I frowned, just as Alyssa whispered the word “boring” in my ear.
“You know what?” I was still reeling from that jerk’s email and now being called “predictable” by Drew. “I’d like to change my order. I’ll have the…the—” I glanced up at the menu above the cash register and settled on the first thing I saw “—the PLT.”
“One PLT coming right up.” Drew smirked.
“Ooh,” Alyssa teased. “You’re really living on the edge now.”
“That’s right,” I said, signing the tablet and giving my name an angry flourish. “Watch out world, Olivia Hayes is on a roll.”
She bumped my hip with hers. “You know I’m just teasing you.” She turned to Drew with a smile. “I’ll take the Southpaw, thanks.”
“Sure thing,” he said.
We thanked him and accepted the cups for our drinks before heading over to a table.
“He likes you, you know,” Alyssa said.
“Who?” I asked, glancing around.
“Drew.”
I frowned and glanced over at him before returning my attention to Alyssa. “Drew, as in hold-the-aioli Drew?”
“Yes.” She laughed with a roll of her eyes. “God, you are so clueless sometimes.”
“I just don’t see it.”
“Don’t see what? The way he lights up when you walk in? Or how he spends extra time talking to you about books? Or the fact that he has your order memorized?”
“He does that with everyone.” I straightened my fork and knife.
She shook her head. “Not with me.”
“Whatever,” I scoffed. “You’re smoking if you think he—or any guy for that matter—would pick me over you. I mean, at least until they hear who my dad is,” I said with a self-deprecating laugh.
Unfortunately, my dad was the reason most guys seemed even remotely interested in me. As a former player for the Hollywood Heatwaves, that alone was enticing enough. But then you added to it the fact that he was a color commentator on one of the local networks, and it was over. I’d gotten so sick of it, I’d started avoiding dating altogether. Hence the lack of experience with men.
“Here you are. One Southpaw.” Drew set a plate before Alyssa, and I was grateful for the interruption. “And one PLT.” He grabbed our number from the table. “Anything else?”
We shook our heads, and I said, “Thank you.”
“Of course.” He grinned. “Enjoy your meal. And I hope you don’t mind, Olivia, but I added one of our new chocolate cherry chunk cookies. They’re nut free, and I thought you might enjoy it.”
“Thanks, Drew.” I smiled up at him, but I began to wonder if Alyssa was right and I’d been missing something.
“You look really nice today,” he said, his eyes lingering on my legs.
If there’d been any doubt in my mind, that last comment dispelled it. I dipped my head, grateful to hide behind my curtain of hair. Another diner called out for him, and then he was gone.
“Are you as allergic to compliments as you are to nuts?” Even though she was teasing, I could hear the disappointment in Alyssa’s tone, and it pained me. Alyssa and I had been best friends since college. She knew me better than anyone.
“No,” I answered a little too quickly, and I didn’t like the defensive tone to my voice. “I just figure the person giving them usually has an ulterior motive.”
“Like wanting to get in your pants,” she teased, popping a chip in her mouth.
“More like football tickets or an autographed jersey or…”
She placed her hand over mine. “I know you’ve dated some jerks in the past, but not all guys are like that.”
I nodded but continued to avoid her gaze, sliding my hand out from under hers so I could lift the sourdough bread to peek at my sandwich filling. Looked pretty good, even if it wasn’t my usual. I removed the sliced tomato and carefully set it aside, not entirely sure how to respond.
But she wasn’t finished. “I just—” She blew out a breath. “I wish you’d see how incredible you are. I wish you’d speak up for yourself. I mean, I had to practically beg you to pitch the Spines for Soldiers program to Seth.”
“And look how well that turned out…” I took a large bite of my sandwich.
The flavors burst on my tongue, toasted sourdough, crispy prosciutto, the crunch of the lettuce, and a zesty freshness from the homemade nut-free pesto. I closed my eyes briefly and relished the combination, wondering why I’d always stuck to that one sandwich. Because it was easy? Or was it because I was boring?
“It turned out amazing. Seth approved it, and soldiers all over the world are feeling a sense of connection with books and people.”
“He only approved it because he’s hoping I’ll talk to my dad about the bio.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “He approved it because it’s an awesome idea. I mean, my chick is a badass, and she’s totally loving the romance novels I sent her.”
I continued chewing and swallowed before speaking. “I can think of one person who certainly isn’t.” I purposely ignored her comment about Seth.
“Connor.”
I nodded.
“So, are you ever going to tell me what his email said?”
I shook my head, mortified by the mere idea of repeating it aloud. Instead, I unlocked my phone and placed it on the small table between us. We both set down our sandwiches and leaned in to read from the small screen.
Dear Miss Goody-Two-Shoes,
I do hope it’s okay that I addressed you by that moniker, seeing as it’s fitting.
At this point, Alyssa started to laugh, though she quickly covered it by coughing into her hand. I glared at her, but she kept her eyes fixated on the screen. I returned my attention there.
A little bit about me—fun facts, as you’d say.
Reading novels is a waste of time.
I’m sure you and your cat are very happy together and will be for many years to come. Happy and alone.
The only thing I like eating more than homemade cookies is pussy.
Sincerely,
Connor
“Oh my.” She slid the phone back to me. “Kind of a jerk, but I bet he’s wicked good at dirty talk.”
“Seriously?” I stared at her. That’s what she’d taken away from the email? “He’s such an asshole. Gah!” I banged my fist on the table, which made the silverware clatter. “Can you believe the things he said to me?” I could feel myself getting hotter the more I thought about it, especially when several people nearby turned to see what the commotion was. “The audacity.”
She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched me with a bemused expression.
“What?” I stopped mid-rant. “What is that look for?”
“It’s just nice to see you so fired up—so passionate,” she said in a suggestive tone I didn’t appreciate. “About something.”
“Well, he’s making a mockery of the program I busted my butt on,” I huffed.
“So, tell him.” She popped a chip in her mouth, and it crunched loudly when she chewed.
I jerked my head back. “What?”
“Yeah.” She leaned in, resting her elbows on the table. “Let him have it.”
“I can’t—I couldn’t…” The idea made my pulse race.
“Why not? It’s not like you have to send it. Just type out what you want to say. What you wish you could say but are too chicken.”
Her idea did have merit. And I needed a way to let off some steam. So, I wiped my hands on my napkin and picked up my phone.
“Dear Asshole,” I read aloud as I typed, anger infusing every stroke of the keys.
I would apologize for the profanity, but it seems deserved.
A few fun facts.
I pity you. Reading is one of the best escapes, one of the best ways to gain understanding about other people or places. You’re missing out.
You know nothing about me, and you know what they say about making assumptions…
&n
bsp; Can’t say I’ve tried it—pussy. But hey, you are what you eat, right?
Sincerely,
Olivia
Alyssa laughed at my line about the pussy, though my cheeks flamed with heat when I said the word aloud.
I typed out my name and sat back with a satisfied sigh. “There.”
But when I heard a telltale whoosh of an email sending a second later, I bolted upright. “No! No. No. No.” I furiously tapped at the screen, trying to unsend the email, to take back the words I’d said. But it was too late.
The phone fell from my hands, and I hung my head. “This is bad. So, so bad.”
When I peeked up at Alyssa from beneath my chestnut hair, she didn’t look nearly as frazzled as I felt. In fact, if I wasn’t mistaken, she looked rather amused. “It’ll be okay.”
“No.” I navigated to the internet browser, searching for ways to unsend my email to no avail. I finally gave up and tossed my phone into my purse with a huff.
“It was totally unprofessional. I could get—” I gasped, the realization dawning on me. “I could get fired.”
“You’re not going to get fired, Olivia. Connor doesn’t know you work for Igloo Books. For all he knows, you’re just another random volunteer.”
“Yeah, but…” I covered my face with my hands and shook my head. “I was so incredibly rude.”
“Like he wasn’t?”
“And that’s supposed to justify my response?” I stood, dumping the rest of my sandwich in the trash. I didn’t care how amazing it was, I’d lost my appetite. “I never should have listened to you. ‘Just type out the email,’” I said in a poor attempt to mimic her sultry voice. “Just imagine what you’d say if you could.”
She wrapped up her sandwich and followed me to the door. “So you showed him you have a backbone, that you’re not going to take his shit. Good for you.”
“No.” I shook my head. “This is so not good for me. I’m supposed to be showing how well this program can work, not undermining it by insulting my fellow participants.”
She threw her hands in the air, as I were the one exasperating her, not the other way around. “Tell him you sent it by mistake. Or—” She held up a finger. “That it was intended for someone else.”
I laughed. “Someone else? I think it’s pretty obvious he was the intended recipient.” I stopped midstride on the sidewalk. “Maybe my dad knows someone who can take it back. He’s got to have some tech guru who can erase it.”
“Olivia.” She grasped my shoulders, forcing me to look at her. “Take a deep breath.”
I did as she said, though my heart was still racing. I couldn’t believe I’d typed those words, let alone sent them.
“Your email wasn’t that bad in the grand scheme of things.” Her calm tone was at direct odds with the churning of my stomach.
“Not that bad?” My eyes bulged. “I called him an asshole and insinuated that he was a pussy.”
She scrunched up her nose. “Okay, well, it wasn’t great. But it could be worse.”
I shook out of her hold, digging around in my purse for my phone. “If I can’t take it back, I should at least apologize.”
“Nope.” She grabbed it out of my hand. “Nuh-uh. You should never apologize for standing up for yourself.”
I sighed, sensing that I needed to step away from the situation. As much as I hated to admit it, I’d allowed my emotions to get the best of me. And I never let that happen. Not when my parents told me they were getting divorced, not even when rumors circulated in high school that my mom was sleeping with one of the teachers.
Whatever happened, I rarely allowed myself to show any outward emotion. I rarely let anything get to me. But this man—this asshole, Connor—had gotten under my skin. One email exchange with a man I didn’t know, and I’d completely lost my cool. I didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Chapter Four
Connor
“Is something amusing, Cujo?” Quinn asked from the other side of the conference table.
I hit the power button on my phone and slid it back into my pocket. “No.”
“Good. Because I’d hate to think that you were laughing while we’re discussing the latest intel.” He glared at me as if challenging me to disagree.
“Of course not.” I kept my chin up and my eyes straight ahead. Show no weakness. It was a lesson that had been ingrained in me long before joining the SEALs.
Though, of course, I had been laughing to myself. God, this girl—Olivia. She was something else. Her latest email had come as quite a surprise.
It had been a few days since I’d emailed her, and I hadn’t thought to check the account assigned to me for the Spines for Soldiers program. I hadn’t thought about the program at all, nor had I reconsidered my stance on reading the book. It remained on my nightstand, collecting dust.
It wasn’t that I was opposed to reading, despite what I’d written in my initial email to Olivia. In fact, when I was younger, I’d loved reading. My mom had always encouraged it. And we’d spend hours together, huddled up in my bed reading. That said, I remained skeptical that this program, that reading with a stranger and emailing about it, would heal me. I was pretty sure nothing could heal the wounds of my past.
But her latest email… I shook my head. I honestly was stunned she’d had the guts to call me an asshole, let alone the insults that followed. I was too amused to be offended. Too surprised to be upset.
She was…different than I’d expected. She also—despite her nerdy bullet-point lists, self-professed bookworm tendencies, and cat-lady ways—had stood up to me. Some of her jabs were a bit juvenile in nature, but she’d made her point. Better yet, she’d made me laugh. You are what you eat… God, I hadn’t expected that from her.
I spent the rest of the morning thinking about her. Where was she from? What did she look like? Did she have a boyfriend? I shook away the thought. I shouldn’t care if she had a boyfriend. I shouldn’t be thinking about her at all, but she was a good distraction.
When I got home from physical therapy, I struggled my way up to my apartment, ready to ditch this damn cane. And by the time I made it into my bedroom, I was fucking exhausted.
My knee was aching after a grueling hour of rehab, so I popped a pain pill before grabbing a bag of ice and lying back on my bed. I was tempted to reach for my phone or laptop, but neither sounded appealing. And when a flash of teal caught my eye, I glanced over at the book I’d been ignoring—Alone in Alaska.
I picked it up and flipped it over to read the back cover. The story sounded interesting. It was about a seventeen-year-old who’d been flying to Alaska with his tutor when their plane crashed. It was touted as an epic tale of survival and love, and I found myself spreading the pages to discover the story within.
I lost track of time as the author wove a tale of heartache and sacrifice, but above all, of love. The kid was clearly crushing on his teacher, but she was resolute. He’d finally turned nineteen, and she seemed to be reconsidering her stance on their relationship. They’d been living in the wilderness for over a year, and they relied on each other. Cared for each other.
“Cujo,” Decker said, rapping on my open door.
“What?” I snapped my head up, slamming the book shut.
“Whoa. Are you reading something other than an ops guide?”
I set the book aside, realizing that the sun was setting. When had that happened? I’d heard him come home, but I hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. I flipped on the bedside lamp, ignoring his question.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“You’re coming out with us tonight, right?”
I didn’t want to go out, not when I was still limping around. It only drew more attention to me and my injury.
I shook my head. “Nah. I think I’m going to sit this one out.”
“That’s what you said last week. No more excuses.” He turned for the door, but I didn’t move.
He returned and pulled out the chair from my desk and took a sea
t on it. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Come on.” He nudged my foot with his. “You and I both know that’s a lie. And we always swore we’d be honest with each other. Is it your dad? Did he try reaching out to you again?”
I shook my head and blew out a breath. Decker was one of the few people who knew about my dad, but that wasn’t it. “I’m just tired, okay? Physical therapy was grueling.”
“So…there’s nothing else going on?” he asked.
“Nope.” I popped the letter “p.”
He eyed me for a moment as if he didn’t quite believe me, but I didn’t crack. I didn’t want to talk about my feelings. I didn’t want to talk about my injury. I didn’t want to talk about the fact that Mark was right—the mission had fucked with my head.
“Katie will be there.”
“Even more reason not to go,” I muttered. Though I’d apologized, I had acted like an asshole. And I knew if I went, we’d both drink too much and end up back in bed again.
He huffed, and I sensed he had more to say. Decker had been surly lately, withdrawn and moody. I didn’t know what his deal was, but I was glad when he stood, returning the chair to the desk. “Suit yourself.”
I ordered some takeout and opened my book again. I was almost more irritated with him for interrupting my reading than anything else. A snowstorm had just descended on Tracey and Ace in Alaska, and I needed to know what was going to happen.
I read while I ate, and I stayed up way too late just to finish the book. When I finally made it to the last page, it felt as if I’d run the emotional gauntlet. I’d never felt so connected to the characters, as if they were my friends. And I needed to talk to someone who had read it.
I unplugged my phone from the charger and navigated to the internet browser. There was only one person I knew who might understand what I was feeling. And she thought I was an arrogant—strike that, asshole, according to her—SEAL who hated reading.
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