Grey Skies - A Military Romance (Complete)

Grey Skies: Chapter 2

Sophie wanted to respond with "My lips," but she pointed to the Kimchi. "This is a twist on the cole slaw you love so much. It's a family recipe. But I warn you, it's spicey."

Max piled on a spoonful. "And this?" He pointed to the platter of thinly sliced ham rolled around a baby stalk of romaine lettuce. "It's my twist on prosciutto and melon but with peaches." He added two skewers to his plate. She reached across the table and plucked up the smoky balsamic dressing. "Add a bit of this if you're feeling adventurous."

He extended the food to her, and she drizzled the dark liquid across the meat. They went around the table; her describing the food and him taking a portion of each dish. At one point, he had to get a second plate, and she held his original, heavy with food.

Max's light brown eyes looked up at her. "I'll have to come back for dessert." She snagged some food and followed Max to a set of benches carved out of a stone wall. Warmed by the sun, the stone offered a view of the lake and provided a steady surface to lay their plates on. Sophie watched as Max tucked into the dishes, nodding after each bite.

"Is that basil?" A crumb flew from his mouth.

She chuckled. "No, rosemary. Did you just name the first herb you thought of?"

A shy smile spread across his face, and Sophie's stomach tightened. It had been the same way when she'd first noticed Max at Emily's wedding, standing with Finn and some of his other military buddies at the reception. They'd all been laughing, and congratulating Finn, a gaggle of lean but well-built men, of which Max was the shortest of the group. Max's head had turned her way, that timid expression on his face in opposition to the hard packed muscles so obvious under his form-fitting uniform. Like now, the shy smile did things to her insides. Without any thought, that night she'd navigated her way through the wedding guests, across the ballroom and asked him to dance.

Shania Twain's From This Moment played as his hand sat on the small of her back, the other holding hers. The entire song, he'd stared into her eyes, a silent conversation happening between them, but he spoke a foreign language she didn't understand. However, she was very aware of what his body was telling her. His thumb had grazed over hers in a slow back and forth that raised her internal temperature to scorching by the time the music stopped. Desire surged through her and her offer to come back to her room was on the tip of her tongue when a woman in a similar military uniform interrupted them, pronouncing they had to return to base or miss curfew.

Max had offered her a shrug and wished her goodnight, leaving her uncomfortable and in need of relief. Luckily, she'd packed her vibrator and images of what Max should have done to her pushed her over the edge twice later that night. And for many a night since. With Emily's confirmation of his attendance at the barbeque, Sophie planned to experience the real thing.

"I don't know much about this kinda stuff." Max pointed to the half-eaten plate. "My mom isn't much of a cook unless it's fried. But I'm always willing to try new things." He licked his lips and Sophie's stomach did more than a flip, a full cartwheel. "So, you're a chef?"

"Technically." The word flew out of her mouth and echoed off the stone, the teasing tone harkening back to another man she'd explained her career path to. A man a long time ago who left her far too soon. The grapefruit and champagne cocktail in her stomach soured.

One of Max's eyebrows lifted. "What does that mean?"

"I'm a sous chef, so that's like the second in command with your military people." She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Until Emily had reconnected with Finn last year, the only knowledge Sophie had of the military was through the movies, stereotypical camouflage pants and dark blue uniforms. She didn't even realize there were different branches and Finn and Max were not Army, but Navy. But when your best friend marries an ex-marine, facts tend to sink in through osmosis. "I don't choose the dishes but help with execution."