It made sense. At thirty-five, she was still in the optimum window for recruitment. She had military experience and knew how to pilot. She spoke two languages, had shown a willingness to learn more, and an interest in living abroad.
Above all, she’d proven herself more than capable under pressure. I’d had that exact thought the morning we’d swapped vehicles with Fletcher.She would have made an impressive operative.
“You don’t think I could do it?” she asked.
I dropped my elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Jesus, I think you’d be amazing. But you have to give up a lot.”
Like the idea of this thing continuing between us. It’d be hard enough with one of us in the CIA, but both? Impossible. Again, she looked at her menu, not able to hold my gaze.
I did my best to keep judgment from my voice. “How seriously are you considering it?”
“I told them I’d think about it. I have a long-term job offer from Osterhägen that I’m considering as well.”
“When do you have to make your decision?”
“Before the new year.”
Today was the nineteenth. It meant I had less than two weeks to make my case, and instantly I was thinking about plans. I leaned back in my seat and drummed my fingers softly against the tabletop until she stopped me, covering my hand with hers.
“Let’s talk about something else,” she said.
We’d slept together. Been to hell and back with each other. But we hadn’t been on a date together, and I didn’t want to mess up our first one.
Over our meal, we discussed her visit with her father, my psych evaluation, and then branched out to topics we hadn’t touched before. Music we loved. Food we couldn’t stand. What our siblings did for a living. It was foreign and exciting to have a normal conversation and get to reveal the real me.
After dinner, she excused herself to the bathroom, and I sent an email to Shawn. It was the middle of the night in Munich, but hopefully he’d have an answer for me tomorrow morning.
She came back to the table, slipped into her chair, and smiled warmly. “What now, Foster?”
It had a distinct ‘your place or mine’ tone I appreciated, but my shoulders slumped and it nearly killed me to say it. “Now we say goodnight.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What?”
“Look, if you’re going to take Hendrix’s offer, we should stop here. You get that, right?” Because what I felt for her was already way too strong, and it would only intensify the more we saw each other.
She didn’t just look disappointed, she looked heartbroken. “Oh.”
“I’m not going to tell you what to do or stand in the way. If you want it, go for it. But before you make that decision, I need a favor.”
“What is it?”
“Are you heading back to Detroit tomorrow?” When she nodded, I added, “Cancel your flight and I’ll pick you up in the morning. Will you do it?”
She struggled to process what I was asking.
“I think you’ll like it,” I encouraged.
She swallowed a breath. “All right.”
The next afternoon, an Osterhägen plane was waiting for us. I’d woken this morning to a response telling me the smaller jet was already enroute.
“Where are we going?” Olivia asked as we boarded. “Is it a long flight?”
“You’re welcome to try to make me talk.” I took the rear-facing seat across from the one she chose so we could look at each other during the flight. Her eyes filled with heat at my suggestion. But she was a good little passenger and buckled her seatbelt.
When we finished climbing and the plane leveled off, she shot me an evaluating look. “How’s your back?”
“It’s okay.”
