“Were you looking forward to that?” Brody wasn’t sure how he felt about her, but the thought of her leaving Scarlet Falls depressed him. Hannah was the first woman to interest him in a long, long time. Every time he thought he had her figured out, she threw him a curveball. The first time he’d met her, he’d thought her arrogant, aloof, and cold. But he couldn’t have been more wrong. She’d grieved her brother and stood by her family, proving to be smart and loyal, stubborn to a fault. In a heartbeat, she could shift from sharp corporate attorney to affectionate aunt. When a man had attempted to snatch her little nephew, Hannah had chased the scumbag. Barefoot. With snow on the ground. Her foot had been bleeding, and she hadn’t even noticed.

Complex was the only word for Hannah. She was a puzzle he wanted to solve but not in any rush. He wanted to take his time and get to know all her layers. The strength of that desire surprised him. His ex-wife only had two layers. At the first challenge, her pretty veneer had peeled back faster than steamed wallpaper.

For a long minute, Hannah simply stared out the window. “I thought so, but now I’m not so sure. I couldn’t wait to get out of Vegas.”

Brody brightened. “You won’t lose your job?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Royce won’t fire me. I’m not worried about that.”

“Then what’s the problem? Take some time off. Make sure you’re completely recovered. You don’t want to go back at less than one hundred percent, right? Poor performance wouldn’t help your career, and it’s not worth risking your health.”

“It doesn’t look like I have an option.” She glanced at him. Her brow lowered. “I don’t back away from anything easily. The Colonel raised me to identify my objectives and devote my efforts to achieving them, to work around, over, or through obstacles. All my life I’ve had to scratch and fight for what I wanted. Now I’m not sure what I want, but the instinct to do battle is still there. Without a goal, I feel lost.” She flushed and blinked away, as if embarrassed by her revelation.

“How about if I give you a task?” He eased the car around a curve. “Decide what you want for dinner.”

“Coffee.” She arched a challenging brow.

“I’ll stop for coffee if you tell me what you want to eat.”

She shot him a dirty look. “You suck.”

He laughed at the childish retort. He liked this less-formal, more-familiar Hannah. “If you’re tired, let’s pick up food, and I’ll cook something.”

“Can you manage steak?”

That wasn’t what he’d expected her to choose. “Yes, but most women ask for salad.”