“Maybe?” He raised his brows and I laughed. He was soft today. I liked this relaxed version of him. Kael the civilian.

“I’m going to a party tonight,” I told him. “It’s at my dad’s house.”

He made a face.

“Yes. Exactly. Only worse, because my brother is being an idiot and throwing it while Dad and Estelle are off in Atlanta at the Marriott, eating lobster tails and boozing with expensive wine.” I rolled my eyes.

My dad never took my mom anywhere like that. They never had adult time without my brother and me. One of the many reasons their marriage didn’t work out. That and the fact that they were the two least compatible people on earth.

“Your dad doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who wants a party thrown at his house,” Kael observed. “Especially when he’s not there.”

If only he knew. “Oh, he’s not. That’s why I’m going to chaperone.”

He made a noise—something between a grunt and a laugh. He was actually amused. I was really liking this, the way I was starting to read his face and guess what he was thinking.

“Aren’t you a little young to be chaperoning?”

“Ha, ha.” I stuck my tongue out at him . . . then snapped my mouth shut as soon as I realized what I’d done. I was flirting with him! I didn’t know how to stop. Who was this person, sticking her tongue out at a boy?

“How old are you, Mr. Expert-on-Ageism?”

“That’s not what ageism means.” He corrected me with a smile.

I scoffed. I was equal parts charmed and surprised.

“Okay, Mr. Know-It-All, how old are you?”

He smiled again.

So soft.

“I’m twenty.”

I shot up. “Really? I could be older than you?”

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Twenty-one next month.”

He licked his pink lips and bit on the bottom one. It was a habit of his, I’d noticed.

“I turn twenty-one tomorrow. I win,” he said with a smile.

I opened my mouth in an O. “No way. Show me your ID.”

“Really?” he questioned.

“Yes, really. Prove it.” And then, because I couldn’t help myself, I added, “I want receipts.”

He pulled his wallet out from the back pocket of his jeans and handed it to me. The first thing I saw was a picture of two women. One was older than the other by a couple of decades or so, but the resemblance was there.

I looked up at him, apologizing for the lack of privacy. The picture was obviously old and important, otherwise it wouldn’t be in his wallet. Across from the picture of the women was his military ID card. I read his birthday. Sure as sin, his birthday was tomorrow.

“So, you’re older than me by like a month.” I gave in.

“I told you.”

“Don’t brag.”