Finders Keepers

Chapter 6

Olivia’s mantra today was peace and calm.

She’d been mentally repeating it to herself all day. Now she was sitting alone, incorporating the chant, breathing in and out through her nose, syncopated with the words. Almost a week ago, after Sloan had gotten her home, shaken and limp with exhaustion after what she’d been through at her inherited house, she’d meditated that night with discerning. It could have been substituted with sympathetic or generous, maybe even forgiving. She belatedly considered either would have been a better…fairer…attribute to Sloan. She would not have been able to sleep without the forty minutes of mindfulness she’d learned years before to incorporate into her routine. And ever since that afternoon, Olivia had lived with not thoughts of some kind of retaliation against Sloan but remorse.

She’d treated him badly.

It was mostly quiet in the corridors outside the empty and darkened gym because the students were in the last class of the day. Olivia sat on the third row of the bleachers, forward almost to the edge, with her back straight and her hands resting on her thighs. She tried very hard to remain focused on her breathing, the cornerstone of not thinking, of emptying her thoughts so that she could center. But her thoughts continually brought her back to the awful encounter and the things she’d accused Sloan of. And Olivia’s stomach tightened and spasmed with her regrettable behavior.

What she wanted to do now was apologize.

To set things right.

But there was resistance. She didn’t need to be forgiven. She wanted to be understood. And she wasn’t sure she could have it both ways. And what was Sloan feeling, if anything? Or had he written her off as a difficult case he was well rid of?

Did it matter to him how they’d parted at their last meeting?

When her smartphone quietly chimed, as she’d set it, Olivia finished her very private meditation session. She returned to her office just as the last class of the day was ending, and the students, as was the protocol, were escorted to the exits by their homeroom teachers and dismissed. This ensured that all students had left the building and the doors could be officially locked for the day.

“You’re still here?” Lori asked, surprised when she saw that Olivia was still in her office, slowly gathering her belongings to leave.

“I’m finishing up. I’ll leave in a few minutes.”

Lori hesitate. “Is everything okay?”

Olivia glanced at her with a quiet and vague smile. “Yes, of course. I’ll see you in the morning. Bye, Lori.”

Lori accepted her farewell and continued on her way.

Olivia sat staring into space. She knew she needed to call Sloan. She knew she wanted to. As much for herself as, hopefully, for him. Her angry, historic racial reference made perfect sense to her. It was inappropriate and unfair that Sloan would immediately understand that reference. Why should he be held accountable for so much institutionalized arrogance and ignorance?

But Olivia’s stomach clenched even tighter as she took a deep breath, exhaled, and called him. As a precaution, she used his office number, not his personal cell. They still really didn’t know one another. Their last face-to-face notwithstanding, it didn’t mean she wasn’t interested in some kind of outreach between them. But it had to come from her.

“Agent Kendrick. How can I help you?”

The sound of his voice, deep, scratchy, and very officious, threw her. She didn’t recognize it. Olivia swallowed and pulled herself together.

“H-hi. It’s Olivia.”

Silence. She gripped her handset.

“Ms. Cameron. What can I do for you?”

Olivia closed her eyes briefly. This was going to be hard.

Ms. Cameron?

“Thank you for not hanging up on me.”

Silence.

“There’s no reason for me to do that. Did you really believe I’d do that?”

“I…wasn’t sure. After what hap—”

“Is this about your case?”

Olivia frowned. He was throwing shade at her, not letting her go there…to what had happened. What she’d accused him of.

“Not really. But…I…I did get an official letter from a Lieutenant Gary Anderson.”

“Right. He’s the lead LAPD officer on the investigation.”

“Oh. But I thought you were in charge?”

“Not anymore. I asked to be pulled. It was clear that FBI input was no longer needed.”

“Oh,” Olivia said again, suddenly experiencing not only confusion but unexpected disappointment. Had that happened before or after their ill-fated last meeting?

More silence. Sloan was not giving her anything. It had been a mistake to call…

“I know the contents of the letter by the way.” Sloan broke into her thoughts. “You’ve been cleared. Nothing to worry about going forward.”

“I was never worried,” she said with a small show of confidence and resolve. Her voice was firm.

“Good.”

“I think you were very decent and…and honest in how you treated me. I have no complaints.”

Silence.

“I appreciate that.”

Olivia took another deep breath. “I can write a letter of commendation if you like? Do agents need that kind of affirmation?” She attempted a little levity.

“No need, but thank you.”

“Sloan?” Olivia couldn’t help the slight plaintive question that saying his name produced. When he didn’t respond, she went quickly on, getting, finally, to her point. “I didn’t call about the letter. I called because—”

“No need for explanations either. I think—”

“Don’t think,” Olivia interrupted coolly, weary of his placating, indifferent tone. She couldn’t have been totally mistaken in what she sensed had been their almost instant compatibility. It felt instinctive. Natural. Scary but real. “What I said… I didn’t mean… It wasn’t about you.”

“I believe I figured that out. Still…”

“Yes, there is still. I was very unfair. I’m so…so sorry that I made you the target of my own insecurity. My own history. What I said was not about you.”

Silence. And then she thought she heard a drawn-out sigh. She frowned, listening closely.

“I appreciate you telling me that,” Sloan said quietly but still very formal.

Olivia waited for him to say more, any indication that he was not going to hold her unfortunate misplaced vitriol against him. Nothing.

Olivia gave up, worn-out by knowing she had to make this call to him, with no recognition that it would make a difference. Worn-out with the private admission that she wanted it to. But she was not going to plead or apologize again.

“I knew that I owed you that. I’m a little late…and a dollar short, but…the truth is, you did rescue me.”

When the silence again stretched, Olivia was about to just hang up. And then he spoke. And there was no question that the flat, controlled cadence of his voice had suddenly mellowed.

“I’m glad I was there to help.”

“One more thing,” she began, her own voice softening. “It’s still Olivia.”

She waited a heartbeat and then ended the call.

Sloan stood with the two agents from his office who’d been on a local case for well over two years. The repeat robberies had now established a pattern that could be tracked. It wasn’t his case or his department’s, but he’d always thought it a good idea to be aware of what the field office was handling. Cooperation among the various sectors was key to solving a lot of their caseload. This particular ongoing crime, a series of local, small bank holdups, was more about a clever, persistent, and cocky thief who’d managed to continue operating despite the agents’ best-known information to corner and apprehend him and his partner.

But the leader, the object of their pursuit, was the primary target. He’d broadened his target from strip mall banks to bigger branches in small towns to businesses that garnered thousands of dollars in a week. His latest feat was managing to intercept an armored car drop. This was a first and showed a distinct change in target. The suspect’s new and bigger focus meant he and his partner were becoming bolder and more unpredictable. What had also been added was a level of violence—to tellers, shopkeepers, and customers—that made Sloan’s office more determined to take him out of commission before his next step could end someone’s life.

The signals on the police radios and car had pretty much traced the latest incident but, again, not before the two suspects had eluded capture, managing to stay two steps ahead of law enforcement. Police had actually cornered the two perps in a specific neighborhood, the abandoned getaway car hastily exchanged for another stolen vehicle. That move had apparently happened so fast that some of their gains had also been abandoned, a bag of money spilling all over the back seat and floor of the first car. They were rushed. They were getting careless.

“We have a chopper coming in. There’s more data on this part of town. They’re most likely trying to disappear into the community.”

“Where?” Sloan simply asked over his radio. But his question was not only specific to the case and most recent holdup; it narrowed down the locale of the perpetrators to within a mile and a half of where Olivia lived. The answer came back clear and definitive. There had already been two calls to local police about strange men rushing through yards, patios, and pool decks, zigzagging between houses. At one point, the two men quickly separated, running off in different directions. Each was wearing a backpack, no doubt containing the loot from that day’s heist. They’d been smart enough to keep it small, making it easier for them to move without the burden of heavy loads.

Sloan could hear the helicopter overhead targeting the neighborhood and making a low sweep with searchlights and heat sensors to pick up the perpetrators in the dark as they maneuvered their way to escape and safety. He turned away from the communications buzz and approached several officers and commanders from local jurisdictions.

“You don’t need me here. I’m stepping back, but keep me informed about the pursuit. Are you guys still sure about the general direction of their movements?”

“For now,” an officer responded before turning to more information coming over his radio. “They’ve split up, so we might have to make a decision about which one to fix on.”

“Do you know if at least one of them is still heading into and around Baldwin Hills?” Sloan asked.

“So far, looks that way. One of them seems familiar with the neighborhood, so we might not get him. He’ll probably know how to get outside the perimeter of the neighborhood before we can figure it out.”

“Is there an officer nearby to canvass the neighborhood and warn the residents?”

“Not sure on that. I’ll check.”

But Sloan had already made his decision. His involvement in the official pursuit was purely self-interest at that point. Olivia lived in Baldwin Hills. And as much as he knew the criminal pursuit was the most important focus, his concern for her was natural and unavoidable. While Sloan didn’t imagine her in any imminent danger, he was concerned enough not to leave it at that but to let the LAPD officers, and agents from his field office, do their work.

Sloan sat for a moment in his car debating the wisdom of going to Olivia’s to let her know what was going on, but in a way that didn’t scare her. Also it was an excuse to see her again. To see if his last impression and anything about the conversation they’d had remained the same. Then he’d know for sure if he had to completely back off and move on.

He wasn’t that far away, but all the way to her block, he could hear the chopper blades, allowing him to gauge how far away they were from Olivia’s house. He drove slowly to the property, carefully scanning the streets and noticing which homes had outdoor entrance lights and which didn’t. Olivia’s was well illuminated. He parked, turned off his lights, and sat silently glancing through the windshield. There were one or two people getting home from work. Several teens on bikes or skateboards. People walking their dogs, occasionally looking up in the night sky at the helicopter hovering over their neighborhood and the obvious searchlight spreading over them. Tensing his jaw muscles, pursing his mouth, Sloan got out of the car and made his way to the front door of Olivia’s house. Halfway there he became aware of voices, a conversation, coming from the side or back of the property. He changed directions and headed toward the back. A high gate was partially open, and distinct female laughter wafted out to him. It was suddenly joined by the yapping of a small dog. Sloan knocked firmly on the door and slowly began to push it open. A dog approached and sniffed at his shoes, looked up at him, and retreated back to creep beneath the safety of a chair. Silence immediately followed. The yard was illuminated with lights and candles.

Sloan was annoyed with how nervous he suddenly felt. Annoyed that there was someone who could make him feel that way. He stepped inside to find four pair of eyes watching his entrance. But he narrowed in on the pair that mattered the most.

He had not seen Olivia in well over two weeks. But they’d spoken by phone, her call to him that he’d not been expecting. Afterward, he’d had to admit to both gratitude and surprised relief that Olivia had made the first move in trying to close the distance that had been created between them. No, it had not been his fault that it had happened, but he had still been profoundly unsettled with how it had ripped up blossoming expectations.

Sloan could only take several seconds to appraise the wide-eyed incredulity in Olivia’s dark eyes as she stood abruptly and stared back at him. But he also suspected that if there had been no awkward phone conversation just a few days ago, this moment would not have been possible.

Olivia came instantly to her feet, recognizing Sloan. Although he seemed to be casually dressed, it was very clear to her he was dressed for work. His gaze quickly swept across the yard before focusing on her. He didn’t smile or acknowledge her in any way. Except for the personal signal that unerringly passed between them, that made Olivia’s throat dry and her stomach clench tightly. She was riveted by the intensity of his gaze without being able to read anything into it.

“Hi,” she said clearly, but she knew that all three of the women seated around the table prepared for a meal noticed the surprise in her voice. Was her simple hi too personal?

“Sorry to interrupt,” Sloan said, finally moving his attention from her to the other women.

His voice and tone were authoritative and deep. He held his arms so that the presence of his gun was not obvious, although the navy-blue windbreaker with prominent yellow letters on the upper sleeves, breast, and back of the jacket definitively ID’d who he was and from where.

“I’m Agent Kendrick…with the FBI LA field office.”

“FBI? Are we doing something illegal? Is Chardonnay now contraband in LA?” Lynn asked bluntly, her tone adversarial.

Olivia shot her combative friend a look, trying to tamp down Lynn’s tendency toward in-your-face squaring off. Attack first, ask questions later. Olivia stepped toward Sloan and caught his gaze again.

“I’m Olivia Cameron. I live here,” she interjected quickly, and could see that Sloan read her message.

He nodded. “Ms. Cameron, I don’t want to scare you…or your guests, but we have a situation nearby, and there are officers moving through your neighborhood.”

“Are they chasing someone?” Mallory, the comfortably chubby female of the four women, asked, peering owl-like through her glasses. She had a hand dangling to her side to allow the dog beneath her chair to be petted and lick her fingers. “Oh my God…”

Of all the girlfriends, Mallory was the one most inclined to see a worst-case scenario in any situation.

“I hear a helicopter,” Tessa said without concern, briefly turning her attention toward the twilight sky to track the sounds. She raised her brows at Olivia.

“Helicopter?” Mallory asked. “That means you’re looking for someone who’s… Is he…dangerous?” she directed to Sloan.

“Mallory, please. Calm down,” Olivia soothed.

“You’re not in any danger,” Sloan said, “but I wanted to make sure everyone has been alerted. As a precaution, I suggest you close and lock this gate.”

“Should we move inside?” Olivia asked him. He looked at her, and she could see his jaw tense.

“I think that’s best. LAPD has this. Our suspects are not looking to draw any attention, but you don’t want to give them any opportunities.”

“Them?” Mallory asked, alarmed.

“Two possible suspects.”

“Have they done something violent? Hurt people?” Lynn questioned.

“No, ma’am. We’re talking bank robbers. They haven’t hurt anyone yet.”

“Well, I don’t want to set a precedent by being the first,” Lynn declared, standing.

“Of course not. Tessa, Lynn, could you please start moving everything inside?”

The women moved to do her bidding, but she could see that Lynn was still very curious about Sloan’s appearance, and she studied him with a suspicion bordering on hostility. She was naturally suspicious, and Olivia didn’t want to turn the moment into dealing with her.

“I’m going to walk the agent back to the front. I’ll come in through the front door. One of you let me in.”

“I’ll do it,” Mallory volunteered, scooping up her pet and holding it to her bosom as if it might be snatched from her at any moment.

Sloan retreated through the gate, and Olivia was right behind him. She could hear one of the ladies bolting the gate shut. Sloan stopped and turned to face her in the close space of the driveway, a thick wall of shrubbery on one side. Olivia studied him, looking to see if anything had changed since they were last together. She’d not stopped reliving that afternoon with Sloan, ending in his withdrawal. Something had happened, and she knew the responsibility for the tension was on her. Having let loose the death grip she’d had for a long time on her emotions, Olivia didn’t want to retreat. She wanted to see where it…and Sloan…might lead her. Seeing him now, right in front of her, made her instantly grateful that she’d taken the risk of reaching out to him first. Not so much to apologize but to thank him. That was certainly in order. She was so glad she’d put her ego and stubbornness aside to close the gap between them.

She believed, now more than ever, that there was something happening far more than casual acquaintance. Olivia had accepted that since that house incident and its emotional aftermath, everything was different. While it was confusing, it was also exciting to imagine she might be on the precipice of something new and thrilling. Might that be Sloan?

To Olivia it didn’t matter that this new whatever had happened so fast.

“Sloan?”

“Yeah?” he responded after a moment’s hesitation. He regarded her. In the twilight, she was losing all definition of his features, except for his eyes and his mouth.

The gravelly texture of his voice, the low, throaty growl, was now familiar and so intriguing. So innately part of him.

“Are you still very upset with me?”

He sighed deeply, briefly averted his gaze, and looked back to her. “I was not upset with you.” He gestured with a hand, shifted from one foot to the other. “Maybe a little bit. I was just… I didn’t know what was going on with you. When you called me, it threw me. Frankly, I wasn’t thinking I’d hear from you again.”

“I knew I had to call. I felt it was all on me.”

“Well…I’m glad you did…Olivia.”

She gave him a tentative smile and then became serious again. “You didn’t have to come to warn me about what’s going on tonight. Why did you?”

“To make sure you knew about our suspect. There wasn’t much time to alert the community.”

She slowly shook her head. “I…don’t believe you. You could have sent an officer. You came.”

There was a thick silence that seemed to cocoon them, shutting out everything around them, including the receding whirl of helicopter blades as the craft disappeared into the distance.

“Is there something…else?”

“Why would there be?” he asked, almost frowning at her.

“Because…” She took a step closer. “Because…you kissed me. That day. Suddenly. I haven’t forgotten that.”

He faced her, leaning slightly toward her. “You kissed me back.”

Olivia felt a distinct ripple race up her spine. “I did. I’m not sorry.”

There. Now it was out. An admission. Her voice was barely a whisper as she searched his expression.

“Are you sure?” Sloan asked.

“Don’t you believe me?”

He shifted. Sighed. “You told me…you didn’t need a savior. I understood perfectly what you were saying.”

Olivia blinked, shook her head. “I think I was in shock.”

“Once or twice, you kept calling me Marcus. Your ex?”

“Marcus? If he thought someone was being condescending. He was, maybe, overly sensitive to that. Black men sometimes are.”

“Believe it or not, I think I get it,” Sloan responded, staring at her.

Olivia frowned. “It’s…complicated.” Then she looked at him, this time with a small smile of regret. “I lost my pin. The one you gave me.”

“Don’t worry about it. I can replace it for you. If you want.”

“Yes, I want.”

She imagined that there was a slight shift in his demeanor, no longer stiff and formal.

“There was something else I had to tell you. After my report was done. It’s one of the reasons I came looking for you at the school that day.”

“What?”

“The money is yours, Liv. All of it.”

Her eyes widened, and she blinked.

“OLIVIA! Where are you?”

Tessa shouting her name made Olivia start. “Yes! Coming!” she shouted back. She remained focused on Sloan, who was watching her reaction. “You mean…I…”

“You can call yourself a millionaire, if that means anything.”

“Is it really a million dollars?”

“It is,” Sloan confirmed.

His radio began to scratch with an incoming message. Olivia couldn’t understand anything that was said, but Sloan answered quickly, turning down the volume button. He gave her a sideways glance, almost playful. “Your assignment, should you decide to accept, is to make a list of what you’d spend all that money on.”

“Do I thank you for that too?”

“Not really. I just advised that I didn’t think it was worth pursuing the origin of the money. LAPD was fine with you keeping it. Worthy recipient…”

“What makes me worthy?” she asked, curious.

“When you found the money, you immediately turned it in. You’re a professional African American woman of good standing in the community…and you’re ethical. Put that all together and it spells good PR for the department. But I don’t think they’ll advertise what happened in your situation. People will get ideas.”

Olivia sighed, pursed her lips.

“Aren’t you glad about the outcome?” Sloan asked.

“I don’t know. I really didn’t do anything to earn it.”

“Then it’s an even nicer surprise, right?”

“If you say so,” she said, doubt making her overthink what she should feel.

“I say so,” Sloan answered quietly but firmly.

His radio squawked again. He responded just as briefly as before but then continued walking to the front of the property and his parked car.

“Sloan?” He turned to her. “You called me Liv.”

He searched her features, as indistinct in the twilight as were his. They only had one another’s voice to go on. “Yeah…I guess I did. You remember a lot from that day.”

“It was memorable,” Olivia confessed quietly. And then she detected a gesture, a movement of his head. Familiar. And the way she felt Sloan now regarding her. “Didn’t you want it to be?”

“I hadn’t thought about it. I hadn’t planned what happened. I just…wanted to kiss you. Liv? I don’t know. I guess…Olivia has too many syllables.”

Olivia gave him one of her signature quiet smiles. She hoped he could see it.

“I didn’t think we could get past that day. What was said. What I heard…or thought I heard.” His voice was a bare rough whisper, as if to make sure only she could hear.

“You want to know what I think?”

He remained still. He was leaving it up to her.

“I don’t think we should overanalyze or give up.” She shook her head. “I’m not a quitter. I want to know…”

“…what happens,” Sloan finished.

“Or not.”

It was almost dark now. There was no light along the pathway between the backyard and the front. Olivia, without thought, reached out, searching for his hand. Sloan didn’t help her, remaining unresponsive and still until their fingers touched and hooked loosely together.

“Is this a mea culpa?”

She almost shyly averted her gaze, displaying a vague smile. “Let’s not call it anything. Let’s…”

“Maybe…wait and see?” Sloan suggested.

“I think that’s a good idea. I’m glad you thought of it.”

If Olivia expected him to smile or grin or have a reaction, she could see he didn’t. But Sloan did briefly squeeze her fingers.

It was a small, encouraging sign.

“Are you coming to Sports Saturday?” she asked instead.

“Is that still an invitation?”

“Yes.”

“I…haven’t decided yet.”

Maybe, she interpreted, and had to be satisfied with that.

“Olivia?” a peeved voice shouted from the front of the house.

“I have to go. They’re going to have a lot of questions.”

“What are you going to tell your girlfriends?”

“That the kind agent just wanted to make sure we were safe.”

“The agent wanted to make sure you were safe,” he corrected boldly.

“Rescuing me again?”

“I’ll let you figure that out,” Sloan said in a low voice. He tightly squeezed their entwined fingers, then let them drift apart. He continued walking to his car.

Sloan kept his gaze on her as he started the engine, waited a second longer as their gazes held before he slowly accelerated and drove away.

When Olivia walked back into her house, the girlfriends were standing around idly waiting for her. For a moment she wondered if any of them had eavesdropped on her tête-à-tête with Sloan outside the house.

“I’m so sorry about that. It seems the suspects the police are looking for have quite a history. They both might have gotten away tonight.”

“Bullshit,” Lynn said bluntly, setting an open bottle of red wine on the table. “Know what I think? Robbery suspects were not the issue. I think you’ve been holding out on us, Olivia. Who the hell was that man?”

Olivia tried not to keep glancing toward the parking lot, looking for Sloan or his car. She was never expected to attend the Saturday programs, but she always felt obligated to. The concept was hers, and so was the responsibility. If anything happened to one of the students or even staff, she would bear the consequence. It was only a three-hour event, scheduled so that everyone still had part of the day to do other things. It also gave her an excuse to put off any of the respondents to her dating website profile who wanted a coffee hookup as an introduction. Olivia suspected her finding official things to take care of was much more than finding the whole process of digital dating distasteful. She was also very afraid of not coming off as sharp, witty, attractive, desirable, sexy—had she left anything out?

Determined, yet again, not to scan the parking area, she opened the large cooler she’d packed with rations for lunch knowing that the students would never stoop to making lunch for themselves, settling, instead, on stopping at any of the convenience stores near the park for unhealthy snacks and sodas. Sandwiches were simple and easy to provide, with a side of potato salad or chips. She reached into a second tote and began to unload the napkins and disposable cutlery.

“Hi.”

Olivia heard the greeting but didn’t think she was being addressed. It was a child’s voice.

“Hi.”

She turned and found a boy holding a baseball bat in one hand and a soccer ball in the other. His handsome brown face was half-hidden under a baseball cap a little too big for his head. His teeth gleamed with braces.

“Hi.” Olivia finally reacted with a questioning smile. The youngster glanced back over his shoulder, and she followed his gaze. Bringing up the rear was Sloan, a small tote over his shoulder.

She acknowledged her physical response to his sudden appearance, having given up any pretense that she felt nothing being near him. It was now routine, the sensations of attraction, feelings having locked themselves in as early as the first time they’d met and as recently as the afternoon he’d stopped by her house early one evening under the pretense of warning her about the bank robbers. Olivia was still in the what-does-this-mean stage but was now pretty sure that Sloan was definitely going to be a factor in the answer.

His stride was comfortable and leisurely, confident. He was wearing khaki slacks and a charcoal T-shirt that fit smoothly across his torso. He also wore a baseball cap, but not the dark-blue one with the yellow FBI letters on the front. And he wore impenetrable dark glasses, giving him the decidedly masculine and handsome appearance of someone with authority. Olivia briefly averted her gaze, again physically affected by his presence.

She couldn’t let him see or know that.

Olivia took a deep inhale and looked up as he approached, giving him a slight smile. Neither of them spoke as Sloan stopped, standing on the other side of a picnic table from her. She knew now from experience that he kept his expression neutral. She thought that maybe he’d been trained to do that, to keep himself at a distance. Maybe it made him more effective at his job. Did he ever smile?

The little boy turned to speak to Sloan, and he gave his full attention to the youngster, nodding at his inquiry. Sloan put an arm around his shoulders, making him look again directly at her.

“This is Cooper. You said it was okay for me to bring someone so…Cooper, this is Ms. Cameron. She’s in charge of the school where that all these students attend.” He indicated the fifty or so students already engaged on different fields in different sports…except basketball. There was no court provided.

“Not a problem at all. Hi, Cooper. I’m glad you could come today.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” he said in a proper, well-mannered voice.

Olivia was charmed. She became the teacher. “You like sports? There’s a lot going on and a lot to choose from.”

Cooper glanced back to the many busy fields, squinting against the bright fall sun. “I like soccer. That’s my favorite.”

“Wonderful. You’re welcome to join in. There’s a coach on the field. Go over and introduce yourself.”

“Okay,” he said. He leaned his baseball bat against a bench and immediately turned to jog to the soccer field.

“I’ll walk him over. Be right back,” Sloan said, following to catch up to the boy.

Olivia watched them, observing that Cooper was energetic and chatty, saying something to the boys already in practice who beckoned for him to join. The coach blew a whistle for attention and shouted for Cooper to throw his soccer ball to him. The coach set it on the ground at his feet, and the boys went back to practice. Sloan approached the coach, and the two men shook hands and stood talking for a moment or two. Sloan stood watching the practice until Cooper settled into the warm-up routine with the older boys. Sloan then made his way back to join her.

She quickly became busy, pretending not to have witnessed the exchange, while realizing that she and Sloan were now going to be alone. She was calm and collected, or tried to be, as she organized the details for lunch, denying that her internal tension was directly related to the way he’d kissed her. That had not been far from Olivia’s mind since it happened—how Sloan had kissed her and exactly how it made her feel. A little flushed. Very lightheaded, somewhat breathless. She had been the one to end the kiss abruptly, but she couldn’t quite recall why.

It didn’t help that Sloan apparently felt no need to break the ice between them, get that first sentence out that would have put her at ease. Olivia knew she was on the verge of accepting the hard truth. She was in trouble. Every nerve in her body, her sensibility, told her so.

It was very scary.

Olivia finally glanced at Sloan, favoring him with one of her habitual smiles. Belatedly she wished she’d thought to wear dark glasses as well. She pointed to the tote he was carrying.

“Did you bring lunch?”

Sloan pursed his lips and briefly shook his head. He set the bag down next to Cooper’s baseball bat. “Never even thought of it. The bag holds his clothes and things from last night. He stayed with me. I picked him up, took him to dinner…”

“In-N-Out Burger?” Olivia guessed with a knowing grin.

“That’s right. His mom is on a parental campaign against junk food so when he’s with me I sneak it in under the radar.”

Olivia’s grin broadened and she laughed quietly. “I bet Cooper loves hanging out with you.”

Sloan nodded. “We get along.”

She began to relax a bit, thinking the brief exchange went a long way to easing any last constraints between them. Olivia was not going to bring the subject up again, but she imagined that the last incident between them still hung in the air.

“Gun,” she suddenly said. A question was implied in the one bold word.

Sloan slipped his hands into the front pockets of his slacks. “Home.” He braced a foot on the edge of the bench and calmly regarded her. “You’re a very unusual school director,” he murmured.

She heard much more in the cadence of his quiet comment. Sloan’s interest and observation made her smile again.

“Harvest is a very unusual school. The students are somewhere between real potential and other people’s expectations. I guess I feel the responsibility to make sure the expectations don’t sabotage them. There’s a lot of budding brilliance with some of them, but I know not all of Harvest’s kids will reach the stars. Some of them have defeat built into family DNA. Dysfunction, emotional and mental, and troubles beyond their knowledge or control. School can’t always overcome that.”

“But you’re still planning on building a staircase to the stars so that they all can at least try.”

Olivia gave him a brief glance. “That’s right. That’s what all schools should be doing.” With nothing else to distract her nervous hands, she stopped and sat at the end of the bench. He took her lead and sat facing her across the table.

“I’m glad you could make it today.” She felt a bit shy with the confession.

“I wanted to be here,” he responded, his tone serious.

She regarded him thoughtfully before visibly relaxing even more. “Okay,” she sighed.

“Okay,” Sloan repeated with a nod.

She took a deep breath. “Tell me about Cooper. He’s such a cute youngster.”

“On behalf of his parents, I thank you.”

“And…how do you know Cooper? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I was counting on it.” Sloan slowly pushed his dark glasses above his forehead so that their gazes were unimpeded. He clasped his hands together and openly regarded her. “He’s my godson.”

“Oh.”

Olivia saw that Sloan was waiting for her to say more or ask another question, as if he was prepared to answer them all. She knew this was the kind of moment when secrets might be revealed, a history exposed, truths would come out.

“What?” he questioned quietly, prompting her when she remained quiet.

Olivia stared into his eyes. That first moment when they’d met, it had startled her to see Sloan Kendrick had light-blue eyes, like topaz. He’d stood before her the prototypical white American male. That she’d been drawn to him seemed an affront, a betrayal. But now…Now the fact was inconsequential, irrelevant. There were other things about Sloan that took precedent…and were far more appealing.

“How did he come to be your godson?”

“I served with his father in the Middle East. I was in the intelligence unit, and Boyd was a copter pilot. He flew or escorted brass to summits, reconnaissance, or to meet with village leaders, oftentimes with me along. I worked closely with a few of the commanders, analyzing intel. Boyd and I were the only West Coast officers in the unit serving at the time.

“Friendships between the soldiers sometimes came down to where you were from. Boyd was from Oakland. Sometimes I’d do a favor for him…a bit outside the rules. He’d do the same for me, chauffeuring me by air somewhere when I wanted to get away from base and command. He was kind of exuberant and outgoing.

“People, even villagers who were naturally suspicious, grew to like him. I kept him out of a mess of trouble that might have resulted in disciplinary action. He was finally due to ship back home and be discharged…and his wife was pregnant, the result of his quick furlough stateside. He asked me to be godfather. I didn’t think it would actually happen, so I said sure.”

Sloan stopped, but Olivia knew by his expression and sudden hesitation that there was more to the story. She gave no reaction, forcing him to continue.

“His copter went down just outside the northernmost region of Kabul while returning to base with three senior officers. They were all seriously injured. Boyd and one of the officers died. Not shot down by enemy fire or anything like that. Equipment failure. I guess you could call it the equivalent of friendly fire.”

Sloan was suddenly reflective, looking down at the table, his brows furrowed. And then he went quickly on. “I was already back home myself when I got a letter from Boyd’s widow, Carol. She had a boy. She wanted to honor her late husband’s request that I be godfather. And that’s what happened. Cooper was a year old when I first met them. Carol remarried, but Cooper and I bonded. I wanted to be true to his father’s request. The family lives in Pasadena. When Cooper visits with me, and it’s not that often, I pick him up at home and he stays over with me.”

“I’m sorry about the loss. You obviously take the relationship and responsibility with Cooper seriously.”

He shrugged. “Boyd was a great guy.”

“Where are you from originally?” Olivia suddenly asked, curious.

“Oregon.”

“Oregon,” she whispered with genuine surprise and awe, and openly stared at him.

“It’s not outer space, you know. Still on the third planet from the sun,” Sloan reminded her without expression.

She smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone from Oregon.”

“Now you have,” Sloan said, starting to rise from the bench and glancing behind her. He shifted his sunglasses back over his eyes. “There’s a stampede headed this way.”

“I guess it’s time for lunch.” She searched the students until she found Cooper. He was younger and smaller than her teens, and she wanted to make sure he wasn’t forgotten or left behind.

Olivia had to settle for mentally putting aside everything Sloan had shared. But his story and some history had only created more questions and heightened her curiosity about him. She stole a glance at him as he stood chatting with his very excited godson who wanted to let him know he’d scored a goal in the soccer game warm-up. Olivia grinned to herself. She would not be surprised if the older boys had somehow made it easy for him to do so.

Sloan gave Cooper his complete attention despite the chaos around them as the students staked out places at the picnic tables. There were two who had attended the academy, and they greeted Sloan as if he was now their good friend. There were no girls present, and Olivia always considered that fact her own failure, that she couldn’t persuade any of the girls to at least come out for the day. As before, Sloan maintained an adult and professional distance with the students. He was not at all unfriendly, but Olivia realized that his job simply didn’t allow for him to let his guard down.

But he’d certainly done so with her. It gave her a boost to recognize that. She was different to him, perhaps, and Olivia found that encouraging. She opened the cooler and stepped back as the boys, more or less, formed a line to pick a sandwich, get a paper plate, napkin, and eating utensils. They took their places at the tables to eat while the three adult coaches distributed juice or water, bags of chips.

Sloan held Cooper back until the older students had made their selections and settled down to eat and then let Cooper do the same. He was not shy about squeezing himself in with the bigger boys, who by now were treating Cooper like a favorite little brother. Olivia was glad she never had to ask them to be nice to the young boy. When the excitement had died down and the students were eating, she turned to Sloan.

At that moment, he was sitting bent over his smartphone, reading what seemed like a lengthy message. Then he stood and sauntered away from everyone as he placed a call and quietly talked. After nearly ten minutes, Sloan made his way back to the table, casually observing the talk and laughter of the teens spread out around him.

“There are more sandwiches,” Olivia said, turning the cooler so Sloan could peer inside and choose something. He reached in and pulled out a small rectangular box with a colorful graphic illustration on the lid of an orange cut in half.

“What’s this?” he asked, examining the box from several angles.

“Oh…that’s a little potato salad and a few pieces of fried chicken…”

He released the clasp on the lid and opened the box. He glanced at her.

“We can share if you like. There’s enough there.”

“Great,” he responded simply.

Olivia set a paper plate for each of them and served the chicken and salad between them. She gave Sloan the bulk of the salad and left the last piece of chicken in case he wanted that as well. He politely thanked her, and they once again sat opposite each other at the table to eat.

“Homemade?” he asked, biting into a crisp thigh.

“With my very own hands,” she replied.

“I’m grateful for your many talents…Ms. Cameron.”

She winced but grinned slightly, passing disposable utensils and a napkin to him. And grateful that he, at least, remembered that this was not a private picnic but an off-site school event. He remembered the protocol in addressing her. But she couldn’t help also recalling the aloof and formal way he’d referred to her when she’d gotten the courage to call him, just a few days earlier, before he’d appeared at her home.

He was staring at her as he settled down to the lunch. Olivia was pleased that he seemed to be enjoying it.

“You have an extreme amount of concern for your students.”

“I know. Lori tells me all the time I need to dial it back. I can’t expect to teach them everything in the little amount of time I have with them at school. I’m fortunate to have some great teachers on board.”

“She’s right,” Sloan said, a very quiet sound emitting from the back of his throat, indicating his pleasure at the food. “You like to cook?” he asked.

“I do. I find it therapeutic. I prepare more than my fair share of the lunches for my circle of girlfriends.”

Sloan nodded, but he was concentrating on and clearly enjoying the chicken and salad.

Lunch was quick. Olivia reminded the kids to dispose of their trash and recyclables. They shouted thank you as they jogged back to whatever sport they were participating in. Cooper took up the rear, running after the bigger students to keep up. Olivia had to grin at his confidence. And she grinned at Sloan, at his presence, but he wasn’t paying attention. Without her asking or expecting it, he had already begun to gather the remains of the lunch, sorting out leftovers from trash and anything that could be saved for another time.

He lifted the cooler and a tote. “Where’s your car?”

“I’ll show you,” Olivia said, grabbing the last two bags and leading the way to her SUV. They loaded everything into the back.

“I’m not going to ask how you managed to bring all of this stuff by yourself.”

“I managed,” she boasted.

“Stubborn,” Sloan added smoothly.

She was about to close the raised door when Sloan stepped in front of her and stopped her. Olivia glanced at him, curious, just as Sloan bent toward her and planted a kiss on her mouth. Before she could respond—and she wanted to—he had pulled back to gaze into her eyes.

“I know you weren’t expecting that this time either,” Sloan said.

“No. I—”

Then he kissed her again. This time Sloan let her catch up to him. Gave her time to respond and participate. Let her enjoy the quiet, spontaneous moment that took them both to another place. But just as smoothly as it had begun, it was over. Olivia stared at Sloan, seeing the man she’d decided to let in and show what she was made of, that she might possibly care for.

Again, he paused.

Olivia stared at him, and he at her, silently coming to some sort of mutual decision about being together in public, about no longer being strangers.

“I think it’s a good idea not to rehash what happened. I don’t want to stay there.”

“I’m glad to hear you say so.”

He nodded, with a big but quiet sigh. “So. Are we starting over?”

Olivia shook her head. “I don’t think we need to go that far back, but…can we pick up where we left off?”

“I think we can make that work,” he replied, his voice a rough growl.

She knew Sloan was staring at her intently through the opaque, dark glasses.

She was happy to have him spend the day with the students, who seemed to now accept Sloan without further skepticism. Without knowing or working at it, Sloan had managed a place for himself that fit. And Olivia was more than happy to have him there with her.

“I’d ask you out later, when this is over,” Sloan began as they meandered their way back to the picnic area to wait out the rest of the afternoon. “I wanted to that afternoon the world blew up around the two of us. I thought there should be a celebration for getting the money from your house.”

“That’s nice of you,” Olivia admitted.

“That call I took…I have something to take care of later. After I get Cooper back home.” He glanced at her. “Rain check?”

“I’d like that.”

“Truce?” Sloan added.

She grinned at him. “Olive branch.”

For the first time since they’d met, Sloan almost smiled. Olivia took full credit.