Here And Now (American Valor 2) by Cheryl Etchison

too?”
    “I’ve got another hour before I have to leave for class if you want to sit down.”
    She slid in across from him and Peggy quickly arrived, clearing away his father’s dishes. Rachel spent the next few minutes perusing the breakfast menu, talking to herself, maybe to him, as she discussed the finer points of both pancakes and waffles. This amused him because, really, weren’t they the same damn thing? But he liked watching her chew on her bottom lip, fiddle with her hair, tap her finger against the menu.
    When Peggy returned to take her order, he waited in almost breathless anticipation to see which breakfast she would ultimately choose: pancakes or waffles? And the answer was . . . a ham and cheese omelet with fresh fruit and a double side of bacon.
    Satisfied with her decision, Rachel tucked a strand of her now reddish blond hair behind her ear and blew across the surface of her coffee, a slight smile on her face.
    “Your dad has the best name,” she said out of the blue.
    Whiplash.
    This woman gave him conversational whiplash since he could never predict just what she might say next. It was a trait that reminded him of his friend Gibby. Only she was far prettier and smelled a helluva lot nicer.
    “Duke is a nickname. His real name is John Wayne James.”
    “Huh.” She narrowed her eyes at him while taking a careful sip of her coffee. “Now I have to ask—is Lucky a nickname or your real name?”
    “Real name.”
    “Really?”
    “Yep. Named for my grandfather.”
    The waitress returned with Rachel’s breakfast and Lucky drank the last of his coffee, watching in silent fascination as she drowned her eggs in Tabasco. “How was your first night?”
    “Quiet. A little creepy, I have to admit,” she answered between bites. “I slept with the bathroom light on like a little kid.”
    “It’ll be better once you get some furniture.”
    “You’ll be happy to hear I actually have some furniture now,” she said, waving her fork in the air. “After you left, I went to Walmart. I was wandering around in there eleven o’clock at night intending to only buy sheets, pillows, and an air mattress, but I ended up buying a television and two camping chairs, too.”
    “Camping chairs, huh?”
    “You know the kind that come in their own little bag? They’re hot pink and have a built-in drink holder.” She tore a piece of bacon in half as she spoke. “I bought two in the event I have a guest. That way they’ll now have a place to sit besides the bar stools.”
    Peggy was back, topping off his cup of coffee.
    “What classes do you have today?”
    “Modern Humanities and Freshman Comp.”
    “Sounds . . . exciting.” When he didn’t react, she quickly added, “That was sarcasm by the way.”
    “I was hoping it was.”
    “Do you have to write a research paper?” When he nodded, she asked, “What’s your topic?”
    “Women in combat.”
    “Should be an easy A for you. And what are your thoughts on the subject, Mr. James?”
    “It’s a research paper, not an opinion piece. I’m just listing the facts.”
    “For instance . . .”
    “That a dozen of our allies have had women in combat roles for over a decade or even longer. Sweden. Canada. Germany. Israel, of course. The US already has women out there in the middle of it, but they’re classified as ‘enablers’ and attached to combat divisions rather than assigned to combat divisions to skirt the whole ban on . . .” Catching himself in mid-diatribe, he stopped. “I don’t really want to talk about this.”
    “Okay, then. Talk about something else.”
    “You changed your hair.” It wasn’t quite the fiery red-orange color of her youth, but the bleached look was gone. “Did you get that at Walmart, too?”
    A pink flush crept across her cheeks as she smiled, her hands immediately going to her hair and smoothing over the long strands. “I did it yesterday, between unpacking and loads of laundry.”
    “It looks nice.”
    “I