Isn't It Bromantic (Bromance Book Club #4) by Lyssa Kay Adams

            At first.

            His accusations, which were no different than a million others that had been hurled her way, hurt more than she could ever admit to him. Being paired with him now was only fitting. A soulless assignment alongside a man with no heart.

            Heavy footsteps outside her door made her breath catch in her throat. Not out of fear, but from tension. Two weeks on the road, and she and Tony had yet to reach a truce. She heard him breathe—a deep intake followed by a defeated exhale.

            Anna called out quietly, “I know you’re out there, Tony. What do you want?”

            The door slowly creaked open. She could barely make out his tall frame in the darkness. “Did I wake you?” he asked gruffly.

            “No.” She sighed and sat up. “I sleep about as much as you do.”

            He folded his arms across his broad chest. “You need to rest, Anna. We’re leaving early.”

            It was the kind of everyday gallantry that men like him expressed without thinking, but it always made Anna feel weak. Like she needed to be protected. A woman like her couldn’t afford to be treated that way. Everyone in this war had made assumptions about her from the minute she landed in Europe, all of them wrong and all of them based on old notions of what a woman should or should not be, do, say. She was pretty, so they assumed she was a lightweight. She was flirtatious, so they accused her of sleeping around. She was brave, so they called her risky. “You’re not asleep,” she countered. “Do men need less rest than women?”

            Tony’s sigh was long and weary. “Not everything I say is a knock against you, Anna. I’m just trying to make sure you’re ready for what we’re likely to find tomorrow.”

            A hasty burial ditch. That’s what the villagers had told them. Remains of American and British POWs who’d tried to run but were caught and executed. “I’m well aware of it.”

            He hesitated, and she felt more than saw his gaze upon her. His voice, when he finally spoke again, was low and raspy. “I’m 4F.”

            A hot flush rose up her cheeks as shame turned her blood to sludge. The designation—4F—meant he’d been denied entry into the military on medical grounds.

            “A heart murmur,” he said. “I tried to enlist three times after Pearl Harbor. The last time, I got caught using a fake name. I was almost arrested, so that’s why . . .”

            Anna stood up. “Tony—”

            He pulled away from the doorframe. His boots scuffed against the floor as he turned to leave. Anna acted without thinking. She crossed the room. “Wait. I’m sorry.”

            “For what?” he asked over his shoulder.

            “You know what. What I said to you back then was rude and ignorant and inconsiderate. I know as well as anyone that being a war correspondent is every bit as important to the effort as being a soldier on the field of battle, and I also know what it’s like to have people make the wrong assumption about you.”

            Tony turned around and shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat. “I overreacted. Let’s just forget it.”

            Frustration bubbled as he walked away from her toward the other bedroom. “Jack Armstrong,” she blurted.

            Tony turned around in the cramped hallway. “What?”

            “That’s his name, the man in the photo.”

            Tony approached her slowly. “He’s a pilot?”

            “Was.”

            Her quiet answer brought a curse under his breath. “I’m sorry, Anna.”

            She tried to shrug, but it was a weak effort. “That’s war, right?”

            “What happened?”

            “I don’t know. Technically, he’s missing in action. They said his B-24 went down over Frankfurt.”

            “He could have been taken prisoner,” he offered quietly.

            “I know.” She raised her chin. “I know more than anyone what we might find tomorrow, but I need you to know that’s not why I’m here, Tony. I am every bit the professional that you are. I am here to document this war in all its ugliness, just the same as you. When you questioned my motives before, it hurt. Especially coming from you.”