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“And you say you’re in intelligence?”
“Well, we don’t track moms very much in my job.”
She giggles.“Well if you did, you’d realize that not too many single moms walk around with Chanel purses, especially something as small as that.We generally graduate from a diaper bag straight into something like this.”She reaches behind her and lifts her massive purse up for me to see.“Big enough for hand sanitizer, Lysol wipes, tissues, snacks, and still has room for things like inhalers, EpiPens, bandages, or allergy meds, depending on the mom in question.”
“Impressive.Sounds like you’re ready for a mission, carrying a bag like that.”
“Always.”She eyes the woman’s purse.“Though for the record, I could totally go for a little Chanel purse like that on occasion.I might feel less like a pack mule.”
I’m about to inform her that nothing about her resembles a pack mule when she narrows her eyes on another person at the bar and asks me, “And what do your intelligence skills tell you about that guy over there?Any baggage you detect for him?”
I glance in the direction of the guy she’s eyeing.“The worst kind.He’s married.”
She winces.“Wow, that says a lot about your attitude toward marriage.”
“No, no.Marriage is fine.But that guy’s not wearing his ring.Took it off tonight.See the way his thumb keeps moving to his fourth finger?It’s like it’s looking for something.Totally married.I’m betting he lives in DC where he’s stashed his wife and kids, and came out here where no one would recognize him.”
“Why from DC?”
“That suit.He’s way too dressed up for Annapolis.”
“True enough.Should we warn any women he talks to?”she asks, seeming to enjoy this game we’re playing.
I shake my head.“He won’t get lucky tonight.So don’t worry about it.”
“Why won’t he get lucky?”
I grin.“Look who just walked in.”
She turns toward the door to see, and as she does, a lock of her hair falls from her ponytail and caresses her cheek.
I totally want to tuck it behind her ear.But seeing as she still seems to be getting used to the idea of being on a date with me, I school my hands to stay put.
“You mean the midshipmen?”she asks, spotting the cluster of fresh-faced Firsties.
“Yup.Firsties.I can tell from the stripes on their uniforms.”I can’t help glancing at the date on my watch.Most mids have left for the holiday break by now.They probably live locally and are wearing their uniforms because it’s the best way to get some female attention in this town.
“Firsties?”
“It’s the nickname for mids in their senior year.Right now, any single women are going to be focused on those guys, not on our married DC guy.I’ll be lucky ifyoudon’t leave my table to join them.”
She bursts out laughing.“They’re like maybe ten years younger than me.”
“Doesn’t matter.That uniform can bridge the years.”
“You sound like you speak from experience.”
I chuckle.“In the past, I might have taken advantage of the benefits of wearing a uniform as a single guy.But in this last job, I can barely remember how to date either.”
“Youaregone a lot.”
For some reason, I like that she’s noticed.“Always last minute too.There’s no planning anything.And I’m kind of at that age now where I’d love to see a woman for… well… several dates in succession.”Loving the way O’Toole’s ample Christmas lights reflect in her eyes, I give her my most charming smile, the one my sisters tell me I should keep locked up.“So I hope,” I dare to add, “you’ve got more free time on your hands.”
