He took a booth toward the back with a view of the front door. It was cozier. And she’d either have to decide to sit on his side where their bodies would definitely end up touching or Kimber’s where she’d have to look at him.

He fiddled with the menus and his phone, looking up every time the bell on the door jangled.

It wasn’t until his jaw started to ache that he realized he was scowling.

He had an ace up his sleeve that meant she’d have to talk to him. Kimber arrived a few minutes later, looking pink-cheeked and frazzled.

She spotted him and slid into the booth across from him. “You look good. What’s the occasion?” she asked, snagging one of the menus.

He winced, self-conscious now that he’d overdone it on the whole appearance thing.

“No occasion. Ken dragged me into his chair for a hair cut.”

“He’s terrifying and talented,” she noted, perusing the specials. “Hear anything from Remi?”

His jaw clenched reflexively, and he cleared his throat. “No.”

“Me neither. She’s probably blowing us off. Ooh! They brought back the beer cheese soup!”

Brick pretended to stare down at his menu until the door jangled at the front again.

He nearly stood when he spotted her. Red hair confined to a long braid over one shoulder. A navy wool hat that made those wide eyes look even greener. She shrugged out of her coat and took his fucking breath away. The mustard yellow henley and dark jeans cuffed above waterproof ankle boots hugged her curves hypnotically. Once again, she’d massacred the sleeve of her shirt to fit over the cast.

She looked edible. Fuckable.

It took him a full breath before he realized she wasn’t alone.

The toothy, happy-go-lucky Corporal Carlos Turk was taking her coat and hanging it up like he was her goddamn date or something. Brick’s fist closed on the specials page and crumpled it.

“Hi, guys,” Remi said, looking at her sister and pointedly ignoring him. “I think we’re going to need a bigger table. I brought reinforcements.”

“Hi, Mom!” Ian poked his head out from behind Carlos and grinned.

“Did you kidnap my son from his grandparents?” Kimber asked.

“Tonight he’s not your son,” Remi said. “Everyone, meet our technology officer, Ian.”

They moved to a bigger table, and Brick cursed his luck when Remi managed to end up at the opposite end as far away from him as possible. The grinning Carlos at her elbow as they debated sharing an appetizer.

The top button of her thermal shirt was undone, like an invitation to appreciate the swell of her breasts. He should not be thinking about her breasts. Not in front of her sister and impressionable nephew.

Orders placed, Kimber interlaced her fingers on the table. “Who wants to explain why my son isn’t with Grandma and Grandpa finishing his homework?” she asked, a hint of brittleness in her tone.

“There’s a good reason for it,” Remi promised. “Why don’t we start with how far you two got on the volunteer front, and then we’ll get to Ian and Carlos?”