This makes me smile. I look over at Declan, expecting him to give a laugh as well. Instead, his face is serious, unfeeling.So much for being a team, I think to myself as I wiggle out of my sandals.
This is what snaps Mr. Serious from his stare. “We’re not at the hotel yet,” he states the obvious.
“I would rather walk barefoot over every seashell in Key West right now than spend another minute in these shoes,” I shoot back.
This earns me a chuckle from Declan, which is just as much of a win as our intelligence gathering.
20
DECLAN
Having multiple eyes and ears on Frank Castillo’s yacht turned out to be necessary. After Oliver, Charlie, and I got off the prop plane back in Tampa on Sunday evening, we found out the photos I took of the ship schematics with my hidden camera and Charlie’s eye-glass frame recordings were all scrambled. Ian said the entire system went down on Sunday morning because of the overload from multiple races going on at once. The poor guy worked non-stop to try to recover it. Ian has a work ethic like no one else I know. At least we have a lead on where Castillo is headed thanks to Charlie.
With the extra work hours, I had to get up incredibly early on Monday to get my miles in on the bike. Spending the morning in aero position up and down the Courtney Campbell Causeway was both beautiful and backbreaking. By 10 a.m. I am dragging. I head to the break room for a third coffee.
The speed of the drip coffee is painful. As I wait, someone calls my name. By the accent, I know who it is before I turn round. “Declan,” Celine says with a smile. “How are you?” Her sugar-sweet perfume invades my nostrils as she stands too close. The scent is chemical and reminds me of my grandmother.
“Tired,” I respond. I don’t mean to be rude, but I learned a long time ago that if I reciprocated pleasantries with Celine, she would take it as an opening. And I have no romantic interest in her.
Yes, she is tall and leggy and beautiful. I’m sure men fall over her all the time. But a bully, even a glamorous one, is never going to be my type.
“Well, a run might help wake you up.” Celine grins. It’s a fantastic bright smile. But it is such a shame she only uses it with me, with Oliver, with Finn. Come to think of it, she and Frank Castillo might be a perfect match. Although I’m not sure it would be fair to either of them to make that introduction.
Trey, Ahmed, and our athlete development manager enter the room. They’re all chatting about the event they’ll be at this upcoming weekend. We exchange hellos and I hope their presence will be enough to distract Celine.
It’s not.
“The sponsorship team is organizing a friendly race to Sunnyside Brewery after work. It’s four miles down the road. We’ll all get a ride back after a few beers,” Celine offers, her invitation directed at me.
“Today?” I ask. Because while I am exhausted, I know that a run would be amazing. A chance to think. To cross-train.
“Yeah, man. Last one to arrive has to buy the first round,” Trey calls over. The room is small, so it’s not unrealistic that he would overhear. But unconcealed eavesdropping never sits well with me.
I pour the fresh coffee into my thermos and turn when I hear another set of heels hit the tile.
It’s Charlie. Immediately, my shoulders relax, the tightness in my forehead abates. I don’t take the time to analyze how her presence put me at ease. Maybe it’s because I now have a buffer for this conversation with Celine.
“Ross, Celine is telling me about a team run this evening. You in?” I ask.
Charlie startles; her blue eyes widen until she stammers out a response. “A run, huh? This afternoon?” she stalls by repeating the information I already told her.
She heads to the cabinet with the mushroom coffee for Oliver. Even though she is wearing her low heels, she pops up on her toes to reach the new box of Sprout on the top shelf. My eyes travel north and it is clear that Charlie does not skip glutes day at the gym. I remind myself to stop checking her out and lean over to help her, ignoring the death glare Celine is shooting me. And Charlie.
“Thanks,” Charlie says, averting her eyes. She straightens her white and blue button-down. She looks much more like herself in her work attire, but the image of her in that bathing suit and wrap is something I can’t forget.
“What do you say, Charlie?” Celine asks, calling our attention back to her. “Will you run with us?” I can hear the dare in Celine’s words.
“Yeah, we gotta see if you hang with us,” Ahmed goads her, because daring someone to race by implying they aren’t as fast as you is typically effective. He crosses his arms and his biceps pop out. I know what he’s doing, but does Charlie see through it?
“Oh, I wish I could, but I have plans tonight. Maybe next time,” Charlie says as she busies herself with fixing Oliver’s coffee.
Plans? It’s Monday. Must be nice to have time to make plans.
“Too bad, we’ll have to run again another time,” Celine mutters as she stalks to the break room exit. “See you later, Declan.” She offers a little wave and disappears. The others file out as well, snacks and beverages in hand.
“What plans do you have?” I ask, not caring how direct or rude I might be.
Charlie double-checks that everyone else has left before turning to me. “Oh, I don’t have any plans. I just don’t want to go to the run.” She grins as she shares this little lie with me.
