“Hey, Lou,” he said, his voice a little gruffer than normal. He coughed to clear his throat, and Louisa kicked out a hip as she waited for him to pull his shit together. The move raised her top an inch, revealing a narrow band of skin that looked soft enough to lick, which really didn’t help the discomfort he felt in his jeans. “I wanted to come out and check on you. Learn more about what’s going on, see if there isn’t something I can help you with.”
“I appreciate that.” She stepped back and ushered him into the hallway. “I’m not particularly good with … company,” she said quietly.
He couldn’t imagine what that must be like. His own outgoing nature had been the only thing he could count on when he’d had to move as often as he did, fit in with new teams, and make friends in the places he was deployed. “You’re doing just fine,” he said as he entered her home.
The hallway was large but sparse. Pale yellow walls were decorated with framed pictures of vintage technical drawings of insects. There were lithographic plates of butterflies, bees, and grasshoppers. They were unusual yet strangely compelling. Kind of like their owner.
“Many of them are from Otto Staudinger’s Catalog der Lepidopteren des palaearctischen Faunengebietes. It’s the standard work of reference for Lepidoptera.”
The random stuff this woman knew. “Lepidoptera?”
“You know, the groupings of nearly two hundred thousand species of moths and butterflies. It’s a highly organized insect structure. Carl Linnaeus, a Swedish botanist, came up with the term from the Greek words—”
“How do you know all this shit?” he asked.
Louisa tensed, and he wished he’d just let her talk. “Sorry,” she said with a shrug.
“No, seriously. How on earth can you remember all this stuff?”
“Eidetic memory, I guess.”
“Eidetic?”
“Never mind,” she said, and headed toward a closed door. “Can I get you a drink? Beer? Wine?”
Well, crap. That had gone well.
“Sure, beer would be good if you have some.”
He followed her into a kitchen of the brightest blue. Wooden shelves lined one wall. He was no expert, but china that looked like it came from one of those expensive stores lined the shelves, like the kind Cabe’s fiancée had placed on their wedding registry before … well … he shook his head. China rimmed in silver sat next to plates like the ones he’d picked up for nothing at IKEA. And mixed in were pottery-style plates in vibrant colors that could have come from any street market in Mexico.
Without wasting movement or words, Louisa efficiently went to the fridge, grabbed a beer, and cracked the cap before handing it to him. Popcorn sat in a bright blue bowl on the counter. Next to it, a glass of white wine, the condensation on it telling him that she’d only recently poured it.
“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” Alcohol and popcorn seemed like such a date thing to do.
Louisa smiled. “Not unless you count scaring myself to death with vintage horror. I was just about to put something else on.” She looked up at him, and with her head tilted to the side, he could see her eyes clearly again. “You want to come watch something? I mean, while we chat, we could … never mind. You probably have stuff to do, and I have some reports I need to—”
“I’d love to,” he said, unable to hide the grin at her awkwardness.
“Really?” she asked, those coffee-colored eyes of hers as wide as the stash of Christmas plates he’d seen displayed on her shelves. In August.
“Really. Unless you have chronically bad taste in movies, in which case I’m out, beer or no beer,” he said, picking up the bowl of popcorn.
“Oh-kay,” she said, drawing out the syllables as if he’d just given her an instruction she didn’t understand. It sounded more like a question than an answer.
It was impossible to ignore the subtle sway of her hips as she walked ahead of him. He was such a sucker for hips. And ass. And tits. Especially ones with responsive nipples under thin tanks. Goddamn. Focus.
Louisa set her wine down on the table and opened a door in the built-in unit around the television.
Six couldn’t help but laugh as he put his beer and the popcorn down. “Lou, I don’t get it,” he said. He stepped closer to her and ran his fingers over the spines of movie after movie that were not only organized by category, but also had laminated cards stuck to the shelf telling him where each section started.
“Don’t get what?” she asked, the look on her face one of genuine confusion.
“This,” he said, gesturing his hand up and down the shelf. “Your kitchen shelves are an eclectic mix of stuff, all piled randomly, yet you organized the shit out of this.”
“Well, I don’t get this,” she said, gesturing up and down him the way he had at her shelf. “Tell me again why you are here.”
She was cute when she was prickly. He reached forward and pulled Ocean’s Eleven, the original one, from a category titled CAPERS, and handed it to her.
“I heard it’s movie night at the North house, so figured I’d come hang out.” He moved to the sofa, flopped down, and placed his boots on the glass coffee table.
Once the movie started, she came and sat by him, and he did his best to ignore the way her shorts rode up her thighs. He spent more of his time with company in his bed than not. And that company, whoever she was that given day, usually had no issue whatsoever dropping her clothes the moment she stepped through his door. So naked skin he was totally down with. Yet somehow, just that tiny bit of extra flesh had him feeling giddy, like he was the boy who’d lost his virginity in less than two minutes giving it to Jessica McKade.
Louisa slapped his thigh. “At least take your shoes off,” she said before she stuck her hand in their popcorn.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, sitting forward and toeing his boots off.
A week ago, he couldn’t have imagined himself ready to take orders again so soon, but back then, he hadn’t met Louisa North.
CHAPTER FIVE
Missing someone she wasn’t even in a relationship with because she hadn’t seen them since Wednesday, and it was now Saturday, was ridiculous. With a capital R. So instead, Louisa drove to Torrey Pines to collect her mom, then drove them back to Coronado so they could have lunch at the Hotel Del, her mother’s favorite spot. The fact that she’d listened to Nina Simone all the way there and back had nothing to do with it. For the first time in her life, it felt good to be out of the lab and away from the invisible band she felt around her chest when she stepped inside.
There’d been no progress, and Liz had advised her that Vasilii was becoming irritated by her constant requests for information. Louisa’s gut told her that what had happened mattered, but she’d begun to consider that it was her ego speaking. What if it got out into the research community about her failure? Sure, research was all about test, trial, revisit. Failure was as much a part of a researcher’s life as white coats and biohazards. But she didn’t want the world to see her dirty laundry. Plus, she’d begun to wonder if it would reflect badly on her personally as head of that specific lab that the sample was stolen from.
Before driving home, they’d headed south down the island. All her life, she’d known that Navy SEALs trained along the beach. Hell, before they’d closed access to that part of the shoreline, she may have even seen them a time or two. Hauling logs up and down the dunes, or diving in and out of the water. But it felt different knowing that this was a place Six had spent a large chunk of his life, and she’d never met him. In fact, if he hadn’t approached her on the balcony at the presentation, their paths would likely have never crossed. As she’d dropped her mom off at home, she’d commented that Louisa had seemed distracted. It was nothing less than the truth, and she knew she needed to do something.
By the time she turned her car onto her driveway, she was exhausted, but she knew she needed to make a list. She took a deep inhale of the lavender she’d planted in the container by the front door, letting it soothe her
as she turned the key in the lock and stepped inside. Louisa took her purse upstairs and placed it by her desk before she kicked off her shoes. Thankfully, the wooden sculptures were where she had left them. Quickly, she grabbed a notebook and headed to the kitchen. Once seated, she turned the page in her notebook and started a new list. SIX.
Her pencil hovered above the page as she replayed Wednesday evening’s events in her mind. He’d stayed for nearly three hours and had switched to water after his first beer. As they’d watched the movie, he’d asked her questions about what had happened, and she’d explained how she’d truly believed Vasilii would do the right thing for the sake of the lab’s reputation. Once Vasilii had completed his investigation, he’d call her up and apologize for being so short with her, she was certain. He wouldn’t tolerate that kind of mess in his lab.
Six had challenged her to call the police, but she owed it to Vasilii to trust him that the right people had been involved, let him carry out his own investigation in his own way first. Plus, despite Ivan’s suspicious behavior, hovering over her shoulder in the lab all day, there could be an explanation she hadn’t considered. Science had taught her not to close off potential avenues of investigation. She’d promised Six, however, that if Vasilii’s findings were anything other than the truth as she knew it, she’d call the police immediately.
What should she write on this list? He was understanding. Was helpful to talk it through with. Has eyes the color of a winter storm.
Gah. This was useless. She slapped the pencil down on the table. Just thinking about the man was stirring her up all over again. He’d never touched her … Well, except for the times when their hands had reached into the popcorn at the same time. At first it had been awkward, and she’d pulled her hand out right away. But Six had turned it into a game, grabbing her fingers when they came within the proximity of his. His reflexes were so quick that she didn’t have time to whisk hers out of his reach. Occasionally he’d held on to her fingers for just a fraction longer than she would have held on to his, had the tables been reversed.
Louisa leaned back in her chair. The way he’d looked in blue denim that hugged his ass and the black T-shirt that was so dull yet freaking heavenly in the way it followed the contour of his biceps had been delicious enough. But the way he always led with one side of his mouth when he smiled with the other side following and the way he’d look at her from the corners of his eyes without ever moving his head just added to the tension. He’d probably noticed how … aware … he made her after she hurried to the kitchen to top up her wine when she still had half a glass left. She’d just needed to leave the room before she imploded.
The sound of her phone ringing made her jump. Six flashed up on her phone. Literally. A photo of him sitting on her sofa appeared on the screen.
“Did you mess with my phone?” she asked.
“Hey, Louisa. I’m good, thanks for asking. How are you?” Six asked, his easy drawl laced with humor.
Fine. She didn’t need to be quite so curt. “I’m good. What’s up?”
“I’m coming around later,” he said. “Will you be home?”
He was what? “Why?”
“Because that third shelf of yours in the kitchen looks like it’s going to collapse. I’m adding a middle bracket to all the shelves so they’ll bear more weight. So are you in? It might be late. Like nine-ish.”
She ran a hand through her hair, suddenly feeling bulldozed, and studied the shelves. He was correct. They were bowing in the middle. How come she’d never noticed it before? And was the answer really a man she barely knew coming to her house for some DIY? “Um…”
“If you don’t mind waiting, I could pick up takeout, or order pizza or something.”
Just the thought of him joining her for another evening felt … everything.
“Shelves and pizza,” he said, without giving her time to respond. “Not a big deal, Lou. Don’t overthink it.” Why did he have to sound so thoroughly … breezy … about it? Probably because he did this kind of thing all the time.
“Fine. Thank you,” she added quickly.
“No worries, Lou. See you later.”
She hung up the phone as she attempted to process what the hell just happened. In the relatively short space of a week, she’d lost a sample and gained a male friend. A male friend who happened to be built like one of those Calvin Klein models she’d seen on billboards.
With the thought of Six posing reclined in his underwear, she needed cooling off. She slipped into her swimsuit, grabbed a towel from the closet, and headed out of the sliding door in the kitchen toward the pool.
Several hours later, Louisa deadheaded the fresh herbs she grew on the large kitchen windowsill. Not that they really needed pruning, but it gave her something to do with the nervous energy buzzing through her. All of her crockery and glasses were stacked on the counters, leaving the wooden shelves empty. She’d wiped the nonexistent dust from them and had begun the process of running some of the dishes she rarely used through the dishwasher.
The closer she got to Six’s arrival, the more she felt like calling to cancel. The shelves were fine. Heck, she could even head over to her mom’s and borrow the tools that belonged to her father that her mother hadn’t been able to get rid of after his death. There had to be time in her schedule to attempt some handiwork herself, in between her research and bed each day.
She heard a bang outside and leaned toward the window to see if Six had parked in her driveway, but nobody was there. Probably one of the neighbors closing a car door or taking out the trash. The scent of mint filled the air as she finished pruning and dropped the scissors into the sink.
The same noise came again, quieter this time but accompanied by the sound of glass clinking against glass. The sound was coming from inside her house.
She wanted it to be Six. Wanted him to be playing some stupid prank that she could be mad about later. Part of her thought about calling out to him to be sure. But she knew it wasn’t.
She heard glass hitting glass again. Somebody must have slid her dining room window open, because the sound of glass tinkling was coming from her collection of antique insulators that sat on shelves beneath the window. Louisa’s heart raced as she thought through her options. Her phone was still charging in the office, and running upstairs away from exit doors didn’t feel like the smartest thing to do. She could escape through the patio doors in the kitchen and scream in the hope someone would hear, realize it was her, and then run to help her. Given that the key to the lock on the rear gate was hanging on a hook in the hallway, the odds of it being a successful strategy were low. Or she could creep toward the front door. It would require walking past the archway to the dining room, but she could grab her car keys and run to her car. That felt like the best option.
Gingerly, she picked up the rolling pin she kept on the counter and the large carving knife from the knife block and crept toward the entrance.
* * *
It was a little after nine o’clock when Six pulled slowly onto Louisa’s street. The truck could be noisy, and the last thing he wanted to do was aggravate or wake the neighborhood. Six yawned. He’d spent the last few hours with Cabe in communication with Mac to go over all of the final details for the extraction of the little girl in the custody case. They’d located her and had spent several days trailing the family to establish a pattern of life from which they could deduce the best time to grab her. The location for the pickup had been decided. It would take place early Sunday morning from the girl’s grandmother’s home, before she was returned to her father’s home. It would take them approximately eleven minutes to get from the collection point to the helicopter and the beginning of her return to US soil. Hopefully they’d be in the air before the police had made it to the scene. Thanks to a former SEAL with the right connections, they’d be landing at a private airport about twenty miles outside of San Diego. Cabe was to collect the mother once the plane was wheels up out of Mexico.
The details were st
ill buzzing around in his head. It felt odd being purely on the logistics end of an op when his heart belonged in the action of it. It was even harder when his mind kept drifting to Louisa. Lack of focus had never been his problem. In fact, his clarity had been one of his enduring traits. But despite the significance of this first op, he was worried. For some reason, he could sense how much it had cost her to come ask him for help, and the way she’d accepted what Cabe had said and had disappeared so quickly made it clear that she hadn’t expected them to help her anyway. Now, after spending time with her midweek, he was more committed than ever to keeping tabs on her. He was certain that some people would find her abrupt, standoffish even, but he could see the person beneath all that, and he had a sneaking suspicion she didn’t have anybody to lean on. He wanted to check on her again, and the shelves were a good excuse.
Plenty of women showed interest in him, and a solid amount of them followed through, either by slipping him their numbers or simply launching a full-on assault. He liked both approaches equally, almost as much as he’d liked the feel on Louisa’s eyes on him, but on Wednesday she’d never moved from her end of the sofa, not even when he’d started messing around when she’d reached for popcorn. What would she have done if he’d reached for her hand and kept hold of it? Six shook his head. Why was he even thinking about this? This was nothing more than offering a friendly hand to someone who’d offered him the same courtesy when he’d freaked out on his run.
A black van was parked across the street from Louisa’s. The sliding side door was open and the engine was running, but strangely the lights were off. By the illumination of his own headlights, he could see the driver looking nervously toward Louisa’s driveway, straining from left to right as if to try to get a better line of sight.
He’d always believed that the best SEALs had the ability to slow time, could somehow absorb thousands of details in a split second, process them, and make a decision in the time it took normal people to blink. The driver of the van spotted him, sat up tall, and reached his hand toward something on the seat next to him.
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