Read Online First to Burn by Anna Richland - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anna Richland
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simple box separating them.
No. She grabbed for the cardboard flaps to end this folly.
“Oww.” A line of blood welled from a slice across the pad of her second finger.
He touched her wrist, then tugged her palm closer to examine the cut. A sensation not unlike hypoxia, complete with vertigo and shortness of breath, spun from her stomach to her head and knees. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, faint over a simple paper cut.
“I apologize.” He bent over her hand.
He wouldn’t kiss her finger; she couldn’t allow that. “It’s not your fault.” She tried to retrieve her hand, but his thumb pressed into her palm and he cradled her knuckles. Tugging harder didn’t help.
“My knife cut the box edge, not the tape.”
“I’ll be fine.” Her high-pitched tone must have reached him, because he released her. She immediately wished he hadn’t, then stifled the thought. “What were...oh, cookies.” This time she used care to open the flaps.
“Delicious.” His slow, deep voice returned, cueing her to look down.
Her mother hadn’t put cookies on top. Black lace peeked out of pink packing tissue. Jet beads caught the sun and winked at her from ribbon trim that connected two scalloped bra cups. She shoved the offending object deeper. Her jaw hurt from the pressure of gritting her teeth, but nothing she could say, nothing, would make this go away. She should shut up. Right now .
“If you decide to take her advice...” His smile lifted one side of his mouth.
What was he talking about? She followed his gaze to a sticky note that’d transferred from the tissue paper to her forearm. Not for your roommates! Share these with a nice boy. Written in her mother’s distinctive slanted loops.
She needed to escape before she surpassed her record for embarrassment, set the day she broke her holster in pre-deployment training at Fort Benning, and her Beretta slipped down inside her pant leg. Two more minutes and she’d blurt out that story. That would impress a Special Forces stud.
“Here.” She reached deep, felt plastic and tugged out a bag of chocolate espresso swirls. After he caught them, her free hand snatched the carton he held, and she jammed the small box into the top. She was out of here like crap in a case of salmonella.
“Would you like to see a movie?”
Her mouth opened a second before her thoughts gelled into speech. “What did you say?” She suspected her mother’s cooking had led high school boyfriends to date her longer than they might have, but never had the effect occurred from merely seeing the food.
“Friday night movie at our ready room. Maybe cookies would cheer Captain Deavers.” The eyebrows arched over his shades ruined his sincerity. “Team’s worried.”
“Laying it on thick, aren’t you? I know his wife’s been to three parenting meetings already.”
“We’re showing Cinderella. ”
“Tell me that’s not spelled with an S .”
“Disney, I swear.” He raised a palm like a Boy Scout. “Kahananui’s pick. His girls are into the princess lifestyle. He wants to share it with them.” Lines at the corners of his mouth betrayed his struggle to hold a straight face. “You could bring Meena.”
“She still insists on being Mir.” She shouldn’t say yes, but how could she deny Nazdana’s helper the chance to see a cartoon?
“The rest of the team might know a new patient for you.”
This felt like high school, when guys had three idiotic ways to explain why getting a burger wasn’t a date, but finding women who needed medical care would involve Wulf and his team. “Okay, what time?”
“We start at twenty hundred. You know where our ready room is?”
“Yes.” If he knocked on her hut, gossip would explode like a rocket-propelled grenade.
“Until tonight.” He leaned in until her face filled his reflective lenses.
Did her eyes really look half-closed? Her lips half-open? Her sports bra compressed her chest as she struggled for air, waiting for him to close the
No. She grabbed for the cardboard flaps to end this folly.
“Oww.” A line of blood welled from a slice across the pad of her second finger.
He touched her wrist, then tugged her palm closer to examine the cut. A sensation not unlike hypoxia, complete with vertigo and shortness of breath, spun from her stomach to her head and knees. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, faint over a simple paper cut.
“I apologize.” He bent over her hand.
He wouldn’t kiss her finger; she couldn’t allow that. “It’s not your fault.” She tried to retrieve her hand, but his thumb pressed into her palm and he cradled her knuckles. Tugging harder didn’t help.
“My knife cut the box edge, not the tape.”
“I’ll be fine.” Her high-pitched tone must have reached him, because he released her. She immediately wished he hadn’t, then stifled the thought. “What were...oh, cookies.” This time she used care to open the flaps.
“Delicious.” His slow, deep voice returned, cueing her to look down.
Her mother hadn’t put cookies on top. Black lace peeked out of pink packing tissue. Jet beads caught the sun and winked at her from ribbon trim that connected two scalloped bra cups. She shoved the offending object deeper. Her jaw hurt from the pressure of gritting her teeth, but nothing she could say, nothing, would make this go away. She should shut up. Right now .
“If you decide to take her advice...” His smile lifted one side of his mouth.
What was he talking about? She followed his gaze to a sticky note that’d transferred from the tissue paper to her forearm. Not for your roommates! Share these with a nice boy. Written in her mother’s distinctive slanted loops.
She needed to escape before she surpassed her record for embarrassment, set the day she broke her holster in pre-deployment training at Fort Benning, and her Beretta slipped down inside her pant leg. Two more minutes and she’d blurt out that story. That would impress a Special Forces stud.
“Here.” She reached deep, felt plastic and tugged out a bag of chocolate espresso swirls. After he caught them, her free hand snatched the carton he held, and she jammed the small box into the top. She was out of here like crap in a case of salmonella.
“Would you like to see a movie?”
Her mouth opened a second before her thoughts gelled into speech. “What did you say?” She suspected her mother’s cooking had led high school boyfriends to date her longer than they might have, but never had the effect occurred from merely seeing the food.
“Friday night movie at our ready room. Maybe cookies would cheer Captain Deavers.” The eyebrows arched over his shades ruined his sincerity. “Team’s worried.”
“Laying it on thick, aren’t you? I know his wife’s been to three parenting meetings already.”
“We’re showing Cinderella. ”
“Tell me that’s not spelled with an S .”
“Disney, I swear.” He raised a palm like a Boy Scout. “Kahananui’s pick. His girls are into the princess lifestyle. He wants to share it with them.” Lines at the corners of his mouth betrayed his struggle to hold a straight face. “You could bring Meena.”
“She still insists on being Mir.” She shouldn’t say yes, but how could she deny Nazdana’s helper the chance to see a cartoon?
“The rest of the team might know a new patient for you.”
This felt like high school, when guys had three idiotic ways to explain why getting a burger wasn’t a date, but finding women who needed medical care would involve Wulf and his team. “Okay, what time?”
“We start at twenty hundred. You know where our ready room is?”
“Yes.” If he knocked on her hut, gossip would explode like a rocket-propelled grenade.
“Until tonight.” He leaned in until her face filled his reflective lenses.
Did her eyes really look half-closed? Her lips half-open? Her sports bra compressed her chest as she struggled for air, waiting for him to close the
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