My mom nudges me with her shoulder. “Why don’tyou ask him out instead?”
Shirley laughs, and I turn to look at my mother dearest. “Not you too!” I nearly shout. “Come on. I can’t catch a break.”
Beside me, Caleb appears, his dirty apron hanging over one arm. “Everyone thinks you should go on a date then, huh?” he asks, his voice low, stance wide. “I tried!” he exclaims.
“Oh, Caleb, honey. It’s not you. It’s her,” Shirley says, turning her charm onto the short-order cook. I have to give her credit. She’s a horny chameleon. I’m used to everyone discussing my lack of relationship status. That’s nothing new. If it gives them something innocent to talk about, so be it.
Mama saves me by making small talk with Caleb about his upcoming shifts, and Shirley clears one of her other tables.Tyler, I think. My best friend doesn’t get a chance to ask him out. He stands, and his sheer size is overwhelming. More than one person turns to look in his direction.
He’s at least six-two, and his clothes pull against every chiseled muscle on his body. No, he’s definitely not a Bronze Bay man. This man-beast is in a league all of his own. His hair is dark, and the scruff on his face says he doesn’t give a shit, and he knows it looks hot. He has big blue eyes, a jawline that is magazine-worthy, and a straight-angled nose. In other words, he must be a horrible person because his exterior is pretty damn close to perfection.
Tyler’s boots are heavy against the tile as he makeshis way to the front door. Before he opens it, he glances at me long enough to give me a smug, crooked grin. No teeth.
The bell bangs on the glass door as he leaves. I swallow hard.
“Oh, my god. He totally wants you,” Shirley says, witnessing his barely there grin.
I raise one brow. “Right. Of course he does.” I say, the sarcasm dripping as I speak. Changing my tone and being serious, I say, “I bet you get that date the next time he comes in.”
Shirley is swearing under her breath as she goes to clean the beast’s table.
Taking off my apron, I put it in the basket under the counter labeled with my name. I grab my messenger bag, kiss my mama, and throw a quick goodbye to my disgruntled bestie.
Once outside, my eyes turn to the sky. Hopping on my bicycle, I ride, half distracted by clouds, to the airport. The roads are never too busy here, and we are close enough to the coast you can always smell the saltwater no matter where you are.
Someone honks, but I ignore it.
I’m almost to my happy place.
TWO
Tahoe
They made me come here.It was under the pretense that only my particular expertise could serve this command. In reality, my bosses sent me here because I slipped up. Overworked and dog tired, my mistake got a brother shot. As if living with that knowledge isn’t enough, I’m now forced to associate with the small-town folks of Bronze Bay that look at me like I’m the statue of David. Or a pariah, I can’t really be sure.
Relax, they told me—focus on making sure everything runs smoothly. Work out, keep my aim sharp, and keep my ears open and my eyes wide. Terrorists lurk everywhere, and I know this firsthand. It’s why I’m a heap of muscle and a mess. It’s why all of my brothers in arms are busy hunting people down. It’s why I’m burned out, why I haven’t had a true life outside of work in years. A decade?
My new motto is three words. Keep it simple. It should be easy in a place like this. No one moves very fast, and it almost seems life exists separate from the rest of the world here. The people are friendly, the beaches are nice, andthe women are rabid for fresh meat. I went to the solitary bar in town last weekend and could have taken home at least five different women. I didn’t, though. It wasn’t that kind of night. I’m still getting the lay of the land, trying to figure out where I fit into the scheme of things, absorbing the details most gloss over. This weekend I’ll go back for other, more selfish reasons.
After glancing over a report about an incident back home in San Diego, I head into the conference room for the daily meeting. It’s a rundown on who is doing what and who is allowed where, a never-ending list of small tasks that need to be accomplished. With a base on this side of the Gulf of Mexico and another on the East Coast of Florida, we’ve been moving boats all over the place so we can be as fast-acting as possible. Pensacola took a huge hit in the attacks, and those in charge felt it was safer to have a new base for us to operate out of rather than try to move in on the destruction. Knock on wood, it’s been slow days at the office since we got here.
“I want to secure an airport,” Leif says, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet on the long table.
“For jumping?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. “Or?”
“Yeah, for jumping, and it would be nice to have something closer if we need to get somewhere quicker. The main airfield is quite a distance away. We always planned on building an airport here.”
I pick at my thumbnail. “We aren’t on the first call list. We’re not going anywhere fast, bro. I can see havingsomething for jumping, though. That would be fun.” I nod, thinking about skydiving. There’s little else that thrills in the same way. Wind hitting my body, the black of night encasing me, my very existence teetering in my hands, only to be saved by the pull of a string.
“The May Airport? Down on the other side of town?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the nail.
“That’s the only one,” Leif says, sliding a printout across the table. “Our budget was upped again, so buying it outright won’t be a problem. This will be much easier than building one.”
“Hasn’t that been in their family for generations? What makes you think they’ll sell?”
Leif opens his oversized arms to the sides. “Look around. If the price is right, these people will do anything.” He fails to realize the people of Bronze Bay love their lives and wouldn’t change a thing. I haven’t been here long, but something like pride in your family establishment is an easy understanding.
I nod, shrugging my shoulders. “Sure. Okay. I’ll feel him out. I can head over after this, I brought the truck today.” Honestly, most days it’s easier to bike in to work, but I bought an old jalopy of a truck when I first arrived. I’d sold all of my possessions before I moved across the country. What I didn’t have time to sell, I gave away to my friends. “Anything else? I read the reports about the incident in San Diego,” I say, changing the subject.
