Free Falling for Her Soldier by Ophelia London

“C is…” She cut herself off, her happy expression going blank for a split second.
    Charlie stared at her, feeling a charge in the air between them. Now is the time, he thought. The perfect, natural segue to bring it up. We’re both thinking the name…just tell her.
    “C,” he said after a swallow, “is Charlie.” He paused, letting the word hang in the air, gauging Ellie’s reaction. Something definitely flickered across her face, but a moment later it was gone.
    “Then delta, echo, foxtrot, golf,” she rattled off. “But we’d better get back to sierra.” She tossed a book at him. “Race you to zulu.”
    The moment was gone, and Charlie had blown it.
    They worked in relative silence for the next few minutes, as if they were both eager to move to the next step. Charlie realized he’d been having a great time just hanging out. He was surprised how easy it was to talk to her in a purely platonic manner. Even though, when they’d first entered that sunny room alone, his natural instinct was to slide his arms around Ellie, satisfying his pent-up curiosity. Was she as huggable as he imagined?
    He wasn’t about to try that, though. That was something the old Hunter would’ve done, taken her by surprise then let the chips fall where they may. Following that impulse with Ellie was probably a bad idea. But what about how she’d looked at him when she’d thanked him for his military service and held his hand? Her tenderness had stunned him so much he could hardly breathe. It didn’t help that every time she smiled or tugged at her T-shirt, the natural instinct to touch her flared up again.
    Sam would probably shoot him in the kneecaps if he knew what Charlie was thinking.
    Not long later, they both waved good-bye to Chick and said they’d be back in a few hours. Charlie’s car was in one of the first parking spots, since he’d arrived at the WS so early that morning.
    Ellie slowed when they reached the black Impala. “Yours?”
    “Yeah,” he said, unable to stop from smiling. “This is my baby. My pride and joy.”
    She tilted her head. “Aw. Men and their cars. Oldest love story in the book.” She walked its length, running a finger over the trunk. “I don’t recognize the make. What is it?”
    Charlie was about to answer but hesitated, his brain halting the words. Had he mentioned his car to Ellie in the e-mails? He couldn’t remember. It was a restored classic. He was in Sam’s unit. She wasn’t a ditz; she would piece it together.
    He took a beat before answering. “It’s a Chevy Impala.”
    Ellie seemed to be mulling over this information while Charlie held his breath, preparing to see the look in her eyes when it clicked.
    “Never heard of it,” she said with a shrug. “Pretty, though. Did you name it? A lot of guys name their cars.”
    “No,” he said, his muscles unclenching. “I always thought that was kind of douchey.”
    Ellie leaned against the bumper, her red hair falling over one eye. Hell, she could give those World War II pinup models a run for their money.
    “Hop in,” he said. “We’re going to the same place. I’ll drive.”
    She was biting her lip. This was obviously some kind of tell for when she was pondering something. A few moments later, her face cleared. “I’ll drive myself. Meet you there.”
    Charlie frowned. “Why?”
    “Just…” She was backing up toward the parking lot, like she couldn’t get away from him fast enough. “It’s on Park and Henderson. You can follow me.”
    Before Charlie could say another word, she was gone. The woman was a mystery, all right. A mystery he enjoyed unraveling.
    She was pulling from her parking space before Charlie had started the engine. The last thing he wanted was to lose her, so he raced out of the lot, keeping a close tail on the back of her white car with the “It’s a ballet thing—you wouldn’t get the pointe” bumper sticker.
    Charlie didn’t get the point, but he was pretty sure the extra e on the