Sly led her to her quarters, “02 Deck, Frame 8, 3-L. Odd number means you’re to starboard side. L is living space.”
“Knew that.”
“Figures,” Sly muttered to himself. She’d mentioned being ashore for two years, but she still had that fact. Clearly she had a mind like a steel trap despite his initial estimates of her intelligence.
“Ages ago,” she grinned at him. “I thought that neuron died while cooking for a bunch of brown-bagging bubbleheads.”
Funny.
Funny and cute.
Funny and gorgeous.
Don’t go there, Chief!
Leave it to the submarine corps to ignore a pretty chef and bring their own lunches from home when ashore. If he had a billet with a chef who looked like her, he’d never miss a single meal.
Though he was still chagrined that she’d spotted the attacking truck at the U.S. embassy
