Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was nearing four when Xander emailed Rizzo, Team Three’s lead, asking for a few points of clarification on his team’s latest mission report.
Glancing around their giant work area, he saw only members of the cyber team remained at their workstations, which wasn’t unusual for a Friday.
Carmichael and the other two members of Team Two had taken over the security training at Pacific View Resort, and Team Three was in Seattle for the day providing extra security for a tech bigwig.
Xander’s teammates, Wilson and Tash, were roaming around somewhere, probably helping out at Hudson Tactical with a search and rescue group that had arrived earlier in the day.
After quickly checking his outbox, he shut down his computer and glanced at his phone beside his keyboard.
Don’t do it.
He reached for his phone but yanked his hand back. He stared at his phone for a few seconds and then rolled his eyes. Fuck it.
He grabbed it and pulled up the text messages he’d received from Freya. Again. Did it make him a sap that he’d lost track of how many times he’d reread them since last night? Probably.
Did he care?
Maybe?
He winced. Okay, fine. Not really.
But he should care, because he’d spent a whole hell of a lot of time thinking about the woman when he should’ve been focused on work.
Glancing down at the messages, he scrolled back to the beginning and grinned.
Freya
Hey, Xander! Good news—the salon is reopening earlier than expected. I was wondering if you were free tomorrow for that haircut?
Hi—nice to hear from you. Tomorrow should work, but probably not until late afternoon. What time were you thinking?
I can make any time after 2 work.
What’s the latest appointment you can do?
The spa closes at 5:30 so usually 4:30. But if you need to do later, I’m sure my boss won’t have a problem with me having you come later.
His mind had hit the gutter at her final words. Yes, he was an immature adolescent.
No, 4:30 works. I was hoping you’d join me after for dinner. Minus Daisy this time around. And not just ice cream.
At the time, her immediate reply had him grinning. Now, a day later, he was still smiling.
Count me in! Want me to make reservations somewhere here at the resort or were you thinking downtown?
Downtown. How does Monty’s sound?
Love that place! And it’s walking distance from my new apartment, so I’ll get to indulge in some drinks.
Yikes. That sounded awful. I’m not a lush. I promise. They just make these blue-raspberry lemon drops that are absolutely divine. But I tend to end up having at least one more than I should since they go down so easy.
Yup. Mind back in the gutter.
Holy crap. Disregard all that. I really need to stop nervous texting.
You’re absolutely fine. And your nervous texting is pretty damn cute.
And I mean that in the most polite, respectful non-creeper way possible.
Ha! Well, thanks. And trust me—I know creeper, and you’re as far from that as possible.
I’m glad you think so.
I’ll see you tomorrow at 4:30.
I’ll make sure they have your info at the front desk. Just check in there when you arrive and they’ll get you a pass.
But you probably already knew that considering the whole security consulting thing you do.
Holy crap. I’m doing it again. Erase.
And it’s still cute. No worries at all. Besides, if anyone should be nervous, it should be me. I’ve never had a fancy haircut before. I did mention that I usually cut my own hair, right?
Yes. The mere thought of that still hurts my heart. Not that your glaringly uneven haircut detracts from your looks at all or anything. Because you most definitely can pull off your lopsided do.
Holy. Crap.
I need to go put my phone down. No more nervous texting for me tonight . . .
Haha! Well, I still stand by my earlier statement. Your nervous texting is cute.
I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. Have a good night, Freya.
You too.
“Well, if that’s not a sappy-ass grin, I don’t know what is.”
He startled and quickly glanced up. Tash flopped into her chair at the desk beside his and swiveled to face him. Okay, fine. Flopped was a bit of an exaggeration. The woman was irritatingly graceful. And so damn light on her feet. Obviously.
“What’s up?” he asked, flipping his phone face down.
She rolled her eyes and then nodded to his phone. “Should I be asking you that?”
He aimed for a casual shrug. “It’s nothing.”
“Right.” She snorted. “Is it still the woman you’re moon-eyed over from the resort or has another lucky lady snared your attention?”
It was times like this that he wished Tash didn’t know him so well. Instead of answering her, he heaved out a sigh. “Would it do any good to say it’s none of your business?”
“Nope,” she replied, popping the P. The grin she shot him was 100 percent smart-ass. “Spill.”
“It’s the hairstylist from the Pacific View, but,” he rushed on when Tash opened her mouth to, no doubt, give him shit, “we’re just friends, and she was texting me about cutting my hair.”
Tash stared at him in silence for a few moments, and it took everything he had not to squirm under her gaze. “Since I know you’re actually interested in her, I’ll butt out. For now.”
He frowned. “Actually interested in her? Why do you say it like that?”
Her smart-ass grin was back in full force. “Because, my friend, if it was just gonna be a casual fuck, you’d have no issues telling me all about her.”
Damn. Tash wasn’t wrong, but still . . . “We’re just friends. It’s too early to know if she’ll be, as you eloquently put it, a casual fuck.”
Tash rolled her eyes. “You like her.”
“Fine.” No point in denying it. “You’re right.”
“My favorite words.”
“Don’t I know it,” he muttered, grabbing his phone and rising. “As much as I’d love to chat, I have to get going or I’ll be late for my haircut.”
She rose and walked beside him to their area’s secure exit. “There was actually a reason I stopped by.”
“Aside from to give me grief?”
“You know that’s always just a side benefit.” She bumped her shoulder into his. “I’m staying on-island tonight in one of the cabins, and Esme’s grilling steaks. Wilson, Carmichael, Gavin, and Bean are all coming. You’re officially invited as well. You in?”
He shook his head as he typed his code into the door’s keypad. The door swooshed open, and they stepped into the main lobby. “No can do. I invited Freya to dinner after the haircut thing.”
Tash’s eyebrow arched. “I thought you were just friends, Cassanova?”
“We are. It’s simply a casual dinner between friends.
A thank-you for cutting my hair if you will.
” At least, that’s what he was telling himself it was.
Yes, the woman had consumed an inordinate amount of his headspace these last few days.
And he could admit that he liked her. However, he truly didn’t know her.
Freya seemed nice, but he’d been wrong countless times before.
So this was a casual dinner between friends.
If anything progressed beyond that, only time would tell.
And he was still on the fence regarding whether or not he wanted that . . .
Tash smirked. “Sure. You keep telling yourself that. But do me a favor?”
He narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion. “Depends . . .”
“Don’t be one of those assholes who ditches his friends for a chick, okay?”
Xander shook his head. He and his friends were a tight-knit bunch. They were his family. His only family. Any woman who’d ever tried to come between them—and a few had tried—were quickly kicked to the curb. “Never. Sparring tomorrow?”
“Of course. See you at five thirty.” Her gaze drifted to his hair, and she smirked. “I can’t wait to see what your lady does with that mop on your head.”
Rolling his eyes, he gave her a salute and turned toward his car.
Five minutes later, he pulled into a parking space at the Pacific View Resort. With ten minutes to spare, he made his way to the main check-in desk. Scanning the lobby—occupational hazard—he saw Kwon and Carmichael off to the side. He gave them a chin lift and approached the counter.
As he waited for the front-desk guy to process his guest pass, a throat cleared behind him.
“If it isn’t Xander Bonetti. What brings you to the Pacific View Resort this evening?” Kwon asked.
He took his guest pass from the front-desk man and thanked him before turning to Kwon and Carmichael, waving his key card. “Haircut. How are things going here?”
Carmichael snickered but wisely smothered his grin when Xander shot him a glare.
The guy could give him as much shit as he wanted, but only during off-hours, and most definitely not in front of clients.
Xander took some perverse satisfaction knowing that it was absolutely killing Carmichael to stay quiet.
“Good,” Kwon said. He gestured to Carmichael. “We were just doing a final review of the training program for the front-desk and concierge staff.”
Carmichael cleared his throat and was seemingly back in business mode. “We start training tomorrow. It’ll be in phases so we don’t disrupt the current schedule. We’re looking at three to five days.”
“Nice.” Xander glanced at his watch. Five minutes. “I’ll leave you guys to it.”
Kwon’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Oh, you weren’t kidding about the haircut?”
He shook his head.
“Are you with Lisa or Freya?”
“Freya.” Again, his gaze shot to Carmichael. To anyone else, the other man looked relaxed and professional. But Xander knew there was a smart-ass remark on the tip of his friend’s tongue. When Carmichael shook his head, Xander smothered his own smirk.
“You should have her give you the scalp massage,” Kwon said, glancing down at the tablet he held. “I’m telling you, the woman’s hands are like magic.”