I’m still thinking about what it is Tahoe does when he’s working—the things he’s been exposed to that I have no clue about. He responds to Shirley’s statement by making a joke about the house on the hill and confirms the plans. I wasn’t nervous about the dinner. Not until now. What if they ask him what he does? Will he answer in generic code words to hide the truth?
They continue to talk, and I don’t chime in until I hear a lull in conversation. “You going to the spot tonight?” Sometimes they have parties on weekday nights if the weather is nice.
“Yeah,” Shirley replies, picking at her fingernail polish. “Caleb was pretty pissed tonight, so I asked if he wanted to go with.” She meets my eyes, and I understand why he’s pissed.
“Oh,” I reply, swallowing hard. “I was just about to head home. We were finishing up,” I explain, motioning to the kitchen. “Deciding what should happen in there.”
“They still got the ugly olive appliances?” Shirley asks.
Tahoe sighs, nodding. “Yep. Pepto Bismol tile in the bathroom, too.”
“Caroline can give you the heads-up with all of the local stores. The appliance store downtown doesn’t have much of a selection, but he can order most anything you want. Everyone ordering stuff online these days really is a buzzkill for stores like that,” she explains. “Making peace after buying a portion of town history is a good choice.” Holding a hand out with a takeout bag, Shirley thrusts the bag into my hand. “Dessert.”
Narrowing my eyes, I examine the bag. “Oh, I saw your bike and decided to stop in,” I mock. “You’re such a liar. I knew better, Shirley.”
She laughs. “Fine, you caught me, but I did come bearing gifts.” I peek in the bag to find two slices of my mama’s famous peach pie. “I’ll see you later, Care.” She glances at Tahoe, and instead of bidding him farewell, she growls like a tiger, a throaty, embarrassing noise.
Closing the door behind her, I spin on Tahoe. He’s ready for me, hands on his hips. “Don’t beat around the bush,” he says, tilting his head to one side. “Give it to me.”
“What do you do when you’re not training? You’ve told me bits and pieces here and there,” I say, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. “This is a simple town filled with people who, up until now, haven’t been exposed to,” I say, swallowing and waving an arm to his beastly, prominent frame, “your kind. Don’t get me wrong, I know we need you, and I appreciate what you do for our country, but you can’t tell my parents the truth.”
He stalks forward, his smile slipping into something more comfortable. “What are you asking, Caroline?” He licks his lips, and my confidence falters.
Looking left and right, I avoid his piercing gaze. “You’ve killed people? Like, what happens in the movies?”
He laughs, a short burst. “Yes. Are you asking if I’ll go into gory detail about the details of my job with your parents? You’re worried about dinner?”
“Sort of, I guess. So, you have killed people?” It’s like a swift punch. You expect it, so you flex your stomach, but it will still take your breath away regardless.
Closing his eyes, he folds his arms across his chest. “Bad people are killed. Yes. I have killed bad people. I’ll never lie to you. If you ask me something, I’ll tell you the truth, but sometimes you won’t want to hear it.”
“Right, yes. I can see that. Bad people. Yes. That makes sense. And you’re okay with that?” I’m rambling. Even if my ears hear it, my brain isn’t doing anything to fix it. “I assumed that. Do you kill a lot of people?” I throw my hands to the side and weigh them up and down like I’m an awkward human scale.
Tahoe heaves a sigh. “I’m not a paid assassin. It’s not my whole job. The fact of the matter is SEALs have a lot of skills that are useful when you are trying to kill a bad person, so by proxy, killing happens. People who purchase humans,” he says, a knowing look on his face. “Evil men who want to hurt those you love. Terrorists.”
I nod violently, slipping my hands into the oversized pockets of my overalls. “Of course.”
Tahoe reaches a hand out and grabs my chin. “Look at me,” he orders.
I focus on his beautiful blue eyes and breathe. He’s different. That’s not a bad thing. Is it? I knew this fromthe start. Even the village idiot knows Navy SEALs kill people. He grins when he sees me fitting the pieces together. “I’ll never hurt you. Is that what you’re worried about?” he asks.
I think about his hand. The fingers touching my face. How many lives has he taken with the same body parts caressing me right now? He didn’t answer the question purposely. I don’t want to know. Not really, anyway. The bubble I’ve resided in my entire life has been popped. Not just a pinprick either, with a warhead missile.
The dimple on his cheek deepens, and I focus on that. A smile he surely doesn’t wear when he’s taking lives. “I know you won’t hurt me,” I whisper. “You are something entirely different, and that is a little scary.”
Everything about his demeanor softens with my reply. “I won’t tell your parents anything that would be construed as gory or detailed,” he says, laying a hand on his chest. “My parents don’t know any of that either, and my dad is military. Caroline, it’s not like I keep lines in my bedpost to mark each occasion.”
“Of course not. That would be weird,” I retort, swallowing hard. “Do you keep notches in your bedpost to keep track of…anything else?” I can’t help how quickly my mind flits back to sex.
My question garners a full-blown smile accompanying a laugh. “Are you asking how many women I’ve had sex with?” He’s completely amused, cheeks pink and grin calculating.
Embarrassed, I turn away. “I guess,” I reply. He’s already caught on to so much. Because of things my friends told me in the past, I always assumed men wouldbe clueless—oblivious to the ways a woman is capable of asking for information. Tahoe destroyed almost every single preconceived notion I’ve ever had about expectations. He knows everything.
When he doesn’t reply straight away, I ask, “Or is that something I don’t want to know either?”
Clearing his throat, I can see indecision light his eyes. “I’m not sure of the number. That’s an honest answer.”
Accepting his answer is easy. It’s the truth. Tough because how does a person lose count? “You’re not staying here tonight, right?”
