Shayla lay in bed, staring out the window at the waves. It had been one of the things she wanted, a room with a view of the ocean. Although her mind wasn’t anywhere near sleep, she realized it was almost midnight. She couldn’t get Scar’s face out of her mind, nor the way his grey T-shirt had stretched across his shoulders and the way his bicep, tricep, and all the other muscles she didn’t know how to pronounce had stretched and contracted. The guy was ripped, and she thought she’d seen some tattoos on the edge of his shirt line.

Her thoughts went back and forth between Scar and Jason. She noticed Jason had tried to call her back. A day later. It was strange how even though part of her she still loved Jason, tonight she wasn’t hoping he’d show up. Stupidly happy that she wasn’t pining over Jason, she stared at the moon without really seeing it.

Her phone buzzed. Turning on her side, she checked it. Sure enough, it was Scar.

R u awake?

Happy he was texting her, but not wanting to seem overeager, she texted him back. Quit texting me.

You like it.

Why was he so perceptive? She tried to quell the manic butterflies in her stomach.

He texted again. Can I call you?

Ugh! She didn’t want to talk to him. Didn’t want to hear his sultry voice. She thought of the scar on his face and the dimple in that same cheek. Yes, she replied.

Her phone rang. She let it ring three times before answering it. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said slowly.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. It felt intimate.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She had to smile, because the question reminded her of conversations she’d had with boys in junior high school. She decided to be honest. “Staring at the moon, thinking about everything.”

Hesitating, he said, “I had fun tonight. Thanks for going on the bike ride.”

She felt bad because he’d paid for it, but they had both enjoyed themselves. She decided to ask her question anyway. “You never told me the story of the scar.” She snuggled into her pillow and shut her eyes.

“I didn’t.” His voice was wistful.

She waited. “Are you going to tell me?”

“Are you going to say please?” he said teasingly.

She relented. “Please.”

He cleared his throat like he was launching into a grand story. “It was my second year in the SEALs—a special ops mission. I’m leaving out a lot of classified details, obviously. We landed on a pirate ship. A guy got me with a knife, right down my face.”

She flinched. “What?” It was unbelievable enough to think he’d really been a Special Ops SEAL, and even more unbelievable to think he’d had a knife cut down his face.

“I deserved it. I wasn’t paying attention.” He coughed. “Never made that mistake again.” He said it so drily. So matter-of-fact.

“What happened to the other guy?” When he didn’t answer, she knew. “You killed him?”

“Not able to release that information.”

Her mind flitted with questions. “How many people have you killed?”

He let out a short laugh. “No way.”

Her heart thundered. She sat up in bed and turned on the bedside lamp. It was ludicrous to her that he’d killed someone. She thought of his eyes. The pain, the darkness, the walls in them. “Holy …” He was actually a government-trained soldier. He’d been deployed to keep the country safe. She pulled her knees up to her chest and ran a hand through her hair.

“We shouldn’t talk about this. It’s not exactly pillow talk,” he said quietly.

“Pillow talk?”

“Ya know, nighttime talk between couples? There’s an old Clark Gable and Doris Day movie about two people who meet because they share an apartment wall. They bug each other and end up talking on the phone at night to each other.”

She frowned. “You watch old movies?”

“I can’t watch an old movie?” he sputtered.

“No, of course you can. I’m just trying to put you together. This guy,” she said, rambling, “who gets in a fight with a waitress over how much his eggs are cooked, who scares off a creeper at the sports bar, and who rushes over to save me from a wild possum.”

He sighed, but she could hear the smile in his voice. “Well, we didn’t know it was a possum.”

“This same guy insists he pays for the bike ride around the island and watches old movies. This same guy also orders me to have dinner with him, as if he couldn’t get a million dates.” Oops, the words were out before her brain could catch up.

“A million might be high, but at least five hundred thousand.”

Okay, she’d asked for that. “Who is annoying and cocky too.”

“Kidding, sheesh. Maybe just a couple of hundred.”

She laughed. “Exactly. This is the same man who watches movies with the name Pillow Talk?” She wondered where he was. Was he in bed, sitting, standing, inside, outside? Completely distracted, she wondered if he had a shirt on. Which was stupid. Why was she even thinking about that?

“My mother liked old movies. We watched a lot of them before my parents divorced.”

Again, she couldn’t stop herself from prying. “Is your mother in San Diego?”

“Nope,” he said quickly. “She’s dead.”

This was like a punch to the gut. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. It was a long time ago.”

She didn’t know what to say, but now she wondered what other problems he might have that she hadn’t even imagined.

“Guess that was a conversation killer.” He sighed again. “It’s what I do with women, always know how to end the convo. I’m really good at that.”

It was funny to her that he sounded so military all of the time. It was also interesting to hear him sound vulnerable about women. But she wasn’t going to make fun of him for it at this moment. She wanted to ask something else. “So how many conversations have you ended?”

“Oh.”

Part of her wished they were in person right now so she could judge his body language. Part of her worried that maybe he was a player type. He did play professional football, after all.

“I had a girl who broke my heart after high school. She ‘Dear Johned’ me after my first year in the SEALs, said she found someone else.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. I also had a woman I dated for about six months last year who told me she wouldn’t stay with me if I didn’t get rid of the scar.”

“No!”

He let out what sounded like an awkward laugh. “Maybe you don’t want to date a scar face either.”

“No,” she said quickly. “I mean, I never said I would date you.” Her heart raced. Did this fabulous-looking, older, slightly intimidating guy really want to date her? “But that has nothing to do with the scar.”

He roared with laughter. Before she could fully recover and figure out what to say, he asked, “So what’s the deal with you, Kansas girl?”

She turned off the light and lay back down, wondering why the nickname was growing on her. “Hold on.” She snuggled and lay back in bed, pulling the covers up.

“Are you getting comfy?” His tone had turned softer.

“Yeah, I’m lying in bed, pulling the covers up.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Where are you?”

“In bed, on top of the covers. Don’t ask what I’m wearing.”

Rolling her eyes, she laughed. “Ha ha.” Now all she could think about was what he was wearing. She wanted to ask if he had a shirt on, but she wouldn’t.

“I don’t have my shirt on.”

She giggled. “Why would you say that?”

He laughed. “Because you were wondering.”

“No, I wasn’t.” She denied it, glad they weren’t face to face so he didn’t have to see her turning red.

“Gym shorts.”

She didn’t comment on that, but knew her face was flaming red. It was weird he’d said it, like he was responding to her thoughts. She shook herself; he was probably wondering what she was wearing. “Grandma nightgown, bunny slippers, and hair rollers.” It was what her grandma always wore.

He laughed. “O-kay. Guess that’s the visual I’ll have of you.”

“Good. You should have that visual.”

“Fair enough.” He hummed. “Tell me more about you, please.”

Shayla collected her thoughts. “As you kind of know, my parents are both farmers. Mom stayed home, but really worked side by side with Dad. I have one older brother and one younger one. They love torturing me.”

This elicited a laugh.

“I don’t know why I told you that.”

“Pillow talk,” he responded, like that should explain it all.

“Right.”

“Continue.”

It was actually relaxing, she realized, not to have to worry about being close to him. He was so distracting when he was around. She thought of the dog tags he wore around his neck and the way his jaw had clenched when he’d thought there was an intruder. She thought about how she was talking to him like this on the phone.

“Kansas, keep going.”

“I …” She hesitated. “As you know, I had a boyfriend I thought supported my dream.”

“Right, the boyfriend.”

She quickly added, “Not that that’s relevant.”

He didn’t speak right away. After a brief pause, he said, “I’m sorry about your boyfriend. It’s hard to be alone and start over. You’re living your dream, though. You should be proud.”

A skittering laugh came out of her. “I don’t know if proud is how I feel at the moment. Just trying to keep my head above water. Make a few bucks waitressing, get through this summer class, and keep the local possum from killing me.”

“You’re doing good.”

It was stupid, but hearing those words actually made her tear up. “I miss my parents.” She felt weak admitting it. “Which is funny, because I fought with my dad about coming and doing this for forever. He thinks I should still be in school in Kansas and then marry Jason and relocate to our hometown, work in HR at the local power plant, and have a passel of kids.” She sighed. “I don’t know why I’m telling you that.”

There was no answer for a bit.

“I shouldn’t be talking about—”

He interrupted. “Do you want that?”

“What? No. But no one else understands,” she said quietly.

“You’re doing exactly what you should be doing.”

“I know.”

“I know you know, but you’re doubting yourself. Stop doing that.”

It made her smile. He sounded commander-ish. “Thanks.” Her voice cracked. “I just hope this is what God wants me to be doing.”

Another long pause ensued. She wondered if he even believed in God.

“Well, Kansas, why don’t you ask Him?”

“What?”

“Pray, silly.” He said the last word quietly. It made her smile. He had a soft side.

There was another moment of silence.

“I better go,” she said slowly. “I have to get up at five.” Why did she feel like she owed him an explanation? It was strange. This thing between them was completely new for her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said casually.

Would she see him tomorrow? “Sounds good.”

“Night,” he said.

“Night.”