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“Wow,” Sailor says. “You really don’t have one romantic bone in your body, do you?”
“No, I don’t.”
But Fallon merely smirks as she reaches out and straightens my tie. “We’ll see,” she says. “If she’s the right one, you’ll have all the feels.”
“Sparkly butterflies,” Sailor adds and winks at me.
“You better go or you’ll be late.” Fallon shoos me toward the door. “We’re going to want a full sitrep tomorrow so we can tell Eden.”
I merely shake my head, swipe my keys up and head out. Eden Esposito, also known as Loco, is out on maternity leave. She and her husband Colton Law, who also works here, are both ex-CIA and now the proud parents of a baby girl named Violet. We’re all thrilled for them.
The elevator takes me straight down to the garage and I walk over to my midnight blue Jaguar F-Type coupe, unlock it and slide inside. Another extravagance, but well-earned. The ride over to the restaurant doesn’t take more than five minutes. It’s convenient and close and that’s why I chose it. If this date heads south, I can return to the office and work late.
I’m not going to lie, my expectations are low. I mean, I’m sure Cameron Sullivan is a nice woman, absolutely fine, but that doesn’t mean she’s right for me. For whatever reason, I have trouble finding someone who not only piques my interest, but also holds it. I suppose that’s why I can’t remember the last date I went on and why my sex life is more barren than Tatooine. Hell, the remote ice planet of Hoth might be more accurate at this point.
It’s easy for me to ignore it, though, because I lose myself in my work. I don’t think I’ve worked less than 12 hours a day in the past two years. Usually, I average 14 hours, but that’s to be expected when you own your own security firm.
And when you’re running from your demons.
After bypassing the valet, I choose a spot further away from the other cars in the lot and park myself. I tend to do everything myself. I can admit that I might be a bit of a control freak, but people depend on me and I need to know everything is being handled. Letting the people I care about down isn’t an option. The protector in me won’t allow it, and if that means working overtime and doing everything myself then that’s what I’ll do.
I turn off the car and sit there for a moment. I never would’ve admitted this to the girls, but I’m nervous. Dating is one of the worst tortures ever invented by man, and I should know—I spent 24 hours being tortured by the Pakistani Taliban in Syria after a mission went sideways. It was hardcore. I don’t often let myself go there, but some nights, the knife scars on my side still burn and I remember how the water felt going down the back of my throat. How I choked on it. How I couldn’t breathe…
I fucking hate water. To this day, I avoid it at all costs.
“Fuck,” I whisper, shaking my head to clear the memories. Guess it’s time to bite the bullet and get this over with. Time to meet Ms. Cameron Sullivan.
???
Twenty-five minutes into the date, all I want to do is go back to the office, finish some work and then catch up on the latest Star Wars series on Disney+. The food is taking forever and I knew within the first few minutes that Cameron wasn’t the one for me.
To be honest, I don’t think she’s feeling it either. But that could be partially my fault. I have this way of turning distant when I’m not interested.Jesus, Slater,I scold myself.You’re going to wind up a grouchy old man, all alone, yelling at kids to stay off your lawn. Give the woman a chance.
“So, uh, you mentioned you own a company,” I say, trying to salvage the date. What the hell. I owe it to myself to at least try, right? The least I can do is make the rest of dinner pleasant and not awkward.
“Yes, I design and sell socks,” Cameron says proudly and takes a sip of her wine.
“Socks?” I echo.
“It’s a huge business, lots of repeat customers. I do all kinds of fun socks for the holidays and, well, pretty much anything you can think of. Name something. I bet I’ve put it on a pair of socks.”
“Um. Star Wars?”
“Well, that’s all copyrighted, so I can’t use their stuff. Unless I want to get sued by them, which, of course, I don’t.”
I nod, not knowing what else to say, as the waiter finally appears with our dinner.Thank Christ.Any other guy would be sitting here plotting how to get through dinner and get laid. Me? I’m thinking about scarfing down my food as quickly as possible so I can go back to the office to finish some emails and paperwork with Disney+ playing in the background to keep me company.
Yeah, there’s definitely something wrong with me.
As I cut my roasted chicken with asiago polenta and truffled mushrooms, I glance over at Cameron. She’s pretty, friendly, and I like the reddish highlights in her brown hair. So what the hell is my problem?
The problem is I’m not interested in pursuing anything with her.
“So what do you do exactly?” she asks me. “Your bio said you own a security company? What’s that mean exactly?”
“My company specializes in protection. Security, defense and surveillance mostly.”
Her eyes widen. “That sounds dangerous.”
