"Is there any fake food this week?" I grumble.

"Nope."

She's trying to break me. If there's one thing people don't fuck with, it's a Marine's food, especially when he's home for a few days from Iraq. Does she know that, or is eating hippy food really the way she is?

"Physical activity isn't the only way to manage hyperactivity," she says. "I took a few psychology classes, nutrition and a bunch of other stuff. Chemicals in food are linked to behavioral issues. So, you rein in the kids your way, and I'll do it mine." Katya pours me coffee out of the slender metal carafe on our table.

I can't argue with her logic, even though I suspect she's more interested in torturing me than helping me tame the kids.

I dig in anyway. I'm surprised to find it doesn't taste as bad as I'm expecting. Sweet and tangy, the smooth yogurt is actually pretty good. It will never replace bacon in my life, but it's not bad.

Ten minutes later, we're leaving the mess hall and gathering around a rose garden nearby to hear morning announcements. Katya is texting on her phone and starts to wander off. Anticipating losing her several times today, I snag her belt, drawing her back to me.

"Stay with your team," I remind her.

She glares up at me. "You aren't my babysitter."

"I can be if you need one."

With a noisy snort, she tucks her phone away but doesn't try to leave again, staying where I put her in front of me, a little too close for my comfort. Not that I'm intimidated by her, but like this morning doing drills, I kind of like the idea of being close enough to touch her. Maybe it's because she smells like a woman - a mix of her own musk, fruity hair product, vanilla perfume and some sort of baby powder smell I think comes from helping Jenna get ready - or maybe it's because she is so completely feminine. Dressed in a fitted, long-sleeved camp polo and leggings that cling to her shape, she's sexy and fiery.

Whatever it is, standing this close almost makes up for her being a bitch most of the time. When she's quiet, I like being near her. When she's not, I know being too close might tempt me to strangle her. I'm feeling no animosity towards her now, despite the breakfast, instead interested in her scent and warmth.

We may get through this after all. I concentrate on Brianna, who is giving the line-up for the morning. I'm overly aware of how close Katya is and how perfectly her body fit against mine this morning during the drills. For the first time since we've met, she was semi-cooperative and quiet for all of an hour. If she was like that more often, I might be in real danger of starting to like her.




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