I kept staring at the last place I saw her, as if she might reappear and laugh like she was playing a prank, but the elevator chimed, and I was sure she was on her way downstairs. I shook my head. She looked like a beauty queen without twenty layers of makeup, complete with a world peace–creating smile and stage-worthy saunter. I’d come across beautiful women before—even dated a few—but I didn’t expect to see a woman like her working in a place like this. She should be married to George Clooney and fighting for human rights, running her own charity for clean water, and basically saving the world, not in a shithole hotel in Colorado Springs.
I closed the door, suddenly embarrassed over spending so much time staring down the hall.
My cell phone rang, and I put down the towels in the bathroom, jogging over to my nightstand. I tugged on the charger and toppled over, back-first onto the mattress. “Hey, Val.”
“It’s been months. You couldn’t call?” Val asked. Her voice was comforting, even knowing she was hundreds of miles away. She’d always had my back, had tried for years to be my voice of reason every time I’d wanted to walk out while giving my boss the finger.
“I’ve been overseas, trying to stay busy,” I said, picking at the lace of my boot. “Guess who I just had lunch with today?”
“Your dad?”
“Very funny. Taylor Maddox.”
“Bullshit.”
“Why would I lie?”
“How did that happen?”
I chuckled, surprised myself. “They’re on the fire near here. I’m staying in the same hotel. I thought he was going to attack me when I first saw him, then he asked me to lunch.”
She sighed. “Those Maddox boys. So…how was lunch?”
“Good. I think Taylor’s in love with the waitress. He just met her today, by the way. We forgot to tip her and he was freaking out about it. He’s taking money to her tonight.”
“Aw, that’s kind of sweet.”
“Yeah, if she didn’t hate him.”
“So, you like it there, huh? In Colorado?”
“I think I do,” I said.
“Well…I guess that’s it, then.”
“I’ll miss you, Val. I really will. Take care.”
“You, too. But…Scottie? Don’t be a stranger. And if you need anything, just call.”
“Thanks, Val.”
Pressing End wasn’t the closure I’d hoped for. Val wanted me to say more, but there wasn’t more to say. One kiss one drunken night at the local pub wasn’t enough to make me want to stay. She would likely be over it this time next month.
My phone made a muted thud when I tossed it to the mattress. I mulled over the next day, excited about seeing my old buddies again, nervous about doing the job to the satisfaction of General Tallis. He was known for being a hard-ass.
The rest of my team would be waiting on me at six a.m. sharp at the Cheyenne Mountain Complex. Some of us hadn’t seen one another in years. The Complex was at least a half hour away, and I had to get my credentials first. I lifted my arm to see the red digital numbers of my watch. Just a few minutes after seven. I had just enough time to grab dinner and a shower before attempting eight full hours of sleep. My first day at the Complex would be at least twelve hours long.
I pushed myself up, my muscles aching from my workout at Iron Mountain Gym, where I’d bought a membership the week before. After lunch, I’d lifted until my arms would barely work to drive back to the hotel. Earbuds in, exhausting every muscle, I had made my thoughts go numb; my one safe space away from the worry, guilt, and anxiety that flooded my daily thoughts. Especially after quitting my job and moving, I had a lot of ground to cover. Soldiers were damaged goods, and we all had to find a way to live with the nightmares that played in our minds whether we were awake or asleep.
Once again, I was in the elevator. I should find a place of my own soon. Up and down in that box was going to get old fast, and it reminded me too much of the Bureau.
A chime sounded before the doors opened and I stepped out into the hall. The lobby hadn’t cleared much. Instead of standing in line to check in, the hotshots were standing around with clear plastic cups full of beer. Part of me hoped I’d run into the housekeeping chick again, but she was standing behind the check-in desk this time. Hotshot firefighters, interagency brass, and higher-ups from the Forestry Department surrounded the front desk. Tilde was checking them in, one room at a time, and training Darby while she did it. Darby didn’t seem flustered, though, her eyes taking in everything, all with a smile on her face.
One hotshot had his elbows leaned on the counter, a goofy smile on his face while he spoke to Darby. She was clearly uninterested, concentrating on her training. Something stirred in my chest, watching her ignore the guy two feet away trying to woo her. He wasn’t bad looking, and most girls fell for the firefighter shtick. Darby couldn’t have been less interested. I wondered why as I approached the front desk and heard the poor bastard practically crooning at her.
“Tilde,” I said, cutting in front of the waiting hotshots. Be smart, Trex. “Where’s a good place to eat around here?”
“There’s a Mexican restaurant down the road,” Darby said. “Their queso is fantastic. That’s all I know, though.”
“Walking distance?” I asked.
“Goodness, no,” Tilde said. “It’s at least four miles.”
“I walked here from there.” Darby shrugged, a grin on her face.
I smiled back at her. A small gesture, but a smile was more than the hotshot flirting with her had gotten. Something about drawing her attention made me crave it more. Just before I asked what time she got off work, Tilde handed me a tri-folded menu.
“Jimmy’s. Tastes like home-cooked meals. Across the street and down. Can’t miss it.”
Darby leaned over, trying to read the menu. When she saw me watching her, she stood upright, looking caught. “Sorry,” she said.
“Hungry?” I asked.
Darby shook her head quickly.
Tilde watched her for a moment, then frowned. “You just had queso for lunch? We’re going to be here until eleven. You’ll be starving.”
“I had salsa, too. I’m fine,” Darby said, trying to focus her attention on the next hotshot checking in.
Her accent was fucking adorable. “They’ll probably close before your shift’s over. I could bring you both back something.”
“You are just the sweetest,” Tilde said. “Let me get you some money, honey.”
“Get it later,” I said, reaching over the counter for a pen. “What would you hardworking ladies like?” I’d wanted to write down their orders, but Darby took a step back as if I were grabbing for her. I moved more slowly, as if I were in the presence of a wild animal. Darby’s ivory cheeks flushed when she saw what I was reaching for. I held the pen over the paper, waiting for her answer.
Darby scanned a key card, keeping her head down. She was so confident before, but now she acted like a kicked dog. “I’m good,” she said.
I jotted down my number, handing the paper to Tilde. “You’ll be starving by the time you get off work. I really don’t mind. Just text me what you want.”
I began to walk away, but Darby tugged on my shirt. “Trex! I…” She tucked loose strands of honey-blond behind her ear. “I don’t get paid for two weeks. I can’t pay you back today.”
“So, pay me back when you can. It’s just food.”
Her full lips pressed together in a hard line. She was barely wearing any makeup, clothes too big even for her Southern-belle curves, and yet she was stunning. I looked down. She was still hanging on to my shirt.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, crossing her arms across her waist. She peered around, waiting for someone to tell her she’d done something wrong.
“It’s okay, Darby. Just relax.” Her shoulders lowered from her earlobes to a normal position. This girl was wound tighter than the girdle of a Baptist minister’s wife at an all-you-can-eat pancake breakfast. “It’s all right.”
She nodded.
“You going to text me?” I asked.
“I don’t have a cell phone.”
“Just have Tilde text me, then. If you get busy, don’t worry about it. I’ll just pick something for you.”
I turned, feeling her watch me walk through the automatic doors. Even with the summer sun hovering over the horizon and veiled by the smoke from what the news channels called a thousand-acre fire, its hot breath blew in my face. I took in my surroundings, seeing the neon sign that read JIMMY’S exactly where Tilde said it would be.
My entire walk was spent thinking about the blonde behind the counter, matching her voice with the one that had been ingrained in my brain, even when I was awake. She had an unapologetic shape I didn’t see on many women in California. I could curve my fingers around Darby’s waist, but half the buttons on her Oxford shirt were working overtime to contain her double D cups, and her hips didn’t look like a Ken doll, instead rolling out gentle into thighs I could hold on to. I tried to shake the image of me running my hands over her curves, feeling my dick press against the back of my pants even as I dodged traffic while crossing the highway to Jimmy’s.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out someone had hurt her in more ways than one. That thought alone made any sexual thoughts melt away with a wave of guilt. Hailey was a stunner, too, and I’d threatened more than one guy who ogled her and had lewd thoughts before even speaking to her. Darby seemed sweet and didn’t need some douchebag fantasizing about her.
“Welcome,” the host said when I pushed through the glass door. He peered behind me. “How many?”
“Just one,” I said, following him to a booth. Jimmy’s was too bright for that time of night, and it reminded me more of a truck stop café than the grandma’s-kitchen feel I’d imagined, but the food smelled amazing. “I’m going to need the server over quick. I’m bringing back food to some friends.”
“I’ll let Ginny know,” he said, handing me a menu.
Ginny arrived just a few minutes later. At least they had good service. “I hear you’re in a hurry,” she said with a smile.
I glanced at the menu one last time. “I’ll have a water, a number six, and two number twos to go, please.”
The waitress giggled. “That was easy.”
I nodded, handed her the menu, and she pranced to the kitchen. I sat back, interlacing my fingers and resting them on top of my hair. I’d just cut it again, but unless my head was freshly shaved, the guys were going to give me shit in the morning. In the Marines, I hadn’t kept more than an inch of hair on my head or a few days of scruff on my face. Working for Deep Six Security, I’d grown a long, scraggly beard. A buzz cut and lumberjack beard weren’t standard in the FBI, and with a boss who raged over the smallest things, it was better to blend in.
The restaurant wasn’t close to capacity, just a few families, a booth occupied by two women celebrating a night away from their families, and a few guys at the bar pretending they were more invested in the game on the flat-screen than in locating a single woman. Being alone was something I’d had to adjust to after being on a team for most of my adult life. Sitting in a booth across from no one was an adjustment, too, but it was better to have no one in front of me than someone who wasn’t her.
The women in the booth across from mine stole a few glances in my direction. They giggled and took another sip of their truck stop wine, their wedding bands glinting off the fluorescent lighting. I wasn’t sure why married women were so attracted to me. Even my ex didn’t show as much interest until after she married my best friend. Maybe I seemed like the guy who’d be a good time, and easy to walk away from. I frowned, not sure how I felt about that. My career had left me never married and childless at thirty-five. Now I’m here, and she’s right across the street, and I have to act like I haven’t been looking for her my entire adult life.
In just ten minutes, I had paid for the plastic bag in my hand full of boxed meals and was out the door. The highway would have been easier to cross if I’d walked a quarter mile down the road, but I took the direct route instead, dodging cars and semitrucks barreling along the road at sixty-five miles per hour plus. Being in the middle of a busy highway felt strangely comforting. Focusing on surviving instead of the memories in my head was the reason why I missed being an active Marine every second of the day.
As soon as the automatic doors opened, dozens of heads glanced in my direction, but no one really paid attention to me until I gave the bag in my hand to Darby. The men in the lobby seemed overly interested in everything she did, and it bugged me.
I took my boxed food off the top. Tilde smiled. Darby hesitated.
“They’re both the same. Meatloaf and mashed potatoes and gravy. I hope that’s okay. I didn’t get a text.”
“Sorry about that, we had a short rush of check-ins. The meatloaf is perfect. Best thing on the menu!” Tilde said, grabbing for the next box. She handed it to Darby and then took one for herself. She sniffed the steam wafting from the food once she opened the lid. “Oh my. I’m salivating.” She opened the plasticware and dug in, closing her eyes.
“Did I mess up? You don’t like meatloaf?” I asked.
“I do,” Darby said, staring at the unopened box. “It’s my favorite, actually. Thank you.”
I was glad there was no longer a line to check in so I had more time to talk to her. “You don’t owe me anything, Darby. It’s just food.”
“I appreciate it,” she said, her gaze fixed on the Styrofoam lid.
I leaned in, and she moved back, embarrassed again by her instinct. I wanted to beat the ass of whoever ingrained that in her. She hated it, I could tell.
“I won’t ever talk to you again if you don’t want me to,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t take me up on the offer. “I just didn’t want you to be hungry. It’s not a ploy to obligate you to me in any way.”
Tilde stopped eating to watch for Darby’s reaction. Darby still didn’t make eye contact with anything but the food box. I flicked open the lid, and slowly placed a package of plasticware beside it before walking away.
“Thank you.” Darby’s voice was barely audible over the noise in the lobby, but I heard it, and I smiled.