Paige unlocked the door to her new apartment and stepped inside with a sense of new beginnings. She tugged the smallest of her three suitcases behind her and set it just inside the door, along with her purse. She glanced at her watch to see she had half an hour before Damian was due to arrive.
Since her household effects were arriving tomorrow morning, she had given him her new address. She had debated staying in the hotel one more night but decided it didn’t make sense to have Damian make the long drive to pick her up only to have to get up early tomorrow morning to come back to her apartment. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d crashed on the floor for a night, and she doubted it would be the last.
Returning to her car, she retrieved another suitcase and the large trash bag that contained her pillow and the bedding she had brought with her. After depositing those in the bedroom, she made one more trip for her last suitcase.
An abundance of nervous energy bubbled up inside her as she thought of her date with Damian. She still couldn’t believe she’d confessed her fear of handguns, but she knew from her training that if she felt compelled to talk about it, she must be ready to face the fear. Of course, admitting she didn’t like guns was a long way from talking about what had caused the fear in the first place.
Closing the door behind her, Paige busied herself with airing out her bedding and hanging up clothes. With each outfit she hung up, she wondered if she should change. Damian had said to dress casually, and she had taken him at his word, choosing a pair of jeans and a long sweater, but she caught a glimpse of her favorite scarf in a suitcase and dug it out, pleased to see it wasn’t too wrinkled.
She draped it around her neck and debated changing her shoes when the doorbell rang. Her stomach jumped, and her eyes narrowed. Why was she having this kind of reaction to going out with someone she’d only met twice? Sure, he seemed like a nice guy, and he was good looking, but she also knew he might very well be taking her out just to prove himself to his buddies.
She forced herself to take her time in walking to the door, slipping her coat on as she did so. Out of habit, she looked through the window to make sure she knew who it was before she opened it.
“Hey, there. Are you ready?” Damian asked. He too was dressed in jeans and wore a leather jacket that hung open over a gray button-up.
“I think so.” She picked up her purse and joined him on the front walk. “Where are we going?”
“It depends. Do you like seafood?”
“I love seafood.”
“In that case, Seth suggested a restaurant not too far from here.” He guided her to the small pickup truck parked next to her car. “I thought we could have some dinner and then go for a drive and check out the area a bit.”
“That sounds good.” She slid into the passenger’s seat to find that even though the upholstery was worn, the interior of the truck was clean. Paige suspected Damian had stopped by the car wash on his way to get her, and she was flattered at the thought.
As soon as he took his seat and started the car, she asked, “How long have you been in the navy?”
“Almost a year.”
“That’s all?” When he nodded, she asked, “What did you do before you joined?”
“I worked in the oil industry for a few years with my father and younger brother. Then I spent a year in banking.”
“Do you like the navy better than those jobs?”
“I do. I wasn’t interested in living on oil rigs, and I definitely didn’t want to spend my life sitting behind a desk. The navy has been a good challenge, even if I do have to carry a gun.”
“Why do you have to carry a weapon?” Paige asked, hoping her voice sounded casual. “I thought most people in the military were only armed when they went into battle.”
“It’s actually not mandatory for most people, but someone up the chain of command decided they wanted us to stay armed. I guess there have been a few situations in the past when that decision has come in handy.”
“What exactly do you do for the navy?”
Damian glanced sideways at her. “You don’t know?”
“Should I?”
“I just figured Vanessa would have told you.”
“No, she just mentioned that you were on her husband’s squad.”
Damian seemed to debate how much he could tell her. Sensing his hesitation, Paige asked, “Do you know where I work?”
“Well, yeah. Seth said Vanessa is CIA, so it only makes sense you are too.”
“Which you do realize isn’t exactly something you can share with people, right?” Paige said.
“I kind of figured.”
“If I can trust you to keep where I work a secret, don’t you think you can trust me with where you work?”
“I guess so.” Damian fell silent until he pulled up to a stoplight. Then he turned to face her before answering. “I’m a Navy SEAL.”
Paige had expected him to say he was in intelligence or maybe research. She even thought he might be in the military police, but a SEAL? That thought hadn’t ever crossed her mind.
When she didn’t respond, Damian said, “You aren’t going to tell me you don’t date SEALs, are you?”
“I’ve honestly never thought about it before. You’re the first SEAL I’ve ever known.”
“Except for my squad.”
“I suppose that’s true.” Paige thought about her time at Vanessa’s a few nights before and the afternoon when she’d first met Damian and his friends. She hadn’t really thought about what they did specifically, but now curiosity blossomed. “What’s it like being a SEAL?”
“So far, all I’ve done is a lot of training. Some of it’s a bit like what you might expect from what you read about or see in the movies, but a lot of it is just basic physical training and a lot of shooting practice.”
Involuntarily, Paige tensed.
“Any chance you’re going to tell me why you’re afraid of guns?”
“It’s a long story.”
“We’ve got time.”
“It’s not exactly a first-date kind of story.” Paige gave him an apologetic look. “Tell me about you. Where are you from? What’s your family like?”
“I’m originally from Venezuela, but my family moved to Houston when I was thirteen. I think I mentioned my dad and younger brother work on oil rigs. My older brother is living in Germany right now. He’s in international banking.”
“Forgive me, but you don’t look like you’re from Latin America. I always think of people from there as having dark hair and dark complexions.”
“My great grandparents were from Germany. They moved to Maracaibo shortly before World War II and never left.”
“Do you speak German?”
“I do. A lot of my dad’s side of the family went back to Germany when Venezuela’s government started destabilizing, and we used to visit once or twice a year,” he said. “He never had enough money to buy a new truck or the bigger television he had his eye on, but he always managed to find a way to get us plane tickets.”
“Sounds like family was his first priority.”
“Very much so.” Damian glanced over at her. “What about you? What’s your family like?”
“There’s not much to tell. I grew up in a little town in New Hampshire, and I have an older sister.”
“How did you end up working for the CIA?”
“I guess you could say I fell into it.” She was relieved when Damian pulled into the restaurant parking lot. “It looks crowded.”
“I called ahead and made a reservation.” He maneuvered his truck into a spot a couple rows away from the entrance. “If we don’t like the food, we can blame Seth.”
“Are you going to give him the credit if the food is good?”
Damian considered for a moment. “I’ll think about it.”
Paige felt herself relax, relieved to be on safer subjects. They walked into the restaurant, and her mood improved further. The tables were covered with newspaper rather than tablecloths, and the scent of crab and hush puppies permeated the air.
The waiters wore jeans and T-shirts with the restaurant logo emblazoned across the front, and the menus were vinyl covered. In the corner, a live band that sounded suspiciously like Rascal Flatts filled the place with noise.
Paige looked over at Damian. “This place is great.”
She saw the worried expression on his face transform into an answering smile. There was no doubt about it. This place was only one step up from a dive, but if the food tasted nearly as good as it smelled, they were in for a meal worthy of a five-star restaurant.