“Like whether I prefer chocolate or peanut M&M’s?” Grady said, deliberately keeping it light because he’d much rather talk candy than his family situation.

“Yes. And your credit card number,” she added with a sugary sweet smile.

Grady laughed. He may have initially thought Suzanne was here to find herself a husband, but he didn’t think she was after his money. “Maybe next time you get me drunk on bourbon, I’ll tell you that.”

He was far from drunk, because Grady didn’t do that, either, but the tension he’d felt whenever she got close was blissfully absent, and it felt good to not be so damn alert.

“Well, I think you should be drunk on bourbon more often,” she said. “I didn’t think you knew this many words.”

Grady hooted out a laugh, grabbing his chest as if she’d wounded him. “Did you just call me dumb, Suzanne St. Michelle?”

She gaped at him, her cheeks flushing bright red as it dawned on her how her observation sounded. “Oh no…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” Her hands fluttered in the air in agitation. “Please don’t think—”

“I know I’m just a plainspoken…cowpoke,” Grady interrupted, faking his best yokel accent. “I know I don’t got me much dictionary learnin’ but—”

Pressing his lips together to stop from smiling worked for about two seconds before he cracked, laughing at the horror on her face. She glared at him as she slowly realized he’d been teasing her.

“How long were you going to watch me squirm?”

He shrugged. “I hadn’t made up my mind.”

“Yeah, well, this is the last time I drink bourbon with you.”

“I’m sorry for poking fun.” But it had been fun to see her a little flustered.

“You have to admit, Grady, you’re a man of few words.”

“True. But not because I have the vocabulary of an ant.”

“Because you’re the strong, silent type?”

He shrugged. “The less you talk, the more you learn.”

She crossed her eyes at him, and it was so unexpected, Grady chuckled. “That what being a soldier taught you?” she asked.

“Yep.” Being in the military had taught Grady a lot of things, including shutting up and listening, which had suited a guy who was tired of people always wanting to talk. He’d been over talking about the tragedy that had forever altered the direction of his life.

“Did you like being a soldier?”

“Yes.” The familiar ache in his chest glowed warm and bright. Grady had loved it.

“You were deployed?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, well, we’re down to one-word answers again, so I guess that means I’m getting a little personal.”

She was teasing, he could tell, but the muscles in his neck had cranked a notch or two tighter. “I don’t really talk about it.”