An Officer And Her Gentleman. Amy Woods

the living room, and his eyes were nearly the same shade of brown. He reminded her of a rakish lord from one of the historical romances she devoured at an incredible pace, one of the few pastimes that allowed her to completely escape the bleak hollows of her own thoughts.

      It wouldn’t be inaccurate to describe him as devilishly handsome, she thought, a smile blossoming over her lips before she caught herself and bit the bottom one.

      He caught her smiling and she pretended to study Jane’s fur, the heat of a blush rushing to her cheeks. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt drawn to someone that way, much less blushed over a man, for goodness’ sake. She’d had a few boyfriends before her first deployment, but it always seemed sort of futile to get into something serious when she’d been on active duty, never knowing when she might have to pack up and leave at last-minute notice. Sure, lots of people made it work, as her mother constantly reminded her, probably with visions of more grandbabies dancing through her head, but Avery had seen enough hurt in that area to last a lifetime.

      She swallowed against the dull ache that rose in her heart every time the memory of her best friend crossed her mind, at least a thousand times per day—her punishment for being alive when Sophie was not. Sophie, who’d left behind a husband and child who blamed Avery for Sophie’s absence in their lives. It didn’t matter whether it had been Avery’s fault or not—the center of their world was gone, and Avery had been the last one to see her.

      It was Avery who’d promised them she’d watch over their wife and mother, and it was Avery who failed to keep that promise.

      She felt Isaac’s eyes on her and looked up to meet them.

      “You’re right about it not being a good idea to walk back in the dark,” she admitted. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to stick around until the sun comes up, then I’ll head back that way.”

      If Isaac’s house was as close to Tommy’s as he’d said, it would take her less than ten minutes to jog back at daybreak, and she could slip in the back door and make it into her bed before anyone tried to wake her. Tommy would be making coffee and Macy would be busy with the kids.

      He nodded. “Not a problem. If you passed Jane’s character test, then you’re welcome to stick around as long as you need to,” he said, his tone lighter now. “On one condition.”

      Avery stopped petting Jane and raised an eyebrow in question.

      “Let me cook something for you.”

       Chapter Three

      As he waited for her answer, Isaac glanced at the grandfather clock near the hallway, one of the many things he’d been unable to part with when Nana had willed the old ranch-style home to him a couple of years ago. Its iron hands indicated the hour was near two o’clock in the morning.

      They had plenty of time for a bite before daylight when Avery would leave and go back to Dewberry—a thought that, had he more time to entertain, he might have admitted he didn’t much care for. He liked the quiet comfort and surrounding memories of the house he’d spent so many happy summers in as a child, and most of the time he was okay with the fact that he lived in the country and didn’t entertain a lot of visitors, but there were times when he got lonely. Even though Jane was one hell of a listener, she didn’t do much in the way of talking.

      It was nice to have a woman in his home. He liked the way Avery’s presence added a certain softness to the atmosphere, and he found himself caring whether or not she liked the place.

      “I’m not really very hungry,” she answered, earning a pointed look from him.

      “Come on, now. I’m a very good cook. I’m famous for my barbecue, but I can make a mean sandwich in a pinch. Seriously, call your brother and ask him,” Isaac joked, regretting the words when he saw they’d caused her to wince. Tommy had mentioned, of course, that he had a sister who’d recently come home after a few tours in Afghanistan, but since they’d never been introduced or run into each other anywhere in town—which was odd in itself—Isaac hadn’t given much thought to the mysterious female Abbott. He and Tommy crossed paths frequently, as the farm always provided food for the events Isaac hosted on behalf of his dog training center, Friends with Fur, but he’d never once seen Avery.

      He wouldn’t have forgotten her if he had.

      The locals talked about her enough; they all had theories about how she might be doing now that she was back, what kind of girl she’d been growing up and—these comments were always in hushed tones accented with the sympathetic clicking of tongues—how she wasn’t quite right anymore, bless her heart. But in Isaac’s line of work, he’d learned to withhold judgment until he got to know someone.

      And he knew that when broken people kept to themselves, holed up behind walls built to keep out hurt, eventually their family and friends, even the closest ones, stopped asking the hard questions and accepted the new, hollow versions, forgetting that at one time those wounded people were whole.

      He got up from his chair and moved toward the couch to scratch Janie’s pink tummy, which she’d shamelessly turned over and exposed so that Avery could have the esteemed privilege of rubbing it.

      He raised his eyes and watched as Avery pet Jane, admiring the way the dog’s gentle serenity seemed to seep into the woman’s weary bones.

      “Tell you what—I had a long day and I’m hungry, so I’m going to start up a grilled cheese sandwich.” He watched Avery for any change in her expression, but her features remained still. “You’re welcome to join me if you want to, and I’d be happy to make two.”

      She raised her eyes then and he was reminded of how blue they were, like shadowy mountaintops at dusk.

      “I wasn’t always like this, you know,” Avery said, her voice so quiet he wasn’t sure the words were meant for him to hear.

      Even though her gaze was on his, Isaac could tell her thoughts were far off somewhere he couldn’t reach. He’d seen the same look on many of the veterans he worked with at the training facility, and he’d learned not to push too hard. Sometimes it was best to stay silent and let the person decide how much he or she wanted to say or not say.

      “I used to be strong. Independent.” She glanced away. “I can’t tell you how humiliating it is to be sitting here in your house, having to trust your word on how I got here.”

      Isaac’s insides ached at her admission and he had the sudden urge to reach out and hold her hand. He wouldn’t, but he wanted to.

      He’d always had an easier time relating to canines than to his own kind, a product of being homeschooled by a widowed young mom who’d been overwhelmed by the world outside their door, with only his older brother and a series of family pets to keep him company. He would never complain about his childhood. After all, it had been safer and saner than many of his friends’ and colleagues’, but it had also been lonely.

      Ever since he’d moved away briefly for college and then come home to start a business, Isaac had longed for a family of his own. He wanted life to be much different from the way he’d been raised; he wanted kiddos running around shouting happily, dogs barking joyfully and, above all, lots and lots of laughter.

      Most people wanted quiet when they came home at the end of a long workday, he thought with a chuckle, but Isaac craved noise.

      He wasn’t sure what he could say, but he gave it a try anyway. “I know I don’t know you, so my saying so doesn’t mean much, but you have nothing to be embarrassed by.”

      He looked up in time to see Avery shaking her head, but he went on, sharing things he rarely got a chance to. “You served your country with honor, and I can bet you dealt with a lot of things no one should ever have to, but that doesn’t mean you’re different than any other human being. People aren’t meant to be around the things I’m sure you were, and come out the same on the other side. War is bound to do some damage to a person’s soul. I don’t think anyone