Unexpected Oasis by Cd Hussey Page A

as if realizing he probably shouldn't let me, the civilian he is paid to protect, know our quiet, safe little compound isn't as safe as I think, adds, "I mean, it's tame ninety percent of the time."
    I'm sure that's a lie for my benefit. "Well, good. I know it's probably boring for you, but boring is safer."
    "Yeah…" His voice trails off and I glance over at him. He's staring toward the mountain range and I can only imagine what adventures he's remembering.
    "What did you do in the military?"
    "Mostly Recon. Some Special Ops stuff. Three tours."
    "So you definitely liked that."
    He turns to me and grins. "Oh yeah."
    "What made you quit then?"
    He taps the side of his head. "I collected some shrapnel from an I.E.D. They decided pushing papers back on base was where I needed to be."
    "I'm sorry."
    He shrugs again. His shoulders are massive and heavy and I can only imagine how spectacular they are under the thin fabric of his shirt.
    "The war was winding down anyway. It was a good a time as any to attempt to live in the real world. Get married. Do the whole family thing."
    "But it didn't work out?"
    "Not remotely."
    "I can relate."
    "I thought you might."
    I wonder if I'm that transparent or if he's just a good judge of character. I like to think it's the latter.
    Trey pulls a flask from his shirt pocket. He's discreet about it, but he isn't hiding it either. He unscrews the top and offers it to me.
    I hesitate.
    He laughs. "It isn't Pakistani. Trust me. Scotch. Single malt. Glenmorangie to be specific."
    "Okay. As long as it isn't jet fuel, or piss , as D described it…" I take the flask and a small sip. "Oh. That's good." I start to hand it back and he holds out a hand to stop me.
    "You can take a healthier drink than that."
    I do. I didn't expect to miss "real" alcohol, but its warmth slides smoothly, deliciously, down my throat. I return the flask. He takes a long drink and then slips it back into his shirt pocket. Letting his forearms rest heavily on the arms of the camp chair, his body visibly relaxes and I hear him sigh.
    "So, what's your story?" he asks after a bit.
    "What do you mean?"
    "Why are you here?"
    I feel my entire body stiffen at the question.
    "Everyone has a story," he continues. "I'm here because I can't cut it in normal life. A beautiful woman like yourself doesn't come here without reason."
    There's that word again. Beautiful.
    He glances over at me and once he takes in my expression, hands over the flask. "Relax Andrea. We don't have to talk about it."
    Nodding tersely, I force the muscles in my face to relax enough to take a drink. I can still barely swallow.
    He gives my hand a squeeze as I hand back the flask. "We don't have to talk about it," he repeats.
    "Okay. Thanks."
    His smile is reassuring and stunning.
    While Kaihan plays the doumbek, we continue to pass the flask back and forth until it's empty. After a while, the men begin to dance—planned steps that remind me of a Greek line dance. When the drumming and dancing stops, we watch the flames dance until I'm as exhausted as the fuel.
    On my third yawn, Trey stands up. "If I don't get to bed," he says. "I'm going to fall asleep in this chair."
    I haven't seen him yawn once, but I play along. I take his outstretched arm and let him pull me to my feet. "Well, I wouldn't want that. You might end up with a scorpion as a bedmate. I can escort you home."
    He grins. "I'd appreciate that."
    We head back toward the rows of converted containers. My steps aren't quite as stable as they should be and I have to carefully maneuver my feet to keep from tripping. It gives me something to focus on, which is good since I'm way too aware of Trey's closeness.
    I can only imagine what it would be like to be under all that glorious weight and muscle.
    And push the thought away. It's too soon.
    Right?
    Too quickly we're standing at the door to my room. My heart jumps to attention. Like a dog that has escaped the confines of its fenced yard, it's running frantically