And that made his chest ache even more, because her laughter trickled up to him, wound through him, and all he could think of was the way she’d kissed him on the boat.

As if he meant something to her, and it tossed him right back to her words—“I just can’t love a man who is going to . . .”

A crab scurried near his foot, and he watched it rebury itself in the soft sand. Yeah, he’d done the same thing. About a month ago, he’d woken up into a world where Tae—or Flo, as he’d called her then—was his sunshine and light. And then the minute it got real . . .

Crab in the sand.

Wow, he was a jerk.

He should talk to her before he left. The thought had hung around in his brain all day as he watched her work in her lab. She was so precise, so smart. She shouldn’t be with him. She needed someone who was . . . like Fraser Marshall, maybe. The guy was quiet and thoughtful and didn’t say stupid things.

And probably if a woman said she loved him—or could—he loved her right back.

Because Fraser wasn’t reckless or impulsive. Fraser hadn’t been the guy offering himself up as tribute back in Nigeria every time Abu wanted to make a point. Not even once had Fraser been forced to sit on his knees, a machete to his neck, waiting . . . waiting . . .

A wave came in, crashed to Colt’s knees, then fell away.

Fine. Yes, Colt might want to love Tae more than he wanted to admit.

But then what? He made stupid promises that he ended up breaking, and then he’d really hurt her.

And he’d be right back to not being able to look at himself in the mirror.

He stopped, stared out at the ocean, his hands in his pockets as he watched the dark horizon. A pelican rode the waves, probably shopping for dinner in the fading light.

Breathe.

Truth was, guys like him often got the girl, but they didn’t get the happy ending.

And something inside him didn’t want the girl without it.

“Colt?”

He stilled.

“The guys said you were out here,” Tae said.

He closed his eyes. Sighed.

“Colt?”

“Yeah.” He turned, dredged up a smile.

Wow, she was pretty. Her blond hair shone in the moonlight, and she wore a pair of shorts, a sleeveless button-down shirt that she’d tied in a knot at her waist. She smelled good, too, some kind of flower, maybe. And she was barefoot, her sandals hanging from her fingers.

“Hey,” she said, and smiled, and everything inside him turned to liquid. “I . . . I hear you guys are deploying later tonight.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Her smile fell. “Am I interrupting some sort of . . . pregame ritual?”

Aw. “No.” He ran a hand around his neck. “I just . . . wanted to clear my head.”

“I should leave you.”