So, yeah, eleven hours of feeling a little naked sat ahead of him.
Beside him, Jayden shifted in her seat. He felt rather than saw the movement—sensed her glancing at him, then away.
Maybe their conversation had unsettled her just as much.
And he didn’t know what to do with that.
Then, hallelujah, the meal-service cart appeared, and maybe they could start over. Indeed, because Jayden met Dakota’s eyes. Something sparked there—relief?
He put down his tray, and the flight attendant leaned down, professional smile in place. “Dinner service. We have chicken or pasta this evening.”
“Pasta,” Jayden said.
“Chicken,” Dakota said.
The flight attendant handed over their trays. The man next to them kept snoring, so she moved on.
Jayden peeled back the foil on her pasta. Made a face.
“Professional assessment?” Dakota asked.
She took a bite. Chewed thoughtfully. “Aggressively mediocre. Three out of ten.” Another bite anyway. “But I’m starving, so mediocre wins.”
He tried his chicken.
“And?”
“A solid two.”
She made a face. “Could be worse. Could be C-rations.”
He glanced at her. “Point and match.”
She laughed. “So, you got out of the military and into security. What’s the worst security assessment you’ve ever done?”
He considered the question. The real answer involved a compound in Syria and a miscounted threat that still woke him up at 3:00 a.m. But he dodged that and went for, “There was a tech conference in Vegas. CEO was convinced someone was trying to steal his revolutionary new product.”
“Was someone?”
“No. The product was an app that reminded you to drink water. Not exactly state secrets.”
“But you still had to take it seriously.”
“Three days of my life I’ll never get back.” He shook his head. “The man insisted on a security detail for his hotel room. Made us sweep for bugs twice a day. And the whole time, his password was taped to the bottom of his laptop.”
Jayden laughed, a sort of snort, and then a giggle. Cute.
“People are crazy,” she said.
“Keeps me employed.”
“Silver linings.” She took another bite of pasta, made another face, ate it anyway. “Okay, fine, you deserve the raccoon story.”
“I didn’t ask about a raccoon.”
“You’re going to want to hear this.” She leaned back, her eyes warming. “Tuscany. The height of summer—the place was just baking. The hotel seemed fine from the outside. Nice lobby, friendly staff. And then I found the ice machine.”
“The ice machine.”
