We all filed into our cars and headed off-post toward the restaurant. The temperature in my F150 was enough to cook an egg, not that I was going to experiment. I was used to Southern summers, but not in full, long-sleeved uniform, and not without the ocean breeze. Pretty sure I could pull some Wizard of Oz shit, because I was fucking melting today. We pulled up to Firehouse, and I was the first through the door. My eyes searched for her before I even realized I was doing it, but we must have beaten her there.

I flexed my jaw and attempted to relax. It wasn’t like I wasn’t going to see her at home. I lived with the damn girl, but my brain craved more. Four damn weeks, and if I wasn’t with her, I was thinking about her, wondering what she was doing and what ridiculous prank she was pulling. It was getting more than a little out of hand. What trouble was she going to get into this weekend while I was gone?

It was my turn up to the counter, and when I heard Jagger on the phone with Sam, saying back her order to get it right, I placed it, putting it on my tab. Apparently having her as a roommate meant I needed to either curb my irrational infatuation or make a new line-item on the budget that read “For misogynistic displays of illogical possession.”

We took the booth nearest the door, and the guys started talking about their plans for the Fourth of July. I heard them, but their voices took a backseat to the white noise in my head. Failing three tests. One more week.

Flying home tonight so I could spend the weekend at home. Again.

“Not sure. I have to check with Paisley,” Jagger said, “and I’ll answer for Josh and say that he’s headed to Nashville.”

“Ha.” Josh threw a fry at Jagger’s head. “Not like you’re not just as whipped.”

“Ouch, yet true,” Jagger answered.

The bell sounded as the door opened, and my head whipped toward it as a few soldiers walked in. I bit into my chicken-parm hoagie like it would fill the pit that was slowly growing in my stomach.

“Little anxious over there?” Jagger asked, smirking like an asshole.

I didn’t bother answering, sending a death glare across the booth. The bell sounded again, and this time Sam swept in, dressed in a flowy skirt that ended right above her knees and a strappy top that left her collarbone bare. I swallowed, my food suddenly a lot thicker. Or maybe that was my tongue.

“Hi!” She grinned and waved, skipping over to our table. “Scooch over.” She nudged my shoulder, and I slid toward Carter, more than happy to be the barrier between them.

“You look happy,” Josh said.

“Friday payday! So I picked up some groceries and swung by the library to ask Paisley if they need any volunteers. Oh, is that mine?” She raised her eyebrows at me, and I slid her sandwich toward her. “Thank you!”

“Sam, you didn’t have to grocery shop,” Jagger said, a French fry hanging out of his mouth. How he got by dating the Commanding General’s daughter with those manners, I’d never know.

“I wanted to. But I wish I’d been warned that they didn’t stock peppermint-mocha coffee creamer down here. I would have stocked up in Nashville.” She took a bite of her food and moaned. “Ohmygodsogood,” she mumbled through her chewing.

I’d never really thought a girl eating was hot, but damn. Stop it. You’re going home today. “Do you want my muffin, too?” I motioned to the banana walnut one I’d added to my tray.

“Thanks, but I’m allergic to nuts. I’ll stick with this masterpiece,” she said to her sandwich. “So, are you flying straight into Nags Head?” she asked, her eyes on me.

Jagger dropped his fry. “Nags Head?”

Sam nodded, her eyebrows knitting together. “Yeah. It’s where he’s from. Right, Grayson?”

Their stares burned holes through my uniform, but I nodded anyway. “Yep.”

Jagger leaned forward on his elbows. “What else do you know?”

She looked up at me for permission, her eyes wide, inquisitive. They broke me down like nothing else could, and I gave her a short nod.

“His father builds racing sailboats, and his mother believes in old-fashioned manners,” she stated, then sipped sweet tea through her straw. Those lips.

“I didn’t tell you that last part,” I said softly.

“I’ve lived with you for the last four weeks. You didn’t have to.” She tipped her chin and smiled up at me.

Her lips demanded all of my attention, and I tightened every muscle in my body to keep from kissing her. Her face would fit perfectly between my hands, her skin would be soft under my fingers, and her mouth would be sweet and warm until it was hot and demanding. I wanted her needy, her hips in my hands, my name a gasp on her lips. Snap the fuck out of it.

I blinked and fought to picture Grace’s face. The way her brown eyes softened after I kissed her, the gentle touch of her hands all seemed so far away. Too long ago. Grace was my moon, my constant, but Sam…she shone like the sun, fiery, a little temperamental, and she was burning away the darkness I’d lived in for so long.

Problem was, I didn’t deserve sunlight.

“Shit, that’s why you have the degree in Marine engineering?” Jagger asked.

“Yeah.” I sat up straight and shoved food into my mouth.

“Huh,” Jagger said with a shit-eating grin that I wanted to punch off his face. “So who’s up for the Outer Banks over the Fourth of July?”

“I wish,” Josh answered.