A Summer to Remember by Marilyn Pappano Read Free Book Online

remarked.
    “Nah, we just think alike. Everything’s in its logical location. Do you cook much?”
    “It depends. My friends are incredible cooks who keep my freezer well stocked. And sometimes a peanut butter sandwich is the only thing I need.”
    He wondered if that was because cooking for one was a lot more effort than seemed logical. No matter how hard he tried, it just wasn’t possible to make a bunch of his favorite recipes without having leftovers. “Peanut butter is one of my major food groups. I like it best with sliced banana and a drizzle of syrup or caramel sauce.”
    “Oh, no. Just plain smooth Jif. On a slice of white bread. Folded in half.” She made a yum noise, then smiled. “Pure comfort in a sandwich.”
    She looked like she’d needed that comfort more in recent months than anyone should. He respected the sacrifices Scott had made, but Fia had had to make them, too. That was the reason Elliot had never looked for a serious relationship in the Army, not when he’d spent all his time in Afghanistan, getting ready to go there, or just coming back. He’d chosen that life for himself. It wouldn’t have been right to choose it for someone else.
    At least, that was one of the reasons. Mostly he’d been unattached because he hadn’t met the right woman. For her, he would have given up a lot. Just as Fia had given up a lot for Scott.
    “You like onion?” Elliot tossed a sweet yellow onion into the air, catching it easily. “I noticed last night you didn’t want it.”
    “Close quarters and onion breath?” She shuddered. “Besides, I knew I’d be sharing with Mouse if you didn’t mind, and my friend Jessy says dogs shouldn’t eat onions. But tonight, Mouse will have to look elsewhere.”
    He laid the onion on the cutting board, and then reached for the knife roll he’d carried in with the groceries. Fia’s gaze sharpened, then widened. “Oh my gosh, you travel with your own knives? I buy mine at Walmart, and then throw them away after I’ve sharpened them down to a nub. You are a serious cook, aren’t you?”
    He removed a six-inch utility knife, and sliced the ends from the onion. “I considered going to culinary school when I got out of the Army. Seriously. I thought it would be nice to be in a field where the only danger is an occasional cut or burn or a fallen soufflé.”
    “Okay, I am officially impressed. I can’t remember the last time a man cooked for me”—the flash of emotion in her dark eyes suggested that, to the contrary, she knew to the day the last time Scott had cooked for her—“and I’ve never known a man who had his own knives. I mean, cooking knives. Every guy I’ve known has pocket knives or switch blades or hunting knives.”
    “It’s hard to chop an onion with any of those.” He let his gaze shift for a moment around the living room. The furnishings were a little sparse for his tastes, but the clean lines and lack of clutter worked. The colors and patterns were subdued, with only the textures varying, except when it came to the wall that held the television. The bright-colored, energetic photos there were the only personal touch in the room: portraits and snapshots of Scott, in and out of uniform, smiling, somber, weary. Almost all of the pictures of him in the desert were taken with the sun setting in the background. It was the same in the one photo that included Fia—their wedding portrait, gazing at each other with the sun sinking behind them.
    She was beautiful. Scott was sharp in his dress uniform. They were both incredibly happy.
    Life isn’t fair. But Elliot knew it never had been and never would be. Horrible people lived and prospered; good people failed and died. Man’s cruelty to others had reached historic highs, with the weaker, the younger, and the innocent bearing the brunt of it. People believed they were special and everyone else was expendable. Soldiers died, and brides became widows.
    But that was the big picture. There were good,