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“Si, yo hablo español.”
I sigh dramatically as he chuckles. “Guess that means I can’t cuss you out in Spanish then.”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t try.”
As we leave the restaurant and head toward his truck, Trevor takes my hand again. “Want to go on a hike with me next weekend? First Landing State Park has some nice trails and maybe we can check it out. There’s even one that goes over a swamp.”
“I’d love to,” I reply as he pulls open the door for me and I get in. I hate that I don’t even hesitate to give him my answer but there’s no point in playing hard to get. Trevor Hawthorne has me—hook, line, and sinker.
I just wish he’d kiss me already.
Chapter Five
Trevor
I hate ending the date early but when I’m needed at the office, everything else takes a backseat especially when it involves the lives of men I know. Ryan and I have been working on the same mission that had me spending five weeks out in the desert. When I got back three weeks ago, he took my place, embedded with the same unit Quinn and I worked with.
Mark is in the office when I arrive. Stocky with thick blond hair styled close to his scalp, he gets up from his chair the moment I step through the door. Even on weekends, there are people working in the office, their attention glued to computer screens and their headsets.
“We received the intel less than an hour ago, but I need you to confirm the information with what you collected yesterday,” he says. “See if they’re related.”
“No problem at all.” I power up my desktop, knowing whatever it is I need to see is going to be there with a click of a mouse. Too bad it’s a job that can’t be accessed from home. I either need to be at one of Cole Security’s main offices or when I’m out in the field, right at the source, be it Afghanistan, Iraq, Saudi Arabia, or wherever my expertise is needed.
“Ryan’s team is close to getting the intel we’ve been looking for and I need you to be on top of it. We can’t afford to let our target slip through our fingers again,” Mark says.
“I’m on it.”
“You’re not slated to go back but if anything happens, be ready to go anytime,” he says as I slip on the headset and press a button on my laptop.
“Understood. I’ll holler if I have any questions,” I say as Mark disappears into his office.
Alone at my desk, I force myself to focus on the job at hand. I need to hear the words, understand the context of whatever intel we received. It means I’m going to be here for a while, maybe for the rest of the evening to parse through every bit of information collected while still fresh. We’re close to nabbing this bad guy and if Ryan’s got new intel for me to cross-check, then I don’t care if it means I forego a few hours of sleep.
At least, I already bid Claudia good night. If I don’t text her during the week to see how she’s doing, I’ll see her next weekend.
At the thought of our upcoming date, I frown. This isn’t my usual M.O. I’m usually straight to the point. If I like a woman, I let her know. The version of Trevor before the accident would have taken her to bed by now, yet here we are having finished our second date and still, no kiss.
But then, I haven’t been with anyone since the accident. I could easily have jumped into the dating pool—God knows I’ve had every opportunity—but it wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be, certainly not with my mindset.
I’ve been through worse things, but the Humvee accident was something else. We weren’t in the middle of a firefight. We didn’t drive over an IED. No, this one was an honest-to-God accident, one that took King’s life and injured me, Quinn, and Bennett. And the journey back to normalcy—or as close to normalcy as I could muster—took all of my focus and attention.
Still, it shouldn’t be a big deal especially after all the months of rehab and counseling.
But it is.
* * *
The following weekend, Claudia and I begin our day with a stop at a local coffee shop where I ask her about her family. She tells me about how her family includes not just her widowed mother but her mother’s siblings and their kids, making for a large extended family.
“We can fill out a convention hall, easy,” she says, laughing. “During Christmas, we’d go to one aunt’s house and eat her tamales and biscochitos, and the next day, we’d go to my uncle’s house and have empanadas and red chile.”
“What are biscochitos?”
“They’re holiday shortbread cookies that are pretty much a New Mexican tradition,” she replies. “Usually shaped like stars and rolled in sugar.”
“Sounds delicious.”
“They are. Leigh loves them so much I make sure to bake a batch just for her and mail it,” she says. “What about you? Any favorite holiday traditions?”
