Between Duty and Desire by Leanne Banks Page B

smile.
    When he knocked on her door one afternoon, she answered with a pink nose, pink cheeks and tearful eyes. His gut clenched. “What’s wrong?”
    “This isn’t a good day,” she said in a wobbly voice. “I don’t think I’m going to be very good company. You’d probably better go back to your place.”
    “I’m not going back to my place. What is it?”
    She bit her lip. “It’s his birthday,” she whispered. “It’s Rob’s birthday. I’ve spent nearly every birthday with him since he was ten.”
    His chest tightened at the pain he saw in her eyes. She looked like a lost child. Unable to stop himself, he pulled her into his arms and she sobbed against him. She sniffled and snorted and wept. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I told you that you should go back—”
    “Hush,” he said, holding her tighter. “This is why I’m here.”
    She inhaled deeply and let it out in a jagged, uneven breath.
    He stroked her hair the same way he would comfort a child, all the while aware—terribly aware—that she was a woman. “Does this mean we have to eat the animal crackers in his honor?”
    She gave a weak chuckle and looked up at him. “No. He didn’t usually have animal crackers on his birthday. Just the regular birthday cake, yellow cake, white frosting, candles.” She rubbed the tears from her cheeks. “Sorry.”
    “It’s okay. What do you want to do this evening?”
    “I don’t know. Maybe look at some photographs. I’d toast him, but I don’t think I have any alcohol.”
    “I can take care of that,” he offered.
    She took a step back and shook her head. “Oh, no. You can’t stay. This is really going to be maudlin and I’ll just keep this to myself.”
    He immediately felt the gap where she’d been. “Are you saying I’m not invited?”
    She opened her mouth and worked it, but nothing came out. “Well, it’s not going to be a fun time.”
    “I miss him, too,” he confessed.
    She looked at him for a long moment. “Okay. You can come to my pity party if you really want to.”
    “Let me go pick up something for toasting first,” he said, pointing at her. “I’ll be back in a flash. Don’t start without me.”
    She shrugged. “Whatever you say.”
    Twenty-two minutes later, he returned with tequila, salt, lime, a birthday cake and two shot glasses.
    She raised her eyebrows at his purchase. “That looks like an interesting taste combination.”
    “After you drink a couple shots, your taste buds will be numb and it won’t matter.”
    She gave a weak laugh. “That’s good to know.”
    Brock washed out the glasses and sliced the lime while she cut a couple pieces of cake. “Where’s the party?”
    “The den,” she said, licking the frosting from one of her fingers.
    “I’m ready when you are,” he said and followed her out of the kitchen.
    Crossing her legs over each other, she set the pieces of cake aside and picked up a large photo album. “Let’s start with the first birthday. He was cute even when he was a baby.”
    “He was,” Brock agreed, seeing the same sparkle in the baby’s eyes that he’d seen in Rob’s eyes.
    “He walked early and loved anything on wheels,” she continued.
    “Yep, he got a kick out of the vehicles the Marines used.”
    “He drove a motorcycle before he was old enough to get his driver’s license, but he didn’t get caught.” She shook her head. “He never got caught.”
    Except when he stepped on that mine. He got caught then. Brock’s chest contracted so sharply he couldn’t breathe. He shook some salt on his hand, licked it, poured a shot of tequila, downed it and sucked on a lime.
    He felt Callie’s gaze on him. “That always looked like it required a lot of coordination to me.”
    “You’ve never had tequila?”
    “That would require me going to a bar, and the only times I went to bars I was with Rob. He always got me one of those drinks with the little umbrellas.”
    “You want to try a shot?” he