“Uh-huh.”

Boys. Shaking her head, Kara went to answer the door, and let in the babysitter.

The babysitter, of course, was the most gorgeous man she’d ever met. Graham’s dusky skin and perma-shadow from stubble made her think of pirates sailing the high seas. His hair was always a little longer than most, and probably skirted the edges of regulations. And he was tall, so tall. She’d also seen the man move. He was a true athlete, even with a yoga mat. He made her feel smart, listened to what she said and treated her like a lady.

He must be kept at arm’s length at all times.

“Graham.” She opened the door all the way and let him in. “I’m so sorry you got roped into coming over here.”

“No big. I had to be out of my place for a while, anyway.” He stood inside her tiny living room, making the room shrink just with his presence. He turned a three-sixty to take in the small space. “Nice.”

“It’s small, but it works for us,” she said, biting her tongue at the defensiveness. He’d just complimented the space, hadn’t he?

“Hmm,” was all he said, and stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets. “Where’s the squirt?”

“Zach’s in his room, reading. He might come out, or not. He’s big on reading though, and when he goes into the zone, it’s hard to break.” She waited for some taunt, some egghead joke, something that she could take and mull over, something to make her not like him so much.

“Cool. Lucky you, getting a kid who likes reading.”

Dammit. Would the man stop being so damn perfect? With a frostier tone than was warranted, she pointed toward the kitchen. “Emergency numbers are on the fridge. He has an EpiPen in the medicine cabinet, which I put a Post-it Note on so you don’t have to dig for it. He knows how to administer it himself, but the instructions are on the box. If you have a minute and want to read through them, that would be great. I also put a list of his allergens on the fridge next to the numbers. He hasn’t eaten dinner yet, but he can make his own. Please don’t feed him anything from outside the house. If you’re hungry though, you can order a pizza or whatever. Just make sure he doesn’t get tempted and have any.” It was the same spiel she’d given all his babysitters since he was fourteen months old and popped positive on his first allergy test for, well, almost everything.

Graham looked offended, his dark eyes flashing. “I’m not ordering a pizza to eat it in front of him when he can’t have a slice. That’s cruel. I’ll have what he’s having.”

“You might regret that. It’s going to be sun butter and jelly on special, not-normal bread,” she warned. No matter what, she still couldn’t get used to non-peanut butters. But she ate them for her son’s sake. Too bad they were twice as expensive.

“I’ll make the squirt make me a sandwich. If he can eat it, I can eat it. Guys can eat anything.” Walking back to the door, Graham opened it. She tried hard not to notice how the short sleeve of his polo shirt gripped around his biceps when he did that. “Off you go. The menfolk will be fine.”

“Yeah, Mom.” Zach, emerging from his cocoon, stood beside Graham. “We’re good.” As if in agreement, Graham laid his other hand on Zach’s shoulder, united in pushing the lone female out of their cave for the evening.

Her son’s chest puffed out just standing next to the Marine. He looked so happy to be in the company of another male, even if he was being—ew, ick—babysat.

“Fine.” She debated for a half second, then left without trying a hug. It would only embarrass him. So she just added a thank-you for Graham, and closed the door.

Instinct had her pausing on the doorstep for a moment. She heard her son shout with joy as he yelled, “Come see what I’ve got in my room! Mom just got me a new game,” and Graham’s more deep-voiced answer, then nothing.

If his father were around more . . . No, shake that one off, Kara. His father chose to not be around, except in very limited doses. So these moments of male bonding were all she had to offer currently. As he grew, she’d have to intentionally find more opportunities like this.

But for now, it would be enough to hang out for a night with a sun butter–eating Marine and some unwise video games.

CHAPTER

14

“How have you not seen any of the Harry Potter movies?” Greg asked, rubbing her upper arm as she jerked against him, startled by the action on the screen.

“I’m a purist. How have you not read any of the—oh!” Reagan covered her eyes as something jumped out from the shadows. Her startle reflex was terrible. “Not read any of the Harry Potter books? They’re classics.”

“Not much of a reader.”

She didn’t hold it against him. Some might automatically make the leap into “stupid jock” territory, but that was shortsighted of them. Ten minutes with Greg and it was easy to see there was nothing dumb about him.

“Are you looking forward to your meet next week?”

“Shh,” he said, squeezing her closer to his side while they watched Harry and his friends battle through the dungeon looking for the Sorcerer’s Stone.

“You’ve seen it, and I know how it turns out,” Reagan pointed out, which had Greg sighing and turning the volume down. Score one for female logic. “Are you excited?”

“To go beat up on a few guys in South Carolina?” He made a noise of disagreement, but she could feel his muscles tighten. Or at least the ones pressed against her. He rotated so that his back rested against the arm of the sofa, and her back leaned flat over his chest. She laid her head back and listened to his heartbeat while he thought. “I mean, Paris Island’s team is probably pretty decent. It’s not like us, but it’ll be a good show for the crowd. Good practice for us.” He thought for a moment, then let his hand drift to the nape of her neck, let his fingers slide in just a little to her hairline and play there. “Maybe worried for some of the younger guys.”

“Worried they can’t keep up?”

“A few. Others, worried they’ll do too well and won’t know when to pull back.”

“You’re supposed to treat this like a real match. You’re not meant to pull back.” Or at least, that’s what her packet of information had told her. “Everyone goes in giving one hundred percent.”

“Yes . . . and no. A few don’t know when to pull back. You give the full goods, until you know the other guy’s done. Now, if it’s a real rival, like during the All Military games, then hey, play on.” He chuckled. “I’m not gonna pull you off an Army guy. But when it’s one of our own, you don’t go for the throat like you would otherwise. When he’s down, he’s down. No need to keep at it so he stays that way.”

“I see.” She didn’t fully, if she were being honest with herself. Sports weren’t really her thing, ever. But she was doing her best to catch up. “Either way, are you excited to be traveling and seeing new competition?”

“Excited to get out of the BOQ. . . and into a new BOQ, sure. And ready to see some new blood. We’ll stop there with ‘ready.’”

He seemed so blasé about the whole thing. So matter-of-fact. “I have to go with you. It’s my first time traveling like this for work. Can I tell you a secret?”

He wrapped an arm around her, just under her breasts, and squeezed gently. “Shoot.”

Why did he have to make her feel so safe, so secure, so dainty when he did that? It scrambled her mind like an egg meant for an omelet. “I’m nervous.”

“Nervous about what?”

“About messing up. About making the wrong step. I’ve already made mistakes with this whole prank-war thing going on. And now there are protestors, and that stupid article that seems like it’s going viral . . .” She sighed and snuggled tighter against him. He pressed his lips to her temple, and she was ready to tell him her entire life story, even the embarrassing parts. “I’m worried I’m failing, and I won’t know how badly until I walk into work one day and there’s a pink slip in my mailbox.”