Chapter 7
Chapter 7
M aggie was exhausted. A new terror cell had sprung up seemingly overnight in New York with ties to London. The team had been working nonstop the last few days to try and get ahead of it. Ridge flew to New York while Maggie and Blue fed him information from DC. Blue was an extraordinarily talented hacker. It had been fun to watch a master at work. Maggie compiled everything he gathered into an easily accessible database, one that could cross reference with social media and all the chatter they received from intercepted phone lines. Thanks to their hard work, arrests had been made in both cities. Now, after a whirlwind trip back home to DC, Ridge was flying to London to debrief and compare notes with their intelligence committee.
“You look cute,” Ridge said.
“If you like girls in glasses, yoga pants, and hair that screams, ‘I haven’t slept in days’,” Maggie said. Traffic was tight, and she couldn’t take her eyes off the road to look at him.
“I do,” he assured her. He didn’t normally. He was a man who liked women to put as much effort into their appearance as he did. But with Maggie things were different. Seeing her dressed down was a reminder of when they first met. Usually at the office she looked so sophisticated and put together, like any typical DC urbanite. But when she got comfy, she became his Maggie, the silly one who made him laugh and got excited over warm cookies. “Thanks for doing this.”
“No problem,” she said. She honestly didn’t mind driving him to the airport at three AM, but who knew there would be so much traffic so early in the morning? Or was it late at night? New York was supposed to be the city that didn’t sleep, but they had nothing on DC.
“Are you and Blue an item?” Ridge asked and Maggie nearly swerved into an embankment.
“No. Why would you even ask that?” She fought hard to keep her eyes on the road, but she wanted to look at him, to read what was in his face. By his tone, she couldn’t imagine what was going on in his head.
“You’re together a lot.”
“We’re friends,” Maggie said.
“There seems to be something more there, a certain chemistry,” Ridge said.
“I’m not his type,” Maggie said. “He likes girls with interesting tattoos and colored hair. I’m way too plain Jane ordinary for him.”
“It sounds like what you’re saying is that if he were interested in you, you’d go out with him,” Ridge said.
“What? No, how are you getting that from what I said? Neither of us is interested in the other. We’re friends, the end. What is this about?”
“You spend a lot of time together,” he said.
“So do we,” she pointed out.
“And look at us now.” He reached across the console to squeeze her knee.
“Blue and I are friends, just friends,” Maggie reiterated.
“Good, because office romances are not allowed, not on my watch,” he said.
“You’re in luck because there aren’t any. Well, except with the food cart guy who brings warm muffins on Wednesdays. I think he and I might have something special,” she mused.
“If you have to pay a guy to bring you warm muffins, you’re doing it wrong,” he said.
“Dating advice from Cameron Ridge. I should be writing this down, this stuff is gold,” she said. “What else can you tell me?”
“Actions speak louder than words, always. Don’t listen to what a man says. We’ll say anything. Pay attention to his actions. They’ll tell you his intent every time.” His hand still rested on her knee. He gave it a light squeeze.
“I actually should write that down. It’s good advice.”
“All my advice is good,” he protested.
“Like when we were in the park last week and you told me that hornet’s nest was empty, so I touched it and a bunch of angry hornets came out and Samson and I had to run away screaming?” she reminded him.
“You got a good workout that day,” he said. “No complaining.”
They arrived at the airport. She tried to leave him at the passenger drop off, but Ridge was having none of it.
“You’re not going to walk me in? I’m flying overseas. I may never come home again. Someone needs to see me off,” he said. “This is bad deployment etiquette.”
“Liar, liar pants on fire. You want me to be a pack mule and help carry one of your twelve thousand bags,” she said.
“That’s not true—I want you to carry two of my bags,” he said, grinning.
“Fine, but you know what this makes us?” she said.
“Too cheap to pay a valet?” he guessed as they unloaded his bags from her car.
“This seals the deal between us. We’re official airport buddies now. Do you understand the implications, and are you ready to accept them?” she asked.
“What are the implications, besides me getting to see you with your glasses on and hair a mess while you mutter darkly at interstate traffic?” he asked.
“This is an official next step in our friendship. It means we have no one else who likes us enough to take us places in the middle of the night. We’re officially friendless losers, minus each other,” she said. “Though, to be fair, my dog would totally drive me to the airport, if he knew how to work the pedals in the car. So really, you’re a loser. I’m doing all right.”
“You’re considering teaching your dog to drive so you can use the carpool lane. I wouldn’t say you’re doing well,” he said.
“Can we talk about the fact that you’re a former navy guy, and yet you over pack like a thirteen-year-old girl?” she complained, shifting his bags around to relieve the pressure from her shoulders.
“Let me guess: if you were going to London, you’d only bring one bag,” he said.
“No, I would stuff a couple of pairs of underwear in my backpack and call it a day,” she said. She loved to travel, and she always traveled lightly.
“You’re awfully cranky for someone who hasn’t slept in days and is driving around DC at three in the morning,” he noted.
“I’m not cranky; I’m insanely jealous,” she informed him.
“Why?” he asked. “Because I’m taking the redeye? I’ve got news for you, it’s not as glamorous as I’m making it out to be.” They reached the last security gate before they had to separate and stopped, facing each other.
She set his bags down and clutched his lapels. “You’re going to London, Cam. London. Do you even understand how exciting that is? You have to go to Piccadilly Circus. And that big market with all the food, and London Bridge, and the Palace. Please take a picture of the changing of the guard for me, pretty please. And have formal tea. Ask London intelligence if there really is a Double 07 and if he’s single. And try to figure out what clotted cream is and why everyone eats it when it sounds like a biological dysfunction.”
“Maggie, you understand that I’m going there on business, right? I’m jetting over for a few days to have endless meetings and flying right back. It’s not going to be fun.”
“But you won’t be having fun in London ,” she said.
“This is a productive conversation. I’m glad you’re hearing me.” He rested his hands on hers, which were still attached to his lapels. “Are you going to miss me while I’m gone? Driving me to the airport doesn’t count if you’re not going to miss me.”
“Obviously. There’s a birthday party this week. Who is going to rudely refuse my cake and offers of social interaction?” she said. “Try to get out for a little fun. At least have tea.”
“I had no idea you liked London so much. I should have taken you with me,” he said.
“Was that an option?” she exclaimed, aghast.
“You were the primary contributor to the report that spurred this entire visit. I think I could easily have swung it,” he said.
She made a pained sound, something between a gag and a whimper.
“I thought I was saving you,” he said, his tone apologetic. “It’s going to be completely exhausting.”
“ Completely exhausting in London, Cameron.”
“Next time,” he promised.
“I would love that, love. Do you think maybe we could arrange to cover a terrorist cell with ties to Paris next time?” she asked. “I could really go for a croissant.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said. He brushed some wild hairs off her face. At work her topknot was straight and neat, the quintessential librarian hairdo. After, it was loose and messy, often springing free in a mad dash to escape. There was a metaphor for the woman herself in there somewhere, but he hadn’t yet found it. “Take good care of the office while I’m away.”
“Sure thing, Boss,” she agreed.
“Thanks again for the ride,” he said.
“Anytime, airport buddy.”
“You’re going to remember to pick me up, right?” he asked.
“I will be here at three in the morning, four days hence,” she said.
“Don’t say ‘hence’ in everyday conversation. The other spies will know you’re a librarian and tease you,” he urged.
“Remember, if you get confused by the language barrier, say, ‘Ello, guvna, care for a cuppa?’” Maggie said.
“I have been to London a half dozen times and never once heard anyone talk that way. You seem to be under the delusion everyone there is an extra from Mary Poppins ,” he said.
She stood on her toes to hug him and whispered in his ear. “At least eat a scone while you’re there. For me.”
“For you, I will eat a scone,” he agreed. He returned her hug, picking her up off the ground so her toes skimmed the carpet a few seconds before he set her down again. With a final wave, he shouldered all of his bags and headed through the gate.
Maggie turned toward the exit, feeling a bit lost and empty. It was only a few days, but she had come to depend on him an enormous amount. Though it had never happened, Ridge would be the person Maggie would call if she got a flat tire or ran out of gas or had any other sort of cataclysmic emergency. She had even amended her personnel records to make him her hospital contact, in case she landed somewhere unconscious. The fact that he was temporarily unavailable to her made her feel insecure. She supposed she could call Blue if she needed something, but he lived in Downtown DC, far away from her suburban house. And, while she and Blue were friends, they didn’t share the same comfort level she and Ridge did.
She was doubtless overthinking things because she was tired. The chances she would have a flat tire or other emergency in the next few days were slim. Ridge would return soon, and all would be right with the world again. In the meantime, she could join the automobile club, if she felt it was necessary.
Trying hard to stay awake and alert, she found her car, drove home, and fell into much-needed sleep.
On the airplane, Ridge looked out the window and contemplated taking a nap. He would be jetlagged no matter what he did; flying east was a lose-lose situation, and there would be no time to recoup. Once he landed, he would be in nonstop meetings until he returned back home. He tried to picture Maggie by his side through the exhaustion and smiled. She would be frazzled, but she would be fun. One secret he had learned about Maggie—the more tired she felt, the slap-happier she became. When sleepy, she was the very definition of punch drunk.
“You two were cute.” The middle-aged woman beside him spoke with a deep southern twang.
“Excuse me?” he said, turning to her with a questioning glance.
“You and your girlfriend. Or maybe your wife? Are you newlyweds?” she asked. “The blond, at the gate. I was watching. It brought back good memories of me and my husband.”
“Oh, thank you, but that wasn’t my wife. And we’re not dating. She’s a coworker.”
Her brows rose. “Coworker? I worked at the same company for thirty years, and if I’d ever had a coworker like that, I would have worked another thirty.” Smiling, she closed her eyes and put on her headphones.
Ridge turned his attention back out the window with a shake of his head. What would give anyone the idea he and Maggie were dating? They were like night and day, just friends, nothing more. It was probably a generational thing. Older people were always trying to pair off the younger generation.
Thinking of Maggie renewed his feelings of guilt. He should have brought her along. It would be nice for his team to get out of the office, to get some recognition, and Maggie was by far the only one he would want to accompany him on such a long and tedious journey. If she were here now, she wouldn’t be contemplating a nap. She would have her nose pressed to the window—after finagling him out of the window seat, of course. Her excitement level for the upcoming blitz of boring meetings would be at a ten. If she were here, the meetings likely wouldn’t be boring. She would scribble asides in the margins of his notes, as she did back home, inappropriate little comments that tempted him to laugh at the worst possible moment while she sat straight-faced and serious, giving no outward indication of the naughtiness within. Maggie made everything warm, alive, vibrant, and plain old fun.
He was relieved to hear there was nothing between her and Blue. He assumed she would have told him if there was, but sometimes people didn’t realize what was going on until another person pointed it out. That was why he had asked, to make sure. The way Blue looked at her sometimes made Ridge wonder, but at least now he knew Maggie wasn’t interested in Blue. Since Maggie arrived, his team had started to click. An office romance would mar the perfect symbiosis they were beginning to establish. He was glad he wouldn’t have to deal with that sort of thing.
He rested his head on the seat and closed his eyes, warm thoughts of Maggie lulling him to sleep.