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Scarlett’s surprised expression melts into a smile. “In week three, apparently.”
“That was the week I wanted to drop out,” I confess. “I thought I knew what it took to be in the FBI. Something inside me hardened a little when my brother died. That made me think I was ready for this life. But after the first day of our training program, I really didn’t know if I was cut out for it. Physically, it was fine. But mentally? Emotionally?” I blow out a breath. “I studied linguistics, you know? I woke up one morning and had no idea what I was doing there, going the special agent route. I wasn’t flashy and heroic.”
Scarlett faces me on the bench, intently listening.
“And then I met you,” I say. “And you told me I didn’t have to be a hero. You, for some reason, believed in me. That belief was worth… everything.”
She pulls apart her fried fish. “You’ve helped a lot of people, Lambros.” I must not look convinced because she adds, “You really have, and I still believe in you.”
“Thanks.”
We’re quiet for a beat before she asks, “You know why I believed in you, Lambros? You were the first person to make me feel safe outside of my family and the Coopers.”
Her words hit their target. That’s exactly it. That’s what we were for each other. Safety, but not in a get-too-comfortable way. In a way that pushed us outside our comfort zones.
“I spent my entire life building this job up,” she admits. “Those first weeks made me question everything, too. I had no backup plan. No other passions. I was so terrified I wasn’t going to be good at it in the way I needed to be.”
“So you found the guy questioning his entire life to compete with?” I joke.
She laughs. “Ding, ding, ding.” Then, more seriously, she says, “We had an intense rivalry and didn’t share our reasons for being there. So what? We may not have shared all our secrets, but we made each other feel like—”
“We belonged.”
She nods as she watches cars and taxis drive by. “I don’t think I would’ve trusted anyone else to compete with in the way we did.”
“To be chosen as your competitor, whew,” I say. “That had to mean something, so I stepped up my game. You made me feel like a worthy opponent.”
“You were. Still are,” she says, not a trace of teasing in her eyes or tone. “You belonged there just as much as anyone else.”
“You did, too,” I tell her. “You were also this burst of emotions and genuineness in a way I had never encountered before. Your incessant drive and bubbly personality kept me going. Is that weird to say?”
Scarlett grabs my hands. “If I boosted you emotionally, then you should know that you boosted me physically. You took me up on my challenges and you came when I demanded early morning sprint races. Growing up, my sisters were out of the house, my parents worked all the time, I was physically bullied. And you? You’ve been present in my life. You showed up and were there for me.”
I squeeze her hands. “Whenever you need me or require early morning wake-up times that still haunt me, I’m your guy.”
“You are,” she says softly, leaning closer.
Our lips are inches apart. We could kiss right now and get back to where we were before all the bad stuff happened. I move in…
And then Scarlett’s phone buzzes in her jacket, vibrating against my stomach.
She blinks, pulling back to answer the call.
“Freddie’s story checks out,” Meyers says. “Bake It With Love has an order for a Santa Claus/Mr. Freddie Lee. The warrant came through, and we validated his phone records against when he made the call.”
“Aw. He really cared about sharing that cake with everyone,” Scarlett says sadly. “Poor guy.”
“I know, right? As for the mulled cider,” Meyers continues, “our social media team found Freddie’s blog. Did you know he runs a very popular mulled wine and apple cider newsletter?”
“No, but that checks out,” I say. “Onto our next suspect.”
“About that,” Meyers says. “I might have our next lead.”
Chapter 26
SCARLETT
5 hours and 30 minutes until midnight
