Sounded like a lot of work to Darla. She’d stick with managing bread dough, thank you very much.

Darla pushed the remainder of the macaroni and cheese toward Eggie.

“What?” he asked.

“You’ve been eyeing it. You might as well finish it.”

“Have you had enough?”

“Eggie, I’ve had enough if I was three people. So go on.” But when he didn’t move fast enough for her, Darla helped him out by putting one of the steaks on his plate and followed that up with several big spoonfuls of the mac and cheese.

He studied his plate for several seconds before he looked at her. “You tryin’ to tell me something?”

“Yes. Now eat.”

While the wolf ate, Darla picked up her glass of sweet tea and looked around his kitchen. She had a feeling his mother had a lot to do with this room. It was nicely equipped and roomy. Maybe she used it when she needed extra space.

“So, Egbert Ray ... what do you do in the Marines?”

He stopped eating, his fork hovering by his mouth. His eyes focused on her and narrowed a little bit. “Why are you asking?”

“Because I’m a spy.”

He lowered his fork. “What?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m just sittin’ here pumping you for information. That’s what I do for the, um, Viet Cong.”

His fork hit the plate. “Do not joke about that, Darla Mae.”

“Oh, come on,” she scoffed. “Who’d believe that I would be helping the Viet Cong?”

“Everybody. They’re all paranoid right now, so I wouldn’t joke about that if I were you.”

“Nice Southern gals like me don’t spy.”

“Then why did you say it?”

“Because I’m trying to get you to talk. It’s called a conversation, Egbert Ray.”

“I ain’t chatty.”

“Fine.” Darla pushed back her chair and picked up her plate and fork. She carried them to the sink and turned on the faucet. As she began to search for soap and a sponge, she realized that Eggie stood next to her, carefully placing his own dish and fork in the sink.

“I’ve never been to Vietnam,” he told her, his gaze out the window. “Never had a tour there.”

Nearly everyone that Darla knew who’d been in the military in the last ten years had spent some time in that war-torn country.

“But you’ve been somewhere, right?” She could tell by the scars, the way his body always seemed coiled and ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation. This was not a man untouched by battle.

Eggie scratched his forehead before facing her. “I’m in what they’re about to start calling the Unit.”

“Oh!” She nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“Youdon’t know what that is, do you?”

“Do I need to?” When he rolled his eyes, she quickly added, “Look, I don’t believe in all this war and fightin’. As a matter of fact . . . I’m a pacifist.”

Eggie stared at her. “How can you be a predator and a pacifist?”

“It’s possible.”

“Do you still hunt down your own meat?”

“I’m a pacifist, Eggie Ray. I didn’t say I was a vegetarian.”

“A vege-what?”

“Forget it.” She motioned him away from the sink. “Go on and get the rest of the bowls and things. I’ll do the dishes.”

“You should be resting.”

“Do not annoy me, Eggie Ray.”

“Thought you were a pacifist—ow! What was that for?” he demanded while rubbing his ankle.

“Gettin’ on my nerves. Now do as I tell ya and don’t even think about arguing with me.”

He lowered his leg. “You sure are a pushy pacifist.”

Darla grinned. “Because I’m also a feminist.”

Eggie’s head tipped to the side, reminding her a little of a dog hearing a weird noise. “Why?”

“What do you mean why? Do you actually believe that women are treated fairly in this society?”

“No. But you’re a She-wolf.”

“So?”

“So no wolf is ever going to tell you that you can’t do something unless he really hopes to get his throat torn out.”

And what really annoyed her was that he was right, but that wasn’t the point. “That’s true, but I’m thinking about all women.”

“But you’re a She-wolf.”

“I know what I am, Eggie.”

“Then I don’t see the point.”

“You know what?” she snapped. “We’re done talking about this.”

“You were the one who said you wanted a conversation.”

“Well I changed my mind!”

“No need to yell, Darla Mae. I’m standing right here.”

She let out a heavy sigh and again faced the sink. “Get the rest of the dishes,” she ordered.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Didn’t mean to make you mad.”

Startled, Darla looked at Eggie. “I’m not mad.”

“You’re not?”

“Lord, no, Eggie. Annoyed? A bit. But not mad. When I’m mad . . . you can really tell.”

“Is it worse than . . . this?”

“This?” Darla laughed and patted Eggie on the arm. “This is nothing.”

His brow lowered but he didn’t look angry this time. Just confused. “Really?”