Damn.I already knew she was smart, but the fact that she’d graduated Stanford confirmed it. She must have had a scholarship or be loaded to afford an expensive school like that. It was a big reason I’d joined the navy—to pay for my education.
“If you didn’t work in publishing, what would you want to do?” I asked.
“Hmm.” Even though I had no idea what she looked like, I could imagine her tapping a finger to her lips.
What color were they? How plump were they? What would they look like wrapped around my cock? I cleared my throat, shifting on the bed as the image of that threatened to distract me.
“Honestly…I’m not sure. Maybe marketing for a nonprofit.”
“That’s admirable.” I liked that she was focused on service, on giving back to the community. “What kind of nonprofit?”
“One that focuses on early childhood literacy or at-risk youth. In the past, I’ve helped my dad with some charity work, and I always enjoyed the ones that focused on kids.”
“Because you want to have kids of your own?” I cringed as soon as the words left my mouth, wishing I could take them back. For all I knew, she already had kids. Though I didn’t think that was the case.
“No.” She barked out a laugh, surprising me. “Because I was fortunate enough—despite my parents’ divorce—to have a good childhood. And I know not everyone is as fortunate.”
“True,” I muttered, thinking how accurate that was for myself. “Do you have siblings?”
“Nope. Only child. And before you say it—yes, I was spoiled rotten.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said. “You can’t be too spoiled if you want to focus on giving back.”
She was quiet for a moment, likely digesting my words. Then she said, “What about you?”
“What about me?” I asked.
“If you hadn’t become a SEAL, what would you have done?”
I stared at the ceiling and blew out a breath. “Honestly, I don’t know. I never really thought about it. Being a SEAL was more than a career—it was my life. Now Cole Security is my life. These men are my family.”
“I get that,” she said. “Are you based in California or Virginia? Or can you even tell me?”
I chuckled. “Someone’s been doing their homework.”
“I kind of had to if—” She stopped short, and I wondered why.
“If what?”
“If I was going to pitch a program like Spines for Soldiers to my boss.”
My eyes went wide, a pit forming in my stomach.Oh shit.
“This program was your idea?” I asked, feeling even more awful for dissing it.
“Yes.” Her voice was quiet.
“God, I’m an ass.”
“You mean Coleman was an ass,” she teased, referring to my imaginary evil twin.
“Yeah. Right. Coleman was an ass,” I said, feeling marginally better about the fact that she was joking about it. My tone was more solemn when I spoke again. “I’m so sorry, Olivia. I’m sure you put a lot of thought and consideration into the program. I never should have attacked it.”
“It’s… Yeah, your response was disappointing, but I understand why now. And besides, this program was intended to help soldiers, not frustrate them. So, if you have any thoughts on how to improve it, I’d love to hear them.”
Wow. Seriously? Could she be more gracious?
I’d attacked her program, insulted her, and while she’d stood up to me, she’d done it with her head held high. And now, she was asking for my opinion. I admired the hell out of her—for seeking constructive criticism, for striving for improvement.
