She got dressed in a daze, splashed her face with cold water, then steeled herself for a potentially mortifying encounter with Bellamy. A man whose opinion of her she actually kind of gave a damn about.

“Morning, Rose.” He was dressed a little less like a dork today with a navy blue polo shirt and khaki shorts. And unlike her, he showed no signs of a hangover. In fact, he looked mighty tasty.

“Morning. Sorry about last night.” For whatever she’d done. His response might tell the rest.

“No need to be. It was humid up there. And it was the end of a long day.”

“Thanks for, you know, not leaving me up there.”

“My pleasure. Did you have a peaceful sleep?” The glint in his eye suggested he knew more than he was letting on, but about what?

“I wouldn’t say that exactly. But it sure was…educational.”

“Oh? In what way?”

“In a way my mom would be proud of. She taught history, you know.” Rose eyed him curiously.

“Yes, I know.”

“Do you know history, Bellamy?”

“Some.”

“British history?”

“One of my favorite subjects actually.”

Rose grabbed ahold of the new maple syrup bottle before he could get to it. “How about the Napoleonic Wars?” she asked.

He beamed at her, then looked down at his plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, trying to hide his enthusiasm. It didn’t work. She knew he knew something about her dream last night, but what exactly? Was it linked to something he’d told her on the rooftop? And was she nuts for even thinking of the possibility? It seemed crazy.

“How much do you know about the Battle of the Nile?” she asked him.

“I vaguely recall it from when I was young. It’s like I told you last night. Hearing those stories of the great British sea commanders inspired me to join the Navy. Admiral Nelson was definitely one of my heroes.”

“You were in the Navy?” For the life of her, she couldn’t remember him saying that. It made her feel like a complete douchebag. What other personal things had he told her about himself that she’d gone and drowned in a sea of Coors Light. But…there’d only been a six-pack between them. Three each. That had never been enough to slide her into a stupor before. Not even as a teenager. And if he’d been telling her these things, he must have thought she was conscious enough to take them in.

It made no sense.

“For a time,” he began. “I was an officer, a lieutenant. But when I was wounded, it forced me…uh…onto a new career path.”

“And you told me all this last night, didn’t you?”

“At some length,” he replied, casting her a half-winking, half-reprimanding look.