Sitting on the stool next to him, she considered. The small dirt road ran past the semi-circle of houses before ending. On the other side of the road was Hawk’s landing strip. The forested area where they’d played games with the children was back where the road curved near the lake, much closer to Swan Avenue. There were no trees near the outside of the Hermitage. “I never thought about any of this.”

He nodded. “Knowing escape routes might let you…settle.”

“Settle?”

“After combat, soldiers stay on high alert. Preparation helps.” His tone was serious. Deadly. “Evaluate shit everywhere. Like the grocery—where are the exits? Hiding places.”

Her eyes started to tear. “I don’t want to live like that.”

“Woman, you already do.” The blunt statement was like a slap in the face.

Denying the truth was like whining that life wasn’t fair. It did her no good. Captain Nabera was still out there, would kill her if he saw her. And Nabera wasn’t the only predator in the world.

Even if there was no one actively wanting to hurt her, after what she’d lived through, her subconscious probably didn’t believe anywhere was safe. The best she could do would be to convince it that she could handle whatever happened. “Okay. I get it.”

His gaze stayed steady on her as he waited for the rest.

“And you’re right. I’ll work on it. And let you tell me the stuff I missed seeing.”

He gave a low humph of acknowledgement and agreement, then pointed at the oven. “Your pancakes.”

Her day went from sour to sweet. “I get pancakes?” She couldn’t keep from beaming at him.

And his head tilted slightly, his expression changing to one that was very masculine. “Do I get a hug too?”

Her mouth dropped open in surprise. At herself. Because she wasn’t immediately revolted; instead, the thought was intriguing—like another way to step out of the desert of non-touching she’d been in.

Before she lost her courage, she stepped between his knees, leaned forward, and hugged him around the shoulders. The very broad shoulders.

A tingle of interest sizzled up her spine.

He smelled different today. A green kind of clean—cypress and lavender. Maybe the tang of sage. She breathed in, wanting to rub her face against him. Against Hawk.

Her hand curled around his neck, under his hair, and she couldn’t resist running her fingers up through the strands. So thick and soft.

He closed his hands on her hips and pulled her closer.

Hard hands moving her.

At the feeling of being drawn forward, she felt the room turn icy cold, too cold for even air to exist. Her heart raced as she gasped, unable to breathe.

Wrenching away, she staggered back, hands up in a futile defense for when he…

He didn’t move.