Ford leaned in and gave Sam a gentle peck on the forehead. He wished there was more he could to do to reassure his son. He knew what it was like to have a father you barely knew anymore.

“You bet,” he promised.

* * *

“—so by this point, he’s literally buck naked with his jock strap on his forehead, a banana in his teeth, hooting like a monkey—and that’s when our C.O. steps in—and I swear to God, looks him right in the eye, not skipping a beat, goes: ‘At ease, Lieutenant.’”

Elle doubled over, giggling hysterically, as Ford acted out the anecdote for her entertainment. They had the lights on dim in the kitchen and a half-empty bottle of wine rested on the table between them. Ford knew he ought to get some sleep—he had been traveling nonstop for over a day now—but he and Elle had a lot of lost time to make up. She struggled to catch her breath, laughing so hard tears leaked from her eyes. Ford cracked up, too.

He came around the table and pulled her close.

“I missed your laugh,” he said, relishing the feel of her against him. “My last roommate honked like a mule.”

She melted into him. The familiar scent of her hair stirred his memories.

“I missed you, too,” she said.

Their laughter gradually subsided, but he kept holding onto her, unwilling to let her go. Back on tour, while disposing of explosive ordnance, there had been more than a few tense moments when he’d thought he’d never have a chance to hold Elle again. Part of him still couldn’t believe that they were really back together again after all that time. Hilarity gave way to intimacy as she rested snugly against him. Just like old times.

He drew her toward him. She resisted at first, eyeing him with a wary expression, but, to his vast relief, she let it go for now. Their lips met as they surrendered to a mutual hunger that had not been satisfied for far too long. The kiss deepened, growing in heat, while they pressed against each other with ever-greater urgency, their hands exploring the tantalizing contours beneath their clothing, their fervent grip and lips anchoring them together. Locked in each other’s arms, they began to ease toward the bedroom.

The phone rang.

“Don’t,” he said. “Not now.”

Elle disengaged from the embrace, pulling away, but he held on to her waist. Her face was flushed. “It could be work.”

She was a nurse at San Francisco General Hospital, and she took her responsibilities as seriously as he did his. It was one of the things he loved about her, even when their respective duties pulled them apart. He clung to her playfully, nuzzling her neck, even as she leaned over to answer the phone.

“Hello?” she said into the receiver, fighting back giggles.