Chapter 12
BEA
I’m not going to ask him again.
I’m not.
Indy said it’s fine. That it’s perfectly safe for Rhiannon and Hawk to stop by for a visit.
They’ve been in California for the last week, visiting Rhiannon’s parents, and were already planning on coming to Seattle for a few days before flying back home to Texas.
Originally, they were going to stay with Yara while they’re here.
But with Yara’s place full, Rhiannon and Hawk are staying at a nearby hotel instead.
Which I feel kind of guilty about, honestly.
“They don’t mind,” Indy assured me last night when I mentioned it. “Trust me. Rhi and Hawk are used to changing plans last minute.”
“But is it safe?” I asked for the first time of many. “If someone’s out there looking for me, what if it puts your friends in danger?”
“It won’t.” We were sitting out in the sunroom, snuggled up on the loveseat with a fuzzy blanket wrapped around us. Indy hugged me closer as he added, “Rhi and Hawk are more than capable of protecting themselves. If they’re not worried, and I’m not worried, you shouldn’t be, either.”
“But… if this guy knows I’m with you guys, and he makes the connection with Blade and Arrow…”
Indy turned to me, his expression serious.
“I would never do anything that would put you in danger, Bea. Ever. If this asshole did ping your location at HQ, he wouldn’t be able to connect it to Blade and Arrow Security.
When Cole bought the property, he made the purchase through a separate LLC.
And Leo, the tech guy at the Sleepy Hollow branch, made sure everything was completely anonymous. ”
I hated feeling so twisted up about it. I still do.
On one hand, I want to meet Indy’s former teammates. I want to see Indy with them, relaxed, joking, and reminiscing.
On the other… I can’t ignore the jittery feeling in my stomach that comes with yet another change to adjust to. Another new place to stay. More new people to meet. Another set of variables I have no control over.
It’s like a chaotic form of baking, in a sense. At the start, I had the exact ingredients I needed. And the recipe was for something predictable. Something I’d made so many times I could do it blindfolded.
But then another ingredient gets thrown into the mix. Something that doesn’t quite fit. And then another. And another. Until I’m trying to cobble together some crazy mish-mash of ingredients and hoping it won’t fall flat once I get it in the oven.
Well. Maybe that’s not the best metaphor. Because if I screw up a recipe, I can just make it over again. But if something goes wrong in this situation, the consequences could be much worse.
Stop catastrophizing, I keep reminding myself.
Indy knows what he’s doing. So does the rest of his team. And they have two other branches of highly-trained security experts to back them up. If any of them thought we shouldn’t be doing this, they would have said so.
Logic tells me there’s nothing to worry about.
But I’ve found that fear finds the most devious of hiding places. And it likes to lurk there, waiting to attack at the most unexpected and inconvenient times.
Like Indy’s friends coming to visit for a harmless night of pizza and games.
That niggling fear makes me want to ask for Indy’s reassurance again.
But pride keeps my mouth shut. Because I don’t want to ruin this for Indy. And I don’t want him to think I’m not the strong woman he seems to think I am.
“Bea.” Indy comes up behind me and rests his hand on the small of my back.
Then he kisses my cheek, his minty breath feathering across my skin.
He glances at the mirror hung above the dresser, his gaze roving across both our reflections.
Heat flares in his eyes. “I hope you’re not worrying about how you look.
Because you look beautiful. Just so you know. ”
I suppose it makes sense he’d think I’m worried about my appearance, given that I’ve been staring at myself in the mirror while Indy’s been waiting patiently for me.
He doesn’t know that my mind is spinning with what-ifs and not wondering if my new cornflower-blue dress makes my boobs look bigger than normal.
It doesn’t. For the record. My A-cups look just the same as they always do. But the scooped neckline does show off the tiniest hint of cleavage, which I tried to emphasize with some carefully applied bronzer.
Or—
My gaze dips to my neckline.
Did I use too much bronzer? Is it too shimmery? Do I look like a little kid who snuck into my mom’s makeup and ended up looking like a clown instead of a princess?
Augh.
Where did confident—okay, mostly confident—Bea go?
Indy turns me away from the mirror so I’m facing him. His gaze shifts from admiring to carefully assessing. “Are you having second thoughts about this? If you are, we can call it off.”
“Call it off?” My eyebrows jump up. “Aren’t Hawk and Rhiannon on their way here already? I think it’s a bit late for that.”
“They would understand.” He catches my hand and laces his fingers between mine. “Rhi’s gone through some shit. She’ll understand if you’re not up for socializing.”
I snort at the ridiculousness of his statement. “Rhiannon was a Green Beret. One of the first female Green Berets ever, from what you said. And she works for B and A. She wouldn’t get freaked out over meeting a couple of new people.”
“Bea.” He leads me over to the bed and tugs me down so I’m sitting flush against him. “Just because Rhi’s Special Forces doesn’t mean she doesn’t get scared sometimes. Just like the rest of us.”
“It’s not that I’m scared, exactly.” Or is it? At Indy’s questioning look, I try to explain. “I want to meet them. Really. And I hate that I feel nervous about it. In my job, I meet new people every day. And I don’t worry about it for a second.”
“But this is different,” he replies. “Things aren’t normal. And it’s natural for you to feel uneasy about another change.” His mouth pinches. “Maybe I should have said no when Yara mentioned it. I should have thought—”
Crap.
The last thing I want is for my insecurity to make Indy feel like he did something wrong.
“It’s fine.” I lift my shoulders and chin. I take a steadying breath and let it out slowly. “I’m fine. I want to meet Rhiannon and Hawk. Have a nice night with your friends. Forget I said anything about being nervous.”
Indy studies my face for a few seconds. “It’s okay to be nervous. I think you’ll enjoy yourself, but if you feel uncomfortable at all, just tell me. We can come back in here, watch some more Top Chef, or a movie… whatever you want.”
As I look at Indy sitting beside me, so handsome in a slate-blue button-down that brings out the silver in his eyes, his beard freshly trimmed and his hair still in damp waves from the shower, my mind wanders off to other activities we could do in the bedroom, instead.
We’ve had some steamy make-out sessions over the last few days, but they haven’t ended anywhere close to sex.
We’ll kiss in the sunroom after everyone else is asleep, or Indy will slip into my bedroom under the auspices of making sure I’m okay before bed, staying just long enough to kiss me silly before he heads off to sleep.
On the air mattress in the office. Not in my bed.
With the few men I’ve been with in the past, I always waited a long time before having sex with them. Weeks. Months, even. Though it wasn’t a conscious decision, I think I was always waiting for their inevitable rejection.
Or maybe I just knew, deep down, they weren’t right for me.
I know Indy could reject me, too. We haven’t gotten around to the whole what are we conversation, so I really have no idea if he even wants our relationship to get to that point.
He’s a guy, though. So I’d guess sex is always on the table?
But is that all I want? No-strings-attached sex?
Should I even be considering sex or a hypothetical relationship when there’s so much else to worry about?
“How about this?” Indy loops his arm around my shoulders and draws me close to his side. His lips press to the top of my head. “We’ll skip the whole games and pizza thing. Stay in here, watch a Top Chef marathon, order whatever takeout you like—”
“Nope.” I hop off the bed and grab Indy’s hand, tugging him along with me. I don’t even think about which hand I reach for, and when I touch the hard material of his prosthetic, his posture stiffens a little.
But he doesn’t pull away.
And a second later, his fingers wrap around mine.
“I want pizza,” I tell him. “I want to meet your friends and hear embarrassing stories about you. And I want to try this extreme Jenga I keep hearing about.”
His worried features relax into a smile. “Extreme Jenga can get pretty crazy. Although we won’t let it go that far tonight. When we’re back at HQ, though, and shots get thrown into the mix…”
As we leave the bedroom and head down the hallway towards the living room, Indy adds, “Our friend, Leo, came up with the game what… fifteen years ago? It started out as regular Jenga, but then people complained it was too easy. So Leo started adding more rules. More challenges.”
“Challenges like what?”
“Making your move while blindfolded. Using four sets to get the tower as tall as possible. Taking a shot after every turn. Team play, where one person is blindfolded and the partner has to tell them what to do.”
“Taking a shot after every turn?” I look up at Indy in surprise. “How could you even see the pieces after one game?”
“It’s tough,” Ace answers. He’s standing by a card table set up in the corner of the living room, unpacking what looks like at least half-a-dozen Jenga sets. He finishes peeling off the cellophane wrapping on one of them before adding, “But that just adds to the challenge.”
“The Bravo Team guys got one of those oversized sets,” Tyler says as he walks out of the kitchen with a tray of chips and pretzels in his hands. “When it’s set up, it’s something like eight feet tall. So you have to team up to get high enough to reach.”