A Candle for a Marine (Always a Marine) Read Online Free PDF Page B

these? And what else can I do to help?”
    Exasperation twisted her smile, and she chuckled. “I keep some for projects in a closet in the hall. If you could stick those there, the rest can go out to the recycle can. I have some other supplies that came in with the mail yesterday. I want to unpack those, too. Then I need to move the Toys for Tots collection box up to the very front.”
    “Okay. I’ll get on it.” He headed out to the hall to find the closet and paused in the doorway. “Oh, and Zehava?”
    “Yes?” Color warmed her cheeks, and the spark in her eyes dried her tears.
    “We were dating that first year. I don’t care what anyone else said or thought. You were my girl.” He held her gaze a heartbeat longer and then left her to digest the news. It didn’t take him but a minute to find the closet with the supplies in it—including a stack of collapsed cardboard. The Toys for Tots collection box sat at the end of the hall, only about a quarter full. It proved more awkward than heavy when he carted it toward the front.
    Not entirely sure why he’d wanted it clear he considered that first year a year they dated, but in truth he’d left little doubt for any other potential parties that she’d been off the market. Absolutely no doubt.
    After getting the collection box in place, he found Zehava hoisting a heavy carton of mailing labels and postage off a stack just inside the door. Plucking it out of her hands, he lifted his brows. “Same room with the pottery cra—er—stuff?”
    “Yes, please.” It didn’t surprise him when she grabbed another and followed. Together the work went quickly.
    “Need them opened or closed?” He carried the last three in together, ignoring her growing frustration. Irritating her was fun.
    “Open. I have—” She stopped when he pulled his pocket knife out and started slicing the lids open. “Well, since you’re into granting wishes, I need to sweep up and check the candle supplies. I want every child to have their own menorah tonight, if they want to light one personally.”
    “Okay, I’ll get this unpacked and come find you.”
    The contents turned out to be sketchpads, pencils, oil paints, watercolors, and brushes. The number of art supplies varied, and an invoice stuck to the top of one indicated they were also pretty pricey.
    Sorting the items into stacks and putting like with like, he didn’t miss the fact that instead of heading off to take care of her chores, she remained and watched him.
    “Isaac, what are you doing?”
    “Um, trying to figure out what this is.” He turned the plastic-wrapped black brick over.
    “They’re charcoal pencils for shading.” She drifted over to stand next to him, teasing him with the sweetness of her scent, a combination of apples and brown sugar and something floral—gardenias maybe. The scent was simply Zehava to him, and his shoulders tensed. The urge to wrap an arm around her and pull her close so he could bury his face against her neck threatened to overwhelm him.
    “Isaac?”
    The butterfly-light caress of her fingers on his bare arm sent a shock through his system. Close enough to kiss, her parted lips were like a red flag waved at the bull of his restraint. Son of a bitch, Zach is right. I don’t hate her .
    He never had. Angry, disappointed, frustrated, and confounded with her—absolutely. But he didn’t hate her.
    “Yeah?” He bit off the babe he wanted to tack on. She’d never liked being called babe, and he only ever used it when he wanted to rile her up. As much fun as it would be to see anger flush her face and heat her gaze when he aroused her temper, it wasn’t a good idea. If the mental image of it played hell with his equilibrium, the reality would carry a dangerous weight for both of them.
    “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the help. I do.” She rested a hip on the table and folded her arms. “But please forgive me when I ask why?”
    A number of answers tumbled through his brain, and