Page 23 of Stalkers Anonymous

“Hayride.”

“Hayride.”

“That’s you, apparently.”

“How…festive.” A laugh cracks out of her, and those stunning eyes return to mine. “And what did she write on yours?”

I sigh, a mischievous smile on my lips.

“Let me guess…‘Coke’?”

I heave an exaggerated sigh. “She called me Coke, so Jack is calling me Coke, and now I think I’ve been legally renamed.”

“Oh my God.” She’s grinning now, head tilted toward the counter. “Is she okay?”

“I think she’s a person being slowly overridden by autocorrect.”

“That’s exactly what she is. She’s a phone in a human costume.”

“Coke and Hayride,” I say. “Sounds like an unsuccessful country duo.”

“With one mediocre album.”

“And a regrettable Christmas single.”

She’s still laughing as she takes a sip of her latte.

“So,” I say, “it’s kind of wild running into you here.”

“I guess Fort Collins is smaller than I thought,” she replies, wrapping her hands around the warm cup. “Plus, this is the best coffee near the hospital. I come here before most of my shifts.”

I file that information away before I can stop myself, then immediately feel guilty about it.

“I keep thinking about how lucky we were that you had rappelling gear in your pack.” She studies me over the rim of her mug. “You said you always carry it?”

“Force of habit. I like to be prepared.”

“Military habits die hard?” She lifts an eyebrow, waiting for confirmation, and I nod. “That makes sense. My parents are both Army. I grew up on bases all over.”

I lean forward, intrigued. “No kidding? Where’d you end up?”

“Fort Bragg was the longest—four years during high school. But we moved around a lot before that. Germany for a couple of years, Texas, North Carolina. You?”

“Two tours in Afghanistan. Military intelligence.” I pause. “That sounds more exciting than it actually was. Lots of sitting in front of computers in secure facilities.” I leave out the exciting bits I wish I could talk about but can’t, like the top-secret missions Jack flew my squad in and out of over the years.

“Somehow, I doubt that’s the whole story,” she says, her blue-gray eyes sparkling with amusement. “But I won’t pry.”

“I appreciate that.” And I do. Most people either don’t care about military service or want to hear war stories. Polite indifference is a welcome change. “What about you? How’d you end up in Colorado?”

“I wanted to pick my own place for once. I grew up moving every couple years, so I wanted somewhere that felt like a choice.” She takes a sip of her latte, testing the temperature. “Plus, I love the mountains. Hiking, climbing—well, the little bit of climbing I’ve done—just being outside.”

“Hence, Horsetooth on your day off.”

“Exactly. Being in nature is like…my reset button. After a few night shifts dealing with chaos, I need the quiet.” She leans forward slightly. “What about you? What do you do when you’re not rescuing climbers or carrying suspiciously useful emergency equipment?”

A laugh rumbles through my chest, and it feels so good. “I work the tech side of Jack’s security business these days. Find vulnerabilities in networks, help companies protect their data.”

“And you like it?”