Under Fire (Love Over Duty #1)(26)
When she was finally satisfied that she was alone in her home and that only the wooden sculpture was out of place, she padded into the cobalt blue kitchen, the terra-cotta tile cool on her feet, and pulled open the fridge. A half-full bottle of Pinot Grigio would help scare away the jitters. The only explanation for the sculpture was that she'd knocked it somehow. She grabbed a white wine glass from one of the open shelves that ran along the wall and poured herself a generous measure. There was no point in dwelling in anxiety. Instead, she ran through the things she could do to take her mind off it. Catch up on sleep, read medical journals, jump into her pool.
She rustled up some sweet potato and black bean enchiladas and sipped on her wine while they were baking in the oven. Nothing comforted her quite like home cooking. Thirty minutes later, she'd changed into shorts and a tank, put her hair up, poured another glass of wine, and was seated in front of the television watching the 1957 classic Night of the Demon by Jacques Tourneur.
It was dark outside by the time the movie had finished and she took her plate down to the kitchen. Usually the dark wasn't an issue. Normally she'd take her glass of wine out onto the wooden deck and watch the stars for hours on end. But tonight felt different. Tonight it felt edgy. The safety she usually felt inside her home was missing. Desperate to make it feel normal, she followed her usual routine. She set some popcorn to pop while she rinsed her dishes and filled up her wine glass. As she was pouring the finished popcorn into a blue glass bowl and was just about to head back to her TV, she heard a car door slam and jumped. But then she remembered Six's text. It had to be him. A giddiness she hadn't felt since high school trickled through her. She stood on her toes and leaned over the sink to look out at the driveway, but the automatic lights weren't on, and there was no sign of his truck.
Louisa shook her head and laughed. Too much drama at work, too much alcohol, and watching a horror movie were spooking her unnecessarily. Maybe she should watch one of her favorite nonhorror films, like Chocolat or Shakespeare in Love or something.
Anything to chase away the panic.
* * *
Six hummed along to Nina singing about being misunderstood. All the important mile markers in his life were tagged with one of her songs. "Ain't Got No, I Got Life" had blasted from the speakers as he'd been separated from Mac and Cabe when he'd been transferred from their West Coast unit to the East Coast. "I Think It's Going to Rain Today" had played as he'd gotten dressed for Brock's funeral. He'd even lost his virginity to Jessica McKade in the back of his dad's truck to "Do I Move You?" The whole thing had been over before the end of the three-minute song. He grinned at the memory. His skills had certainly improved since then.
When others had reached for the roughest and toughest rock music to get them in the mood for war, he'd reached for "Sinnerman." And while he'd never publicly confess it, "Here Comes the Sun" had seen him through his spell in military hospital. There was a simple pleasure in listening to her on American soil for once with the windows of his truck down, even though the hour was late.
Getting a business off the ground was a whole different ball of wax from what he was expecting. He felt kinda shitty about all the work Mac and Cabe had already done in the months they'd been out. Now it was all guns blazing as they battled to build their business. Over breakfast, he'd prepared a proposal for a contract supporting an aid convoy through Colombia. On the way into work, he'd participated in a conference call with an old CIA friend of theirs about potential coverage for an off-the-grid group in Syria. Lunch had included a meeting with a potential candidate for an office manager. In between, he'd written modules for their security-guard-training business, put an hour in at the gun range, and finished painting the medical room. Their to-do list was never-ending, and for a moment, he yearned for the days when he was just given orders to follow. His body ached in a good way, ready for a soak in a hot bath with a cold beer.
When they'd started Eagle Securities, he'd imagined being on constant missions somewhere doing something adrenaline-filled all on their own dime and with their own rules, but for now, the days blended into a never-ending pile of paperwork. The calendar on the wall was beginning to fill up with work, though, and come October, they'd be busy. Probably busier than they could handle, but they would embrace it.
Despite the pile of work on his desk, Louisa was on his mind. After she'd left, he'd studied his neatly organized bookshelves and wondered if she'd even realized what she'd done. She'd barely looked at the books as she'd put them back in place, but he noticed she'd sorted them by type before alphabetizing them. Which meant she'd either read every book in his collection, which he found highly unlikely, or she'd read the backs in a millisecond to categorize them, which was equally crazy unless she was an epic speed reader.