Like I knew the answer to this fucking question.
“I don’t know. I did everything I normally do, and I even ate that gross salad. Thanks for the olive-free bruschetta, though. I don’t think I would’ve kept that down.”
Cope didn’t look away from the screens. “I spent hours of research on making last night an easy in for you. Something you did wrong kept her from letting you in. We won’t get our info if you don’t fucking get into her bed.” His voice rose to a loud roar at the end, and I had to admit I hated when he did that. I was always waiting for him to pull out his gun and say “Fuck it” then nail me between the eyes or some crazy shit like that.
“I’m going to work on her today. I think she was overwhelmed by the date of a lifetime last night and didn’t know what to do or think.”
“The kiss. Did she draw close to you?”
No, not exactly. It had almost felt as if she wasn’t there at all. She’d been distant. “Yeah, sure. Like always.”
Cope shot me a pointed glare, not believing me, then went back to watching her. “Get into her bed.”
Yes, sir. Asshole. I hated the motherfucker. I didn’t care that he’d gotten me an olive-free bread thingy. He was still a bastard.
As soon as I left Captain Asshole’s, I texted Nan. I knew she was awake, because we’d watched her wake up right before he ordered me to leave and fix things. I didn’t see her get out of bed, but I did see her open her eyes and stretch. Damn, she was gorgeous. I wondered if her morning breath even smelled good. Probably not. No one had good morning breath.
Good morning. Want to go for a morning run on the beach? I asked. I knew she loved running on the beach. I figured if I suggested her favorite things, she’d want me around more.
Ten minutes later, she finally responded. Sure. I’ll be ready in fifteen.
Score. Fifteen minutes, and I’d have her all to myself again. I needed a plan. For starters, I needed to ease her into talking about her recent past. Like when she was in Paris last July with a man named Franco Livingston. I doubted she had a clue about the man’s past. If she’d known she was dating a child molester and drug trafficker, she’d have been horrified.
Before I dug that deep, I needed to spend a few days with her, soaking up her time as much as possible. Until we casually moved into the conversation about our past relationships maybe. I could ask Cope how to go about it, but I didn’t want any more of his help. I’d get Nan cleared of any connection to Livingston and then move on.
I had left my temporary home this morning ready to run on the beach. This was my plan before I’d gone to sleep last night. I hadn’t gone looking for a woman after leaving Nan, and a part of me thought I deserved a fucking award for that. I went home alone and made notes on the night, then drank some whiskey before sleeping.
This job was not going to end my career before it even started. Captain had done it for years and had been damn good at it. I was just as badass as he was. I could do this shit. I would do it. I had notes! Lots of fucking notes!
Nan
The dream was haunting me. I couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t focus on anything Major was saying. I had even checked my panties this morning to see if they were still on. It had felt so real. The disappointment when I’d touched them made my heart sink. Of course, I’d still been in that half-asleep, half-awake phase when the idea of a man I hardly knew coming into my room at night while I slept and giving me the best oral sex I’d ever had sounded like a solid idea. Not scary at all.
Yeah.
It was a fantasy. The kind that messed with your head and your reality, making both suck. Because right now, if Major chatted about one more pointless thing, I was going to toss the chicken salad sandwich I was eating right at him.
I had suggested going to the club for lunch, because I knew three of the waitresses he had fucked here. I requested to be seated in one of their areas just to watch him squirm, to see if he ended up taking an extended “restroom break,” which he was quickly becoming known for all over town.
He wasn’t squirming or making eye contact with our waitress. And she was clearly annoyed. Probably hurt. Well, I didn’t know what to do with that. Because if I hadn’t gone to Vegas and hadn’t experienced Gannon, I’d be smiling smugly at her right now like I had won. But won what? Major? I didn’t want him.
Even with all that sweet stuff he had done, one dream about Gannon, and I remembered what Major was lacking. And that list was seriously long. Maybe the pretty boy was what most girls wanted, but until they had been with a man whose sole goal in life was not to talk about himself, then they didn’t know what they were missing.