Steam becomes you, Jenna, my dear.” Erik chuckled, his hazel eyes glinting in the sunlight. “Little curlicues churning from both ears.”
“Shut up.” Jenna glared across the table at her brother.
“Ooh. Daggers flung from the eyes. That’s attractive too. Kevin will be charmed.”
“I said shut”—she picked up her water glass and calmly dumped its contents into his Bloody Mary—“up!”
“Hey!” He sopped the red overflow with a napkin. “That was totally uncalled for.”
“I don’t think so. Felicia is not coming, but Kevin is?” She shoved her chair aside and stood. “You are such a jerk. Oh no!”
At the sight of Kevin on the far end of the patio, she plopped back down. With only one narrow aisle between her and the one doorway, he blocked any escape.
Erik smiled. “You could crawl over the wall. Take the beach route.”
“This isn’t funny. I swear, Erik—”
“Hi, Jen.”
She turned, and her breath caught. Kevin looked good. He looked so good. His eyes locked on hers. His mouth did its lazy, upward-curving thing. He wore a white polo shirt that hugged his shoulders and covered most of his tattoo.
Tattoos. Plural.
She pressed her lips together.
Erik, ever the gentleman except where his sister was concerned, stood up and shook Kevin’s hand. “Hi. Have a seat. Sorry about the mess.” He moved to the chair nearer the wall, signaling the waitress with a wave of his hand. “Kev, what would you like to drink?”
Kevin sat directly across from her. “Iced tea. Thanks.”
“Coming right up.” Erik smiled as the waitress approached. “Hi, darlin’.”
While they flirted and a busboy cleaned the spilled drink, Jenna pushed back her chair. Being cornered by these guys was definitely not her idea of fun. She wouldn’t be surprised if her dad showed up next.
Before she could slip away, Kevin angled his face beneath the bus-boy leaning over their table.
She read his lips. I miss you.
Well . . . maybe she’d stay . . . for a bit.
Erik clapped his hands together. “Okay, kiddos, I’m out of here. Unless you need a referee?”
Jenna rolled her eyes.
Kevin said, “We’ll be fine. I think?”
She nodded at him.
Erik got up and playfully slapped Kevin’s shoulder as he stepped behind him. “Watch her closely, my man. She’s feisty today.” He moved to Jenna and leaned over to hug her.
“You will pay for this, you dork.”
“Yes, I already gave the waitress my credit card. Brunch is on me.”
“Erik—”
He tapped her nose. “Just kiss and make up. You two are my last hope that wedded bliss is possible. Felicia sends her love.” He strode off without a backward glance.
Kevin said, “You didn’t know I was coming?”
She shook her head. “You?”
“Nope.”
The waitress arrived at their table. “Wow. Erik Beaumont is your brother! So what was it like growing up with San Diego’s favorite news anchor?”
Jenna hated that sort of question, especially from cutesy, fawning young females. Of course, they were the only ones who asked them. “He was and is and always will be a dork.”
She laughed. “Spoken like a true sister. Are you two ready to order?”
Food was the last thing on Jenna’s mind. She let Kevin choose first and then said, “Ditto.” He usually managed to eat whatever she didn’t.
They tiptoed around the subject of wedded bliss and talked about everything else until the server set before them platefuls of bacon, eggs, and Belgian waffles topped with strawberries and whipped cream. In silence, she ate a few berries. Kevin dug in as if he hadn’t eaten in days.
At last she laid down her fork. “How are you?”
“Tired of gutting it out and pretending that I’m okay without you. How are you?”
“Tired of being angry.”
“Come home?”
She tapped her fingers on the table. “Wait. You’re skipping over the apology part.”
“Are you going to eat your waffle?” He switched their plates, poured syrup, and forked a bite. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about that part.”
She watched him chew and swallow.
“The way I see it, Jen, is we’re a team. I’m there for you. You’re there for me. I don’t have to ask permission to throw the ball, because you know me. You know I’m going to throw and you know where.”
“Okay, I’m lost. What does football have to do with apologizing?”
“We both tanked the play. You weren’t in place to catch my throw. Probably because you didn’t understand the game plan.” He took another bite.
She waited in silence again for him to continue.
“Remember when we got engaged? My hitch was almost over, but I said the Marines were my family, that I would always be available to serve with them.”
She shrugged a shoulder.
“Well, I did say that, exactly, and you said you were proud of me, proud of my patriotism. You said I was a hero. Like a dunce, I figured that meant you understood. I guess I should have explained more. Visiting the base hospital isn’t what I was talking about.”
“Kevin! We’re married! There is a game plan to marriage, and it means you don’t make major life-changing plans without discussion.”
He shook his head. “It means we love each other so much we sup-port any decision made for the good of others.”
“So our being physically together is not a priority.”
“Right now it is—”
“Until you go overseas!”
“And then I’ll need to know that you’re holding down the fort at home. Jen, wives have been doing this for centuries.”
“Men go to war, and women wait.”
“Yeah, for the most part. I mean, there are some women who go.”
She shoved back her chair. “Well, this one’s going before that waffle ends up on your head.” Picking up her handbag, she stood.
“There you go, quitting again.”
“You’re the one who quit us.” She strode away, nearly collided with a waiter, and hurriedly wound her way across the patio. Inside the restaurant she made a beeline for the exit, fighting back hot tears and a string of invectives.
“Ma’am!” Their cutesy waitress popped alongside her. “So does your brother have a special friend?”
Jenna halted near the front door. “What?”
“I’m sorry. You’re in a hurry, I can tell.” She thrust a piece of paper at Jenna. “This is my phone number. I thought maybe if he doesn’t have a girlfriend . . .”
Erik. This was all his fault. If he’d left well enough alone, Kevin might have gotten desperate enough to call her and apologize rather than sit in a public place and talk about football.
She raised her hand, refusing the woman’s paper. “I’ve got a better idea. I’ll give you his number.” She smiled. “It’s unlisted.”