Grey Skies - A Military Romance (Complete)

Grey Skies: Chapter 8

Light jazz filtered through the café in the Capitol Riverfront district in Washington, DC, when Emily explained her plan. Sophie's mochaccino curdled in her stomach. "He's coming here? Now?"

"Yup." Mary tried to cover her smile with her coffee cup and failed.

Sophie regretted the shapeless sweater she'd decided to wear this morning. The thick cable pattern was warm and toasty on the veranda off the guest room she was staying in at the Lake house. Her quiet moments of solitude were full of fresh air and watching the sun rise were one of her favourite times of the day. Growing up in New York City, she'd climb to the rooftop of the building that housed her parents' restaurant and their two-bedroom apartment to catch some rays and gaze at the concrete jungle that was her home. But nothing was like looking over the luscious green of the countryside, with the Bridgetown Church Spiral off in the distance as the only sign of civilization. The view was peaceful in a way she never thought she'd ever appreciate. The air was crisp and clear in the early November mornings, and everything was quiet, like the kitchen late at night when all was cleaned and put away.

But even in the weak November mid-morning sunlight streaming through the car window, she was warm. Now, as the three women sipped beverages in a coffee shop near the Naval Base, a furnace seemed to be brewing under the sweater. She should have ordered an iced drink. "Shouldn't he be half a world away, taking down pirates or whatever?"

Emily's hand played with the anchor-shaped charm on her necklace. "Finn says his rotation is up and he's home for a few weeks. Just in time for the holidays."

"Would you stop that tapping?" Mary's paper cup plopped onto the table like a warning bell. "We'll get to the market in plenty of time."

Sophie crossed her legs and swung her foot back and forth, then regretted that decision as it reminded her of Max's thumb caressing her shoulder the night of the July fourth barbeque. Max, who she hadn't seen in four months. Max, who was due to walk through the coffeehouse door at any moment. "I could take a cab and go to the now. Get my stuff while Emily talks to..."

A shadow passed by the window and darkened the table. Sophie's cheeks burned.

"Here's Max now." Emily stood to encase the soldier in an embrace.

"Ladies." He nodded at Mary and held Sophie's gaze for less than a nanosecond before glancing away. Sophie shifted in her chair. Swap the Navy shirt and pants for a t-shirt and shorts and he looked exactly the same as he did the last time she saw him. In daylight. The last time she technically saw him, he was sound asleep as she snuck out of his room pre-dawn. Then he'd been completely naked, his tight tushy tempting her to stay. But she'd fled, like a thief in the night, used the excuse of catching the early train back to Washington because work called and needed her to come in early. Anything to not face the awkward morning after.

"Sit." Emily pointed to the empty chair beside Sophie. "Can I get you something?"

The metal chair squeaked under the weight of him. "I'm good, thanks."

"Are you sure? Maybe something sweet? A cookie."

With her stare intently focused on her coffee cup, Sophie could only catch the small smile that graced Max's lips, but at the tiny movement a balloon of some emotion she didn't want to recognize swelled beneath her sweater.

"I need another brownie." Mary plucked up her wallet. "I'll get some for the table."

Max rose with her, like this was a formal dinner in another century. "Let me."

"Well, aren't you the picture of chivalry." Mary batted eyelashes at him, and Sophie could swear she saw a tinge of pink on his cheeks. "Appreciate the gesture, but it's really an attempt to butter you up. Emily has a favour to ask, and I think if you're high on sugar, you just might agree."

Emily groaned. "Mary."

"What?" Mary shrugged. "They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Right Sophie?"

Max twisted and eyes the colour of chocolate buttercream icing fell on her. Eyes that seemed to see too much. Avoiding his gaze, she blinked at Mary. "I wouldn't know." The words dribbled out of her mouth like a leaky tap.

"You're the chef. That makes you the resident expert. Don't you agree Max?"

Sophie glared at her soon to be ex-friend. Embarrassment mixed with remorse at telling Mary about sleeping with Max. This had to be her way of playing matchmaker. Now Mary was married to Simon, Finn's brother, Mary insisted Sophie must have a husband as well. Even if she didn't want one.

Max scratched the side of his neck and her stomach flipped at the sight of his short, trimmed nails. The memory of what he'd done with them caused her to squeeze her thighs together. An echo of the taste of his skin on her tongue. This was not good.

"I'll help you get the brownies." Sophie shot out of her seat and snagged Mary's elbow.

"Hey, be careful," Mary squawked.

As they joined the line, Sophie purposely placed her back to Max. "You're embarrassing me."

Mary's hand flew to her chest. "Am I?"

"Cut the sweet little girl act. Did you drag Emily here for this?"

"No." Mary held up her hands. The impish grin on her face faded. "I swear. This is all Emily's idea. I'm only having fun. Besides-" Mary's gaze flickered over Sophie's shoulder-"deny you like him."

"You know perfectly well I do. But if I ever saw him again, I would've liked a heads up." Sophie billowed the heavy sweater. "And not worn this monstrosity."

"I'm pretty sure he wouldn't care if you wore a brown paper bag." Mary grinned again.

A thud of excitement banged in her chest. "How would you know?"

"It's a gift. Also, he's drooling at you right now."

Sophie's head whipped in the direction of their table and snapped to Max's stare. His eyes widened, like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Shit. She spun around and glared at Mary, who was holding her sides. "This is not funny."

"But those puppy dog eyes. Even I want to take him home and tell him he's a good boy. Ouch." Mary rubbed her arm where Sophie had pinched her. "That's not nice."

"Can I help you?" The barista waved at them.

"Yes. Two brownies, an éclair, a half a dozen of those sugar cookies. What?" Mary stuck out her bottom lip. "Simon likes them. Oh, and an apple fritter. Please."

Sophie's phone pinged in her hand, and she glanced at the message.

Etienne: Interview at the Avenue went well. Fingers crossed.

He'd get the job. Years of experience, a steady hand and award-winning creations, Etienne's resume floated to the top of restaurateur's piles. Once in the door, his confident nature, sense of humour and winning smile would surely secure him the role. True to his word, he'd kept in touch during the weeks since the restaurant folded, hoping he could bring her on board wherever he landed.

She sent back five star emojis, crossed her arms and glared at Mary. "It's not nice being ambushed like this."

"Look. I did you a favour." Her friend made a show of inspecting the cupcakes on display by the cash register. "You two were bound to meet again. This way you get all the uncomfortable stuff out of the way in a public space."

She snuck a glance over at Max, who sat on the edge of his chair, his back ramrod straight.

Uncomfortable was the word for it alright.