It’d been a crazy day. Summer school moved at a fast pace. At the end of it, Shayla wanted to know who the heck cared about Romeo and Juliet and tragic love.

Shayla flopped face down on her bed. It was almost ten-thirty, and she’d been up since five. More importantly, she hadn’t really slept at all the night before. Her thoughts went back to the previous night. The only good thing about being so busy was that she couldn’t focus on the bad; now her mind drifted to the guy who grabbed her.

Trying to re-train her thoughts, she thought of the latest personal development book she’d read. “What you plant in your mind is sown in the physical world.” She loved all those kinds of precepts and principles. It was the thing that had helped her accomplish her dream thus far—changing her thoughts, asking different questions, focusing on the good.

She thought of the soldier’s dangerous, gorgeous face. She realized she didn’t even know his name, yet he cared. He had been of angry, but also protective. It was stupid how she created this whole backstory for him. He was military, flew the scary kind of missions. Killed people with his bare hands. The other night, when he’d thrown the stalker off of her, she’d thought he might kill the guy. He had looked that fierce for a moment.

Dang, the man was handsome. But there was no way he would be interested in her, right? And she wasn’t even really over Jason, was she?

Blocking that nagging inner voice that told her she really didn’t have a life between work and school, she rolled onto her back before sitting up. She needed to finish the stupid paper. Her professor wanted it emailed to him by midnight or he wouldn’t accept it.

She cracked open her laptop and reviewed the philosophical argument she was making for Romeo and Juliet, but she couldn’t find the right words. She needed to prove that Juliet was justified in killing herself. That was the argument. She could argue that. Juliet was in love. Love is blind. Juliet wouldn’t be happy without him. Could she prove that? She didn’t really believe that, did she? Wasn’t she happy without Jason? Yes. No. She was fine. Her head hurt.

Her phone rang. Without looking, she knew who it would be as she answered. “Hello?”

Hesitation. “Hey.”

It was funny to her that there was a familiarity already. “I don’t even know your name.”

“I know,” he said. “I don’t know yours either. I’ve named you Kansas in my head.”

Liking that he’d been thinking of her, she smiled. “My name’s Shayla Castle.”

“Okay, your real name doesn’t disappoint either.”

This pleased her, which was stupid. “Okay, so what’s yours?”

“Brandon Walker. My friends call me Scar.”

She bit back the obvious question. “Your name is nice, too.”

“Another story for another night,” he said.

“What?”

“You want to know about my scar. I’ll tell you another time.”

It put her on edge thinking this would be a normal thing, them talking. She hated how much she actually liked that idea.

He let out a quick exhale. “I wanted to check on you. How’s it going?”

“Thanks. I’m fine. You could have texted.”

“Nah. We have this thing happening.” His voice was soft.

“We do?” She found herself smiling.

“Yeah, we do.”

Neither of them spoke for a few seconds.

“Well, thank you,” she said, her heart pounding. The mystery of that scar still taunted her.

“What are you doing?” His words were stilted, and his discomfort made her relax more.

“I’m arguing the merits or justification that Juliet had for killing herself when she thought Romeo was dead.”

For a beat, he didn’t answer, like he was weighing his response on his tongue. “She was stupid. Plain and simple. Life is precious. Killing herself was a huge waste.”

Shayla disagreed. “She was in love. She was heartbroken.”

He barked out a laugh. “Life is worth more than love. She was reckless. She was too young to be messing around with a thug like Romeo. He shouldn’t have married her in the middle of the night. He would have gotten his throat cut if her father had known. That’s why he did it in the cloak of darkness.”

That was a valid argument, actually. She smiled. “Cloak of darkness, really? Should I put that in my paper?”

“Hey, I won’t complain if you feel the need to quote me.” His voice had gone husky.

Intrigued, she pushed aside her laptop and leaned against the back of her bed, thinking how this was getting interesting. “Why can’t you tell me about the scar now?”

He sighed. “You have no filter, do you, Kansas?”

The way he said “Kansas” sounded so good. Feeling a bit bad, she shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Seriously, another night. Let’s talk about your paper.”

“Sure.” She went back to the topic, even though she really wanted to know now. “Juliet had pledged her dying love to Romeo. Juliet trusted Romeo.”

“Still stupid and childish.”

“Was it? Because by Romeo’s actions we see that Romeo loved and trusted Juliet. He didn’t let it stand. She didn’t die by herself. He died too.”

He grunted. “So sacrifice for love is always worth it?”

“Always,” she said softly, feeling more convinced as she said it. “That’s why it was pretty awesome you jumped in to help me even though I don’t deserve it and you didn’t know me.”

“But I didn’t love you,” Scar pointed out. He said it so bluntly, she was thrown off balance. “I jumped in because I believe in humanity, goodness, honor, and duty.”

She found herself liking this man. A lot. “Love of country before love of self.”

“You do what’s right because it’s the right thing to do,” he said. “I had SEAL guys who proved that to me. Over and over.”

Her respect for him went up a notch. “You’re a SEAL?”

He cleared his throat. “Was. Got shot. Discharged with honors. I had the option of being regular military but turned it down.”

“What do you do currently?”

“Play football for the Texas Titans.”

This was unreal. She wasn’t really into football, but Jason had loved the Titans. “You play professional football?”

He scoffed. “I pretty much just get throttled most of the time. I’m on the practice team.”

She considered what SEALs did, then imagined what it was like on the practice team. “So you’re obviously masochistic.”

He laughed.

“What are you doing in San Diego?”

He cleared his throat. “I’m actually in San Diego for three to four weeks working on a project to design a facility for military vets. It’s a program that focuses on helping vets through sparring. There will also be counselors to help them and a coffee shop where they can hang out. No one would show up just to be psychoanalyzed, but if we can get them in for sparring and socializing, we can really help the ones who need it.”

“Wow. I’m a bit intimidated by you.”

“No,” he said, sounding shocked. “Don’t be.”

“How old are you?” she blurted, regretting the words as soon as they tumbled out. “Sorry, the no filter thing.” She cringed, knowing she sounded like an idiot and was grateful for the distance of the telephone while talking to him.

“Ah, you’re breaking my heart already, Shayla.”

Her heart rate kicked up a notch. Was he going to answer the question?

“I’m twenty-eight,” he said. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-one.”

He sighed. “Is that okay with you?”

Feeling uncertain, she said, “Yeah, that’s fine. I mean, whatever. It’s not like we’re dating or anything.”

He chuckled, a wonderful sound. “That dispels any intentions I had.”

Butterflies rushed through her and she knew she’d be blushing. Checking the time, she saw it was almost eleven-thirty. “I gotta go. Paper is due by midnight, and I still have to finish it.”

“Okay,” he said. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

Happiness surged through her. She pushed it away, not wanting to think it meant anything. He was way too old for her. “Sure.”

“Well, then, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”