“Both.”
Rand and Flint both laugh. I give them a semi-smile.
“Are you guys torturing our best tracker?” A soft voice calls from behind us.
All three of us turn as one on our stools, coming face-to-face with Celia Saber-Mendota. My boss, and one of the reasons I’m in Flamingo Cove.
“Best tracker?” Flint pouts. I didn’t realize a 6’7” Samoan fucker could pout. But he’s doing it.
“Yes. Best tracker,” Celia steps between Flint’s knees.
“Lalelei,” Flint growls at her.
“C’mon, you big lug. I’ll take you home, and you could show me some of those -tracking -skills,” Celia smiles at him.
The smile is so familiar to me. It tugs at something in my chest and my mind. The memories flood my system, and it’s all I can do to tamp them down, deep inside.
I don’t even notice Flint hop off the stool and follow Celia out the door. I barely register Rand slapping me on the back with a “later” so he can head home to his wife and daughter.
“Another?” the bartender grunts in my direction.
I nod and stare into the amber liquid, wishing I had a time machine.
Chapter 3
“The Cat Saber Foster Program is no longer accepting applications.”
-Cat
If I had a time machine, I’d go back to five minutes before I met Sean Bellamy and steer myself toward the door.
It’s not that he was a bad boyfriend.
But he wasn’t a great one.
Or even good, for that matter.
He just -was.
And I spent way too much time figuring that out.
Sean blew up my phone as Sheila, and I traveled back to Washington, D.C. last night, begging to meet me at Eximus for dinner. It’s the hottest restaurant in town right now, but that could change on a whim. It’s one of those uber-trendy places that doesn’t have a set style for food. It hasatmosphere. And they’ll charge you handsomely to breathe it in.
As usual, I’m on time - and byon time,I mean ten minutes early. And Sean is late.
He’s the type of guy who tries to do one more thing before he leaves for an appointment. He always believes he can hop into his car and travel across town in five minutes. A trip that takes twenty on a good day. With heavy traffic - it takes an hour. Minimum. Like on a Thursday night after work.
Sean already texted to tell me he was running late. I was not shocked by this. When we dated, I short-changed him all the time. I’d make a date for six when I knew he wouldn’t show up until seven. And that’s the time I’d arrive.
I’m sitting in the Eximus bar, sipping on sparkling water, when a handsome dark-haired Suit sits down next to me.
“Nope,” I hold up my hand to stop whatever nonsense is about to come out of his mouth.
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say!” Suit protests.
I tilt my head and study him. “Oh, I’m sure it will start nice enough. You’ll compliment my outfit, or my hair, or my eyes…”
“They’re a pretty blue.”
