Faith set the table while Gus grilled up the steaks to order. One well done for Candy, one basically raw for Walker, and the rest medium-rare.
With Taco happily gnawing on a bone, they sat down at the patio table, a mishmash of people who, for whatever reason, found themselves living in the same house. Liam, a former Marine who’d served in ’Nam, kept them entertained with stories while Candy and Faith listened and laughed.
Walker was quiet, and Gus kept an eye on him. The man had had some heavy shit happen — on more than one occasion — and his buddy went dark sometimes.
“Where are you from, Walker?” Faith asked the question, and Gus was glad of the change in conversation.
“Originally from Texas but basically a California boy. Spent my teenage years in Santa Monica.” He grinned. “You ever surf?”
Gus kept a straight face. The fact was, Walker came from big oil money and had more of it than any man deserves. He’d provided their startup capital, and luckily, their business had more than thrived. They were sought out worldwide as a leader in both high-tech security and boots-on-the-ground stuff. Gus and Walker preferred boots-on-the-ground and were hands-on when it came to the business, leaving the other stuff for Dozer.
Faith shook her head. “Never tried surfing.”
“I’d be more than happy to take you out sometime. Private lessons are my thing.”
“I’m sure they are,” she chuckled, “but I don’t think we’ll find waves around here.”
“Long Beach is what,” he looked at Gus. “Three hours?”
“The way you drive, I’d say two. Tops.” Gus sat back. “Not that you’re going to have time for a road trip.”
“No?” Walker flashed a smile. “Why is that?”
“You’ll be helping me with the cottage renovations.”
“That so.” Walker pushed his empty plate a few inches in front of him and set his elbows on the table. “I don’t remember being asked.” He winked at Faith, and Gus’s jaw clamped tight. “But hey, I think I can be persuaded to stay on for a bit.” He leaned forward. “It’s not like either one of us have a business to get back to or anything.”
“Things are looked after.”
Faith looked at Gus and then Walker. “You’re probably going to take this the wrong way but you two sound like a couple.”
Walker’s grin widened. “Not the first time we’ve heard that.”
“Jesus, shut up.” Gus got to his feet and began clearing away the paper plates. He’d shoved all of them into the garbage bin and turned, surprised to find Faith standing there. She handed him a ball of tin foil and the pan he’d used for the potatoes.
“Your friend is nice,” she said.
They started back toward the house. “We joined the service at the same time.”
“You both have that, um,” she pointed to his neck. “Tattoo. I’m guessing you were both SEALs?”
He nodded.
“And you’re in business together?”
“What?” He stopped walking.
A small frown marred her forehead. “He said something about a business, and I assumed you two were in one together.”
He was silent for a few moments, thinking of the best way to play this. He didn’t like lying, but if it got out that he had a real job, folks would wonder what in hell he was doing repairing cottages at the Boone estate.
A part of him wasn’t even sure what his real agenda was.
He decided the best course of action was to deflect. Lying to this woman would leave a bad taste in his mouth. He kept his voice light and began moving toward the deck.
“That’s why we don’t assume.”
“So, you’re not in business together.”
