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“LAST NIGHT I DREAMED I was surfing with Laird.”

Campbell’s face softens, but she doesn’t press me for more. Like every time we talk, she waits for me to gather my thoughts. I try to do the same for her, especially when she’s had a rough day with Hazel and she’s the only one who can console the baby.

I wish like hell I was there with her to help, and not just because I’m stuck in a country where we’re not wanted.

“He was laughing at me because I kept wiping out—so not like me. I’m an expert surfer.”

Campbell nods, a teasing light in her eyes. “Of course.”

As I pace the tent I’m living in, I toss the football one of the former residents left behind up and down. “Just wait until I get back.”

“You say that a lot.”

I glance at her. “I mean that a lot.”

“I’m simply hoping you can live up to the hype.” She shrugs a little, her loose shirt sliding off one creamy shoulder, so low that I get a glimpse of the uppermost swell of her breast.

I swallow hard at the sight, and my dick stirs.

“So far, I have to wait until you get back to see you surf, cook a steak on the grill, take me to the boardwalk, teach Hazel how to properly dig for sand fiddlers, fly a kite...” She taps each finger as she goes. “Did I miss anything?”

“Back rub.”

She snaps her fingers. “That’s right. But I’ve had that promised before and wonk, wonk, wonk... I was a sad trombone with a sore back.”

A part of me is jealous, because I know she’s serious, but the other part of me, the part that craves Campbell’s happiness, is pleased she’d say something like that. It means she trusts me with her past, and that’s she comfortable joking around about it, too.

“I’m going to do you so good.” I sway my hips back and forth, miming rubbing her back at the same time. “You’re going to love—”

“Die laughing at you.” She falls to one side, giggling, and my heart turns over in my chest at her reaction. She’s fucking adorable. “Please don’t ever do that dance again. Not even joking.”

“But those were my best moves.” I’m half tempted to bust out the running man, but there isn’t enough room in my tent.

“I’ll teach you new ones,” she says with a sassy wink, then presses her hands against her mouth. “I forgot to tell you, but I recorded Hazel rolling over last night. I’ll send it to you after we finish talking.”

“Holy shit. I want to see that.” I run a hand through my hair. “She’s going to be grown by the time I get home.”

“She’s four months old, Knight, not fourteen.”

“Yeah, but those four months represent two I’ve missed with her.”

Campbell gets all quiet, and I wonder if I’ve gone too far. “You talk a good game, King, but when reality hits you, things might be different.”

“All I know is that compared to this, where you guys are is heaven.”

“I know.” She licks her lips, making them shiny. Lush. “Do you think you could come home early?”

“Only if something bad happens at home, or command pulls us out.”

She raises a hand. “I vote command.”

“You, me, and all the other guys.” A yawn splits my face. I’m eight hours ahead of her, but I stay up as late as possible so we can talk over Skype, which she finally got after she agreed to use the iPad for our almost three times a week chats. “I don’t think I can stay up much longer, Cam.”

“Then go to bed.”

“Kiss Hazel for me.”

“She’ll eat your face back.” She mimes what Hazel does now whenever anyone tries to kiss her. It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. “Night Knight.”

“Funny.”

“Don’t blame me. I didn’t pick out your name.”

I cock a brow at her. “I think you need to get a burn jar.”

“Whatever.” She smiles at me. “Talk to you in two days.”

“Not if I email you first.”

“I hope so.”

We end our chat, and I ease down onto my cot, wishing like hell that command really would send us packing. At this point, I don’t see it happening. We’re making progress with the local leaders. Strangely enough, Boston’s Pashto is better than anyone else’s, so good that the leaders talk to him over higher-ups with similar command of the language.

“Hey, Big Poppa,” Boston says from outside. “You up?”

“Go away.”

He opens the flap and sticks his head in. “Next time you talk to Campbell, tell her I said hello.”

I flip him off.

“Seriously, dude, I mean it. She’s a good one.”

“I know she is.”

“Don’t fuck it up when she doesn’t need your help anymore.”

I turn his way. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Boston shoves the flap wider and steps inside. “Look, I don’t want to point out the obvious, but I do want to win a bet.”

“A bet on what?”

“How long you’ll stay with this one.”

“C’mon. Don’t y’all have better shit to do?”

“Yeah, no.” He holds his hands up. “Don’t pretend like your MO isn’t to love them until they don’t need you... and then move on to the next damsel in distress. The needier, the better.”

“Fuck you, Boston. You make me sound like a creepy who preys on women.”

“Nah, man. You’re the exact opposite. You want them to be happy and, uh, sufficient and whatnot.”

“And whatnot. Fuck me, who knew I was such an asshole to women?” I roll over, signaling I’m done with this conversation.

“You’re not a tool, King. You just can’t help yourself, but this time... it feels different.”

“Thank you, Dear Abby.” I grab the pillow and cover my head with it. “Now go the fuck to sleep.”

“Don’t make me lose the bet.”

“Don’t make me get out of bed.”

Boston leaves, but his words and accusations... they stay with me for a long time.