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didn’t mind. He should, but he would easily walk out of here without it if she wanted to keep it, even though it was one of his favorites. For some reason, he felt really protective of her. Maybe because of all those long talks. Maybe because he hadn’t been able to save her husband.
    Maybe because she was just a really nice, kind person who shouldn’t be living the kind of shitty-deal circumstance he knew how to cope with, but that had put her at such a loss. Losing her mom a few years ago was bad enough. Why did she have to deal with this, too?
    Muttley quirked an eyebrow, not even lifting his head, speaking clearly in dog. This happened and I’m not stirring a muscle in case she notices and changes her mind .
    Vin reached for the remote to turn off the TV, noted the dozen crushed tissues on the coffee table, and his heart sank even further.
    “There’s stir fry in the fridge,” Jacqui murmured, stretching and sighing. She was so short, she was able to straighten completely alongside the dog without hitting the arms at either end of the sofa. Her movement didn’t shift Muttley one inch, stubborn bag of fur that he was.
    “I had a burger. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
    “It’s too early to sleep, but jet lag caught up to me.” She wiped sleep from her eye as she nudged the dog and sat up. “I was up early to catch my flight.”
    Muttley made a discontented noise and dropped to the floor, shaking his collar before he walked away and settled where he could see her, sending her a look between dismay and hope for another shot at cuddling with her. His head went onto his paws, playing “forlorn” well enough to win an academy award.
    Jacqui set her feet on the coffee table and arranged the blanket over her lap, then glanced up. “You can still have the house. I wasn’t thinking about that at all when—”
    “I’m not taking your house, Jac.” He pushed his fingers into his jean pockets, ignoring the spike of hope while accepting the kick of disappointment. “I talked to some of the guys. I’ll find something and I can stay at the base until I do.”
    “No. Vin. Sit.” She patted the sofa beside her.
    He lifted his brows. That kind of talk was for Mutt.
    She tucked her chin. “Please?”
    He sighed as he sat.
    She shifted on the middle cushion so she faced him, elbow going onto the back of the sofa. She wore a warm flush and he accidentally found himself looking at her solemn mouth and creamy skin.
    He wasn’t drunk. He’d had two beers over four hours and hadn’t even finished the second one, but suddenly he had that let-loose, bar buzz where his brain slithered into getting naked with a woman and feeling her with all of his body. Locking lips, locking hips, disappearing into wet heat and waves of pleasure.
    He made himself look away, but couldn’t say what he was staring at. All the oxygen had burned out of his lungs.
    “Seriously, it’s fine.” He insisted.
    “No.” She set her hand on his arm, light and feminine.
    When he glanced into her eyes again, it was like the dreams he had sometimes, of falling out of a plane without a chute. Disorienting. Terrifying. Then he discovered he could fly and it was exhilarating.
    “I realize this friendship has been one-sided,” she said.
    His heart lurched at the word “friendship.” The ground rushed up to flatten him.
    “I’m a mess. Super self-involved,” she continued. “I only started to realize how bad I’ve become when I was talking to Rhonda earlier. You’ve been really patient. I can’t thank you enough, Vin.”
    Her hand was still on his arm, toasty as a fresh-baked roll, but leaving the kind of burn that came from extreme cold. She absently traced the pattern of a wing that was part of his sleeve tattoo. He dislodged her touch by running his hand down his face, stifling crazy thoughts while ensuring they didn’t show up on his face.
    “It’s fine. You’re fine.” What the hell was happening to him? He should have spent the