Or would be at night with the whole of the Strip glittering like a diamond runway. Then the white walls hit her. The nothing. No pictures, no plants, no books, no mementos from his travels. He put his keys in his pocket.
“See? Not very homey.”
“You didn’t strike me as being a neat freak.”
“I have someone come in to clean.”
“To clean what? Do you have a closet filled to the brim somewhere in the back?”
“Nope. But I do have an ice machine, and a table. We can have that half a sandwich now.”
“Good. I’m famished.” She put the bag from the restaurant on the table and started unpacking. There wasn’t much. A couple of Dr. Brown’s sodas, two huge sandwiches and a few dill pickles.
John filled glasses with ice and came to sit across from her. “It’s not that I’m neat,” he said. “I’m just never here. When I’m not on leave, I work twelve- to fourteen-hour days. That’s not even counting when I’m deployed. I can be gone six months at a time.”
“But you have a housekeeper,” she said, carefully spreading her packet of mustard on her rye. “Although I’m not sure what she’d have to do besides dust. I mean, you don’t even have mail on the counter. That’s unnatural.”
He shrugged as he took an enormous bite. She, on the other hand, had to put half the meat from her sandwich on the wax paper it had come in. After a minute, he said, “I don’t have mail because most of it goes to my sister. She pays the bills from a joint account I set up. It’s easier when I’m out of the country.”
Cassie shook her head. “I swear. What is it about brothers who refuse to grow up?” Then she took her own bite and moaned at the still-warm pastrami. When she looked at John, expecting to find him devouring more of his food, she found him frowning at her instead. She waved her hand at him until she could tell him, “I was kidding. Sheesh.”
“I know,” he said, without an ounce of conviction. “The way you work and go to school, I don’t see how you can have so many things. I mean, I get art, I’m not a complete cretin, but the plants. The goldfish. Those take work, and you’ve got dozens.”
“Only two goldfish. In one bowl.”
He rolled his eyes, moving in on a pickle.
“I like having living things around me,” she said. “I breathe deeper, walking into a room full of plants. And I love being able to look at pictures or souvenirs that remind me of wonderful memories. I think, if anyone ever cared to, they could put together a very accurate portrait of my life from all the clues I’ve left. That means a lot to me.”
He tipped his head, chewing away, as if telling her he got her point, even if he didn’t share the sentiment. “We moved around so much that I never really took to the notion of nesting. My mom made an effort. We had a lot of company, so she wanted things to look nice. All you’d have been able to read back then was that we were an air force family down to the bone. And then, within a year or two, we had to pack all the crap she’d put on the walls, and fill in all the holes left from the nails, repaint. It was a pain in the ass.”
“Okay,” Cassie said. “I get that. But we never had a home, either. Not like most people. We traveled with the weather. Stayed at campsites, motels, friends’ houses. I’ve been in Vegas longer than any other place. I’d like to get a job here, stay. Especially because of the bar. Tommy can be a complete jerk, but he’s mine. And I love him. That being said, I’ll go where the work sends me.”
John put down his sandwich without taking the last bite. His gaze was pointed toward her, but he wasn’t seeing her. Cassie’s chest tightened, she had no idea why.
“In nine days, I have to decide whether I’m going to sign up for another tour.”
She started to tease him about the obviousness of the answer but it sunk in, what he’d really said. He hadn’t made up his mind. Which made no sense. He was a fighter pilot. A profession way up there in the dream-job list. Although...he never talked about flying. At all. He barely wanted her to know what he did. Huh.