’t—
Not here. I took as deep of a breath as my tight chest would allow and shoved all that shit back in the box where it belonged. I glanced back at Izzy to see her watching me in that way she had, like she could cut through all the bullshit with nothing but her beautiful eyes.
“If you had to pick a zombie-apocalypse partner, who would it be?” she asked, then threw up a finger. “Present company excepted. That’s just an easy way out.”
“Rowell, I guess.” Torres would have chosen his girlfriend, and it felt wrong to deprive the man of his love life, even in a hypothetical situation. “We’ve fought our way out of some shit together.”
“Fair answer. Now, let’s get out of here,” she said.
“You haven’t finished your drink.” There was no way I was forcing her out of her birthday celebration because I couldn’t hold myself together.
She rolled her eyes, downed the last quarter of the glass, and set it on the counter. “I have officially finished the drink you promised Serena.” Slipping off her barstool, she held out her hand for mine. “And I’d honestly rather spend the rest of my night at home. With you.”