“Which means it’s an issue; it’s just not breaking the rules.”
“Why couldn’t he have fallen for one of your voices in his ear?” Carter asks. “There is no fraternization policy between teams.”
“We don’t actually have one at all.”
“Really?” he asks, his eyebrows shooting up as he swivels his head to look at me, never missing a step.
“I considered it, but as we’re rarely in person together, it’s not really necessary. It’s not like your team, where a relationship might cause Nash to pick protecting Mikayla over Jaxon.”
“So you think I did the right thing?”
“You followed the rules of the company you work for. Is it up to you to decide what your fraternization policy is?” I ask, making the last turn to the security storage room.
“No.”
“Then, there you go.”
I stop a few feet away from the room, knowing there is a chance someone will be in there collecting earpieces for me. Nash, bless his heart, has been quite helpful when it comes to being another pair of hands for me, since I don’t have anyone else physically here.
“But,” I say, “I also think there are less aggressive answers. Like, couldn’t you just make them disclose their relationship and then not have them be on the same detail? Or just turn a blind eye while they get it out of their system? Who is to say it’s a long-term thing?”
He lets out a soft chuckle, his eyes darting to the door that Nash is most likely behind. He takes a step toward me, lowering his head to look into my eyes. “If they never would’ve said anything and just hooked up a time or two before it fizzled out, I would be happy to live in ignorance. Unfortunately, Nash felt the need to tell me there are real feelings there. Feelings that aren’t going to go away.”
“Give it time; that will change. Feelings don’t tend to stick around too long.”
He leans just a little closer, a sad grin tugging at his lips. “Some feelings don’t just fade, no matter how long it’s been.”
That clean scent of his is back, his deodorant my new favorite fragrance. The air between us pulses as my eyes flash to meet his. There’s sadness there, and something else I can’t interpret.
“Hey, guys.” Nash’s voice comes from my right as the door to the security room opens.
I blink, and the moment with Carter is gone. He’s stepped away so casually that I didn’t even know it was happening, and now I’m questioning if it even happened. Was that a moment there? And if it was, what could it possibly mean?
“Nash,” Carter replies, his voice friendly as he makes his way toward the room.
“I hear you got a talk about hownotto spend your free time in Amsterdam,” I say, smiling up at the large man as he hands me a case with the earpieces already tucked nicely into their spots.
“I told Grandpa over there that he didn’t have to worry about me,” Nash jokes, crossing his muscular arms across the black Mitchell Security shirt he has on.
He and Carter could almost be brothers with their large frames and dark hair. Though Nash’s face is softer, his edges less defined. Carter gives a whole new meaning to strong square jaw.
“I think we both know that he very muchdoesneed to worry about you,” I say, setting the black case down on the table in the room and beginning my inspection of every earpiece.
Nash shrugs. “Or he could just choose not to. It’s not like I want to go out and experience all Amsterdam has to offer. I just want to take my coworker out for a nice dinner.”
“I think you mean date,” Carter chimes in, moving next to me at the table.
His arm bumps mine slightly, the warmth from the contact flowing through me as he reaches across me to grab the next earpiece in line. I shoot him a grateful smile, which he returns with a small one of his own.
“I thought only you were allowed to examine the equipment,” Nash says to me.
I look over my shoulder, seeing the teasing behind the question on his face. He’s not wrong. After Vancouver, relying on someone else to check the earpieces should be out of the question. I’m not sure why I’m so willing to let Carter help me, but I’m sure in a small room with two large men is not the correct time to try to figure it out.
“I just said that so you wouldn’t feel bad that I didn’t trust you manhandling them with those baseball mitts you call hands.”
“Carter’s hands are just as big as mine.”
Do not look. Do not—shit.My eyes fall to Carter’s hands where they gently grasp the small black device, turning it over as he examines it. I’m transfixed by the rough callus I can see on his thumb, imagining what it would feel like—nope!
