“I tried to replicate the kennels where the SEAL teams kept their dogs,” she said. “On a smaller scale, of course.”
“You did a kick-ass job.” The place was amazing. How she’d pulled it together in only a few months, while working to secure the funds from the bank, astonished him.
“When Darren was home, I would ask him to draw sketches of the kennels Jango lived in. He also made lists of changes he wanted to make and things he’d keep the same. And I added some of my own ideas, too.”
Mark paused and leaned against the entry to a modern, brand-new veterinary exam room.
“You should be proud of yourself.”
Her lips curved, offering a hint of a smile. “I am.”
“Are you planning to head out with the guys tonight?” He stepped into the exam room, closer to her. After seeing her in her underwear, he knew he should keep his distance. But he couldn’t do it. “To Tall Pines Tavern?”
“I might drop by. I think the puppies are old enough now to be left alone for an hour or two. Maybe I’ll see if Mrs. Benton can stop in and check on them.”
“How about I take you to dinner first?” he said, running his hand over the metal table’s smooth surface. “Toast your success.”
Amy blinked. Shit, he’d surprised her. Too late to take it back now. He kept his gaze fixed on her, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jango stand. The animal looked ready to attack. It was as if he’d understood Mark’s words but misinterpreted his intentions. This was just dinner between two friends. And that was all they’d ever be—friends.
* * *
AMY STARED AT MARK as if he was speaking a foreign language. She’d eaten dinner with Mark hundreds of times. But there was something about this invitation that sent her mind spiraling back to the flash of longing she’d seen in his eyes earlier. The thought of sitting across from him, sharing a meal, his attention focused on her...
“I...um...yes. Okay,” she said, feeling like a giddy schoolgirl.
He nodded. “Is Lucia’s Italian place still open?”
“It is. But I think they changed their sauce. It’s too sweet now. There’s a new Mexican place in town that makes the best enchiladas.”
“Your night, your choice.”
“Mexican it is.” Amy led Mark back into the kennel’s central hall. “But I need to finish up a few things first. Check with the guys. I’ll come find you in an hour.”
Mark nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”
He headed for the exit, his hands shoved in his pockets. She had a lot to do before dinner, but she didn’t move until the door closed behind him. It felt good, seeing him in the flesh instead of on a screen. And the fact that he, of all people, understood what she was trying to do here—that meant so much.
Amy turned and moved toward the sound of hammers pounding, planning to tell the Benton brothers to call it quits for the day But she stopped out of sight of where the brothers were working and closed her eyes. She felt Jango sit by her side and press up against her leg. Reaching down, she touched the dog’s head.
Part of her still felt married and that even the smallest hint of desire was a betrayal. But Darren was gone. And eighteen months was a long time. Moving forward—she was allowed to want that, wasn’t she?
“I’ve waited,” she whispered. “For so long.”
In high school, she’d waited for Darren to notice her. After that she’d waited for him to ask her out and, later, marry her. Then she’d waited three hundred days out of every year for him to come home.
She’d put her dream business on hold because Darren wasn’t ready to quit his SEAL team. After his death, she’d waited for the grief to fade, knowing only time would help her heal. And it had. But now, after spending the past twelve years in a holding pattern, she was done waiting.
Jango turned his head up, licking the palm of her hand. “Even if I am ready to put myself out there and start dating, Mark isn’t the guy,” she whispered.
Yes, he was gorgeous—especially with his shirt off. But that didn’t change the fact that he’d been her husband’s best friend.
FOR THE FIRST TIME in months, Amy felt full. Enchiladas, chips, guacamole—she’d devoured all of it while discussing her plans for the kennel. Mark sat opposite her, listening and occasionally surveying the restaurant.
Amy studied the collar of his button-down shirt peeking out from underneath his sweater. When had he started wearing dress shirts? He’d always been a T-shirt kind of guy. Maybe a sweatshirt or flannel in the colder months. Nothing that drew attention. And in Heart’s Landing a button-down in a place where no one dressed for dinner was bound to make people look twice. She’d already caught half a dozen diners, mostly women, glancing their way.
Or maybe it had nothing to do with his shirt. At six-four, Mark towered over most men. A sweater and dress shirt didn’t exactly hide his broad chest and powerful arms. Of course, she’d seen those muscles stripped bare...
She pushed the thought away and tried to focus on the here and now.
“You look nice.” She waved at his collar. “Fancy shirt.”
Mark shrugged. “I travel light, especially when I know I won’t be back long. And I wanted to look decent for your opening.”
Back, not home. Didn’t he still consider Heart’s Landing home? If not here, where? His words sank in further. He was leaving again soon. She’d known that from day one. Mark had a month’s leave at most, and he hadn’t said how much of that time he planned to spend in Oregon. But still, hearing him say it thrust her into the past. She’d hated the goodbyes, could still feel the dread.
“You could wear your dress uniform,” she said, scraping the last of the guacamole from the bowl even though her appetite had vanished.
“I will if you’d prefer. But I figured you already had Gabe walking around in his navy whites. Plus Luke and T.J. in their dress uniforms.”
And Mark had always been more comfortable in the background. In high school, he’d been a star on the football team—and an attractive one with his wavy brown hair and rich brown eyes. He’d drawn half the cheerleading squad’s attention. Yet, he’d always hung back.
“Wear whatever you’re comfortable in. I’m just glad you’re here.” She polished off her last chip and pushed the bowl away.
“You were hungry. We could always order another.”
“I can’t eat another bite. But if you want more, go ahead.”
Mark shook his head, his eyes darting to the door and back. She wanted to reassure him that nothing bad was likely to happen in their quiet little town. But she suspected he already knew that.
“How does it feel to be here?” she asked gently. “The transition from Afghanistan to a sleepy town in the middle of nowhere has to be a culture shock.”
“Like I’ve walked into the past,” he said grimly.
“Not much changes here,” she acknowledged. “Mrs. Marlowe is still running the general store. And half of the people in town head over to Tall Pines to drink and dance every night. Not that I go much, but Eloise drags me in every so often. Most people haven’t changed since high school, just aged a bit, gotten married and had babies.”
She was rambling on and on, but she wanted to lighten the mood. If Mark needed to