Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
“Why haven’t I seen this movie before?” Rory’s eyes remained glued to the screen.
One hand in the popcorn bowl, the other wrapped around Bear on the couch in the living room.
“It’s riveting. And has my stomach in knots.
” She finally tore her eyes away from the TV to look at her phone, which was perched upright on the coffee table in front of her.
Ella’s face came into view. They’d been chatting for the last twenty minutes over FaceTime while Ella sewed, and Rory watched the movie.
“Because you couldn’t handle war movies when Jesse was in the Army.
They made you nervous,” Ella mumbled, a pin clenched between her teeth.
In her spare time, Ella designed clothes, and she was working on her latest creation—a dress for Rory on the off chance she decided to go to the gala on Friday.
It didn’t make much sense to go back to a world she’d left behind, even if it was the research she’d provided Andrew before they parted ways that most likely enabled him to find the Spanish vessel he was being honored for discovering.
And knowing Andrew, he wanted her there for the same reason he’d been reaching out over the years. To get her back on his team.
Rory reached for the remote and paused the scene in the middle of a gunfight.
She placed the bowl of half-eaten popcorn on the table next to her phone.
The only décor in the room was the surround sound speakers positioned in the corners—not even a lamp or a lonely candlestick on the coffee table.
He’d taken minimalistic to an all-new level.
“He looks like Liam, though,” Ella casually commented after removing the pin from between her teeth. “Right?”
The movie 12 Strong was based on a true story, and the leading star was Chris Hemsworth. “Yeah, he does remind me of Liam. Liam’s daughter refers to her dad as Thor, though, which is cute.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. God of Thunder,” Ella said, imitating Liam’s Australian accent. “But anyway, tonight is night four of being with Chris in Virginia. How’s it going so far?”
Where do I begin? Training both Bear and Chris for hours upon hours each day, while doing her best not to get weak-kneed from his disarming smiles, was tough enough.
But the evenings they spent together sharing conversation over dinner, watching TV while Bear snoozed on his dog bed next to the couch .
. . there were too many words and yet not enough to answer Ella’s question.
And why did he have to keep finding reasons to take off his shirt while they trained? It was October, damn it. Those shirt-taking-off moments were too much for her heart to handle. And, well, other parts of her.
The man was trying to torture her.
Soon enough, she’d be the one sneaking into his bedroom at night after hours instead of Bear.
As much as she’d wanted to get to know the Chris behind the Chris—and she still did—she quickly realized the man would see that as an open door to ask her questions, too.
To probe and inquire about her backstory.
Unless the danger from her past actually found her, she couldn’t talk about the last five years of her life.
So, she’d do her best to let him open up when or if he was ready.
But he was right. She needed to stick to the rules. Her rules—training only, no falling for each other. Because the more he did let her in, the more she was going to care. To possibly fall. And wouldn’t falling be risky?
“Rory?” Ella waved a hand in front of her phone screen.
“Oh, sorry.”
“That good?” Ella smiled. “Or that bad?”
“We’ve fallen into a decent routine. Working in the morning, having lunch, then running some drills in the afternoon. Then dinner.” She swallowed, thinking back to the previous night. “He went out with Finn last night. A bar. They invited me, but I opted to stay with Bear and turn in early.”
“Why do I hear a hint of jealousy in your tone? Worried he’d meet someone at the bar?” Ella probed.
“Of course not.” At her adamantly spoken denial, Bear lifted his head and nudged her with his snout. This dog. She swore if he could talk, he’d have called her a liar. “I’m not,” she mouthed to him, then stroked his head and scratched behind his ear, and he relaxed his head on her lap.
“Where is Chris now?”
“I don’t know. He said he had somewhere to be, and he didn’t seem interested in telling me.” Secret work stuff. “Do you have any idea what your brother actually does? Are you really buying the whole private security thing?”
Ella sat on the chair in her living room and shook her head. “I honestly don’t want to know. It’ll get my insides all twisted up if I think about it. I can’t handle the worrying. Marcus worked with A.J. and the guys, and he . . .”
Didn’t come home. Which meant it could happen to A.J.
To Chris. And when Rory had overheard Chris’s conversation with Roman and Finn in the garage on Sunday, when they’d been discussing a human trafficker in El Salvador, her heart had taken a rapid dive.
Deep, deep down. No twin tanks to breathe beneath the surface.
Almost feeling as though she’d suffered the bends—decompression sickness.
What were the odds Roman and Finn had been referring to Santiago? That Chris’s company had been chosen to grab him two months after she’d been on the man’s property in the summer?
Why would a team of private security guys end up taking down an international criminal like Santiago? Unless . . .
Did Chris lie to her? Was he really doing the CIA’s bidding?
“I lost you again.” Ella’s words pulled Rory out of her head. “Deep in thought?”
“Yeah, sorry.” She pinned her back to the leather couch.
It was a bit lumpy and not all that comfortable.
Part of her wanted to phone A.J.’s mom to rescue this house—one FaceTime with Deb, and she’d get herself on the next plane.
Give it a little love and turn it into the warm and cozy home she knew it had the potential to be.
“So, what attracts you the most to Chris? Physically speaking. I know he’s an animal-lover and funny, but if you were the type of woman to have a wish list of physical attributes in a guy, and no worries, I know you’re not—but what would they be?”
“Why are you asking this?” Rory looked behind her to ensure Chris hadn’t come home. She didn’t need another repeat of him overhearing how hot she thought he was.
Ideas of their bodies pressed together, sans clothes, crossed her mind not only during those shirt-coming-off moments but far too often since she’d been in Virginia. And the mere thought of that man’s piercing blue eyes on her body was enough to get her hot and bothered, even now.
“I need to live vicariously through you. So, come on. Spill.” Ella propped her chin in her palm, holding the phone out far enough so Rory could see her.
Rory peeked at Bear, who was back asleep and softly snoring. “I’m a woman. He’s a man. A hot, gorgeous man. That’s it. And normally, I’d see no problem with two consenting adults enjoying each other’s bodies.”
“But this time isn’t normal?”
Rory sucked in her bottom lip, not sure what to admit.
Or what she was even feeling. “When his hand brushes against mine. Or our bodies accidentally touch. When he tosses unexpected Nietzsche quotes my way.” She closed her eyes and thought back to earlier that day.
They’d gone for Bear’s leash at the same time, and his hand wound up covering hers.
They’d turned to look at each other, and she’d been frozen in the moment.
Such a small moment that shouldn’t have had her stomach banding tight, but it did.
“I’m just horny,” she lied through her teeth, knowing full well her best friend would know that, but she wasn’t prepared to verbalize her thoughts just yet.
“And like you said, I don’t want to hurt the guy by having casual sex when that’s all I can offer. ”
“Remind me why that’s all you have to offer?
” Ella’s hand left her chin, and she stood.
She was giving Rory her signature sixth-grade-teacher stare, the one used to get her students to confess to their sins.
Clearly, it worked because Rory felt like a twelve-year-old again wanting to spill the truth.
But her truth was dangerous, and she’d never let anything happen to her best friend, which meant her secrets were hers to keep.
“Ella,” she started, but then flinched at the sound of the back door shutting. “He’s home,” she whispered. “Talk to you tomorrow.”
Rory twisted around to see Chris entering the living room after tossing his keys on the counter that served as a partial divider between the two rooms. The man looked downright delectable in dark denim and a button-down, white collared shirt.
Sleeves to the elbows to show his corded forearms. A thick black watch on his left wrist.
Her eyes went to the pink, ribbed tank top she was wearing. A few pieces of popcorn clung to it, but she’d remembered to leave on her bra. Bonus points for her.
She quickly cleaned herself up and carefully shifted Bear’s head off her lap so she could stand.
Chris’s gaze slowly moved from her bare feet up and over her pink and black plaid cotton pajama pants before working his eyes to her face. “Those are new.”
She had only three pairs of casual cotton pajamas, and she’d need to rotate between them. She couldn’t exactly strut around in sexy numbers, not that she owned many.
He smiled, then his focus whipped to the TV screen, and his body tensed.
Shit. She hurried for the remote as if he’d caught her watching porn instead of a war movie, and fumbled with it, accidentally hitting play. A loud explosion erupted from the TV, which had Bear hopping off the couch in alarm. “Sorry,” she rushed out, finally turning off the TV.
After she calmed Bear down and urged him back on the couch, she looked up to see Chris still frozen in place, jaw clenched beneath his trimmed beard.