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Was he the hottest man she’d ever dated? No. Did he make every nerve ending in her body stand up and take notice? Never. However, he also hadn’t broken her heart, and it was likely he never would. Stuart made no secret that if he thought there was any chance at all she’d say yes, he’d propose to her tomorrow.
“Aine?”
“What?”
“I asked you a question,” Ava said with a hand on her hip.
“Sorry. I didn’t hear you.”
“What movie, and where did you go to dinner?”
“Um, some spy movie, and we ate at the brewery. Listen, I’m supposed to meet Mom for a pedicure. I’ll catch up with you later.”
Aine wasn’t supposed to meet their mother until this afternoon, but it was the only thing she could think of to get away from Ava and give herself time to think.
A year ago, she and Griffin Ellis—whom she should start calling Striker like everyone else—were embarking on what she thought was going to be a serious relationship. They’d spent Thanksgiving together, and even though he had been on a mission, he made it home on Christmas Day to be with her. Between then and the end of February, she’d all but moved into his McLean, Virginia, condominium with him.
At the beginning of March, things fell apart. Aine still had a hard time processing what had happened, not that it mattered now. It was over, and while her heart hadn’t accepted it yet, her brain was at least partially on board.
She only hoped that she could manage to avoid running into Striker Ellis while he was in town.
2
“I thought we weren’t meeting until tomorrow,” Striker said to Razor when the man opened the front door and welcomed them in.
Razor ignored him but shook hands with Ranger and Diesel. “Did you review the proposal Merrigan sent over?” he asked each of them.
While Striker didn’t know what the proposal said exactly, his assumption was that Doc’s wife, K19’s managing director, was offering each of the former CIA agents a job. Maybe that’s why Monk brought them here instead of the hotel. If that was the case, Striker wondered if he could beg off and go to the Overleaf on his own.
He was about to ask when Razor turned his head. Striker followed the man’s gaze over to where his wife, Aine’s identical twin sister, sat, holding a baby. Her likeness caused a heaviness to settle on his chest.
“How’s he doing, Avarie?” Razor asked.
“He’s fine. I guess I shouldn’t have eaten that leftover Indian food for lunch. Could you hold him for a minute?” she asked.
“Come meet the guys,” Razor said, taking the baby from her arms and walking over to where Striker stood with Ranger and Diesel.
“This is Tabon Samual Sharp VI, who we call Sam.”
Neither of the other two guys seemed to know what to do any more than Striker did.
“You wanna hold him?” Razor asked him.
No, he didn’t want to hold a damn baby. WTF?
Razor laughed out loud. “You should see your face right now.”
“I got a nephew who’s six months,” said Diesel, sounding as awkward as Striker felt and Ranger looked.
“Sam is four months.”
Striker shifted on his feet, wondering how long they’d have to talk about a little human who was presently drooling so much that the neck of his tiny shirt was wet.
Ava came back and took the baby from Razor’s arms. “How are you, Striker?”
“Good, thanks. Do you know Ranger and Diesel?”
Ava nodded and said hello before turning back to him. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
