4. Quantified Risk Assessment
FOUR
QUANTIFIED RISK ASSESSMENT
Kaley
“Well, that was awkward.” Staring straight ahead, I focus on the cream-colored pre-cast concrete facade of our destination and not the lingering feeling of Evan’s hard-on pressed against my ass.
I take Evan’s light laughter for agreement as he adjusts the controls to drive seamlessly over the curb and onto the grass.
Relaxing against the seat back, I’m both grateful for Evan taking the shortcut to Building Ten and for the fact that my bare ass isn’t bouncing all over the seat thanks to the LTV’s self-leveling technology that will enable astronauts to smoothly re-explore the moon’s rough terrain.
I may be a safety engineer with a wardrobe malfunction, but I defy anyone to ride in an LTV and not geek out.
“By the way”—Evan keeps his eyes straight ahead—“thanks for the bouncy house rescue.”
I snort, remembering unearthing him from the ball pit. “Well, as my job is all about safety, I couldn’t have just left you.”
The stomach flutters, the ones that had me agreeing to go to dinner with Evan two weeks ago, are back.
“And while I’m sorry your pants split and for the, uh, other thing”—we glide to the right as he simultaneously turns all four wheels to a forty-five degree angle, sending the rover into a glide to avoid a ditch before straightening out again—“I’m glad we finally have this chance to catch up.”
Dang it. I should’ve seen this coming.
Gauging the distance between us and Building Ten, I will the rover to speed up. “Ah, yeah. I’ve been kind of busy lately.”
Evan’s brow cocks at my lame excuse. “So busy you couldn’t return a call or a text?”
I wince at being called out.
“I thought things were going great,” he says almost to himself, as if he’s running over every aspect of our dates. “I just want to make sure I didn’t do something wrong.”
Guilt sucker-punches me.
I hadn’t meant to make him anxious. I just needed some space.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.” I drop a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. His muscles bunch beneath my touch. “I’m sorry about going M.I.A.” Dropping my hand, I shift in my seat, my bare skin chafing over the carbon fiber weave. “I just needed to think.”
Evan slows the rover to less than a snail’s pace. “What did you need to think about?”
Mentally cringing, I do my best to answer without answering. “I’m still thinking.”
And while that isn’t a lie, it doesn’t mean my thinking this past week has been at all productive. Or that he was wrong when he said things had been going great between us.
I led a course for him and a classroom full of other engineers to recertify in heavy machinery safety. And while I’ve always loved my job as a safety engineer, during those twelve days of recertification, I found myself more eager than usual to get to work.
It was a no-brainer to say yes when Evan asked me to dinner when the course finished.
That first night, we covered a lot of ground, sharing things about our childhood, work, and interests.
He looked impressed when I told him I put myself through college on a softball scholarship, and we laughed over his stories from volunteering as a taste-tester for NASA’s Food Lab (aka kitchen), where the astronaut food is researched, developed, and packaged.
“Dehydrated tuna casserole is awful. I don’t care how much water and mayo you add back to it.”
The night ended with him kissing me on the cheek goodnight in the parking lot.
On our second date, just two days later, he listened as I told him about being raised by a single mother.
How my mother, unaware that my father had been seeing other women, was devastated when he ran off with one of them when she told him she was pregnant with me.
And even after that heartbreak, every holiday season my mom still loves to tell me and anyone who will listen that I’m the best Christmas gift she ever received, having been born on December 25.
Evan held my hand at the start and smiled at the last.
I’d never shared so much with someone so soon or felt so natural doing it.
And I had a sneaking suspicion that my mother would love him.
Which was confirmed when, just before we closed down the restaurant, Evan opened up about his own mother having died when he was six and his father just two years ago of a heart attack.
And while my heart hurt for him, it also beat faster, knowing he must feel as comfortable as I had to be able to share that part of himself with me so soon.
That night, our kiss goodnight was far from sweet.
We only had a few dates, and yet the feeling I had when I saw him walking into Perry’s Steakhouse with another woman the day after our epic goodnight kiss was surprisingly gut-wrenching.
The steakhouse, in row of stores and other restaurants that make up a high-end outdoor mall, is known as the area’s go-to place for special occasions.
The woman on his arm was stylish, wearing a cocktail dress, heels, and over-sized designer sunglasses. I watched from across the courtyard—having gone on an impromptu shopping trip for something to wear on Evan and our next date—as he and the woman walked arm in arm into the restaurant.
Evan and I never said we were exclusive, I told myself on my way back to my car that day. It was just two dates.
But the gut-punch I felt seeing him with someone else gave me serious pause.
I spent most of my school years watching my mother get her hopes up time and time again over a guy only to be hurt and disappointed.
So I worked hard not to repeat her mistakes.
Not to expect too much. That way, when my relationships did end, I wasn’t devastated like my mother, who eventually gave up on love.
“Maybe if you tell me what’s bothering you, I can help you work it out.” Evan, repeating my move, nudges my shoulder with his. “Two heads are better than one and all that.”
Having spaced out for the last few minutes, I’m pleasantly surprised as Evan maneuvers the LTV around the back of Building Ten, bringing it to a stop by the back door.
My relief is short-lived when, instead of exiting the rover, Evan reaches over to guide my chin toward him.
“What’s going through that head of yours, Kaley?” Evan’s fingers trace the contours of my jaw, gliding down the column of my neck.
At his touch, my insecurities fade, and I find myself pulling up my big girl panties that I wish weren’t so metaphorical. “I can’t do casual with you.”
His eyes widen, and his lips part with a look of incredulity.
I brace, unsure if it stems from surprise or wariness.
Then, with a small shake of his head, he smiles. “I can’t do casual with you either.”
The breath I didn’t realize I was holding comes out in a shaky laugh.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask about the woman I saw him with, but I’m distracted when he dips his head below my ear, breathing me in.
“Did you know you smell like lemons?”
I run through a mental list of my bath products. “I think it’s my shampoo.”
“I like it.” His breath sends shivers down my spine.
Just as I begin to worry about the proximity of the growing heat between my legs and the LTV’s passenger seat, Building Ten's back door swings open.
Both of us, startled, turn toward the sound, as the metal door closes behind a good-looking man.
The man reminds me of the Fourth of July with his blond hair, blue eyes, and trim, muscular physique covered in a red, white, and blue plaid button-down. “Mitchell?”
“Hey, Ian.” Hands on his thighs, Evan runs his palms down his jeans. Jeans that look a little tighter than they had a minute ago. “What are you doing here?”
Ian thumbs over his shoulder. “I was checking on the mock-up panel of the Columbus module we need for training next week.” He scans the rover.
“What are you doing with the LTV?” His smile, a little too knowing for my comfort, moves between Evan and me.
“I thought Bodie drew the winning ticket to drive it around today.”
“Borrowed it.” Evan rolls his eyes. “Cost me two nights of babysitting.”
“Just two?” Ian chuckles and walks over to my side of the rover. “Hi, by the way.” He offers his hand. “I’m Ian Kincaid. I work in EVA.”
I grip his hand, pretending like I’m in a conference room and not thong-out on a rover. “Kaley Parker, Office of Safety and Mission Assurance.”
“Oh so you’re Kaley.” He smiles, and if he was selling life insurance, I’d buy it in a heartbeat. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Somewhat blinded by his polished good looks, it takes a minute for what he said to sink in. “I?—”
“Ian’s married.”
Releasing Ian’s hand, I frown at Evan. “I’m sorry?”
Evan shrugs. “Just saying.”
Ian chuckles again. “Hopefully I’ll get a chance to introduce my wife, Trish, to you sometime, Kaley.”
Wondering why he would want to, seeing as we just met, I simply nod.
He points to Evan. “And I’ll tag up with you Monday about the panel changes.” Stepping back, Ian walks past the rover and back toward the festival, pausing at the corner. “And just in case you two were curious, no one else is in the building.”
With that, Mr. America departs, leaving me very much alone with the man who thinks I smell nice after a sweaty afternoon in a ball pit.
But before he can turn those brown puppy-dog eyes on me, I backhand him on the arm. “Just what in the world have you been telling people about me?”