Blind Luck (The Technicians Series Book 3)

by Olivia Gaines

  “SGT Muniz, are you okay?”

  “No,” he said. “I ain’t gonna ever be okay. I will need to take the bus to Georgia because loud noises fuck with my calm.”

  “A bus will take nearly a week from here to Georgia,” she told him. “Are you unable to fly?”

  “Flying fucks with my calm,” he said, slurping at the coffee, scanning his sectors, searching, looking, and waiting nervously. In the kitchen, a pan of dishes hit the floor as did Joey Muniz. Philomena’s head turned to see which direction the noise emanated only to turn back and not see Joey until she heard a whimper under the table. Getting down on her hands and knees, she rubbed his back, whispering soothing words to him before helping him back to his feet.

  “SGT Muniz, thank you for your service to our country,” Philomena said. “I pray with everything in me that the counseling you are receiving is helping with your PTSD.”

  “It ain’t helping shit,” he said. “Loud noises fuck with my calm. The pizza delivery man with his beady eyes ringing my doorbell and yelling my pizza is here, fucks with my calm. Right now, so does life. I was hoping to get away for a minute...but I can’t hide from this.”

  “I understand, but...,” she started.

  “You don’t need to say it. I’m not right for this gig,” SGT Muniz said, standing up, his focus now on the dessert case. “Hey, can you buy me one of them fancy donuts? Sugar helps sometimes.”

  “Sergeant, I will buy you a whole dozen,” she told him as she walked side by side with him to the register. A dozen pastries later, he made his way out the door, nearly dropping the box of goodies when a car backfired.

  Philomena watched him make his way to his truck, where he sat behind the wheel and gorged his face with at least four of the pastries before pulling into traffic. Suddenly, her great plan didn’t seem that great after all and the feeling of stupidity began to crawl up her leg, sit in her crotch, and puss-punch her for being an idiot. Admonishing herself for thinking in the least that her bad feeling was a sign of great things to come was only reiterated by the arrival of Specialist Nathan Cook, an Army cook who looked to be no more than 25 years old. Not only was he too young, but too military, calling her ma’am, standing at parade rest, and requesting permission to be seated.

  “Request denied, soldier,” she said. “Thank you for your service and take a cupcake with you.”

  “Thank you, Ma’am,” Specialist Cook said as he bounced off like Tigger on meth out the side door. In some ways, she was grateful for all three failed attempts because in between interviews with potential candidates, an opportunity presented itself to watch the customers come and go. So many hours of her life were spent inside her lab, working well into the night or on set making pricks glisten for the camera, that she’d forgotten how daily interactions between real people looked. A warm feeling sat in her stomach when she looked up to spot a set of eyes across the room watching her.

  He was a nice-looking man, tall, wearing a snug fitting pair of denims that clung in all the right places. He offered a small smile to Philomena, who smiled back, noticing the crinkles around the corners of his eyes. He was a good-looking, sexy man who had arrived an hour ago and ordered coffee and a hot brisket sandwich. He held up half the sandwich, offering to share his meal, but she tapped her watch, waiting for Sergeant Danny Atch to arrive in less than 30 minutes.

  Danny Atch arrived earlier than expected with a shitload of attitude, a scar across the face, and a pair of breasts.

  “The ad was for a man,” Philomena said.

  “No, the ad was for a soldier who was single and able to hold their own,” Danny said. “I’m single. I also held down a whole shitload of insurgents while my platoon radioed for air support. Do you want to know how I got these scars?”

  “No, Danny, I do not,” she said softly. “I thank you for your service, but I need a man for this particular job.”

  “What? You ain’t never been licked by a real hard charger?” Danny said, trying to shock Philomena.

  “Actually, I have been, but he didn’t have a whole lot of use for his tongue when the lights came on, so it all became irrelevant,” she told Danny. “Thank you for coming. Can I buy you lunch?”

  “Hell no! I thought that as a woman, you would appreciate the opportunity to bust up the glass ceiling and hit Georgia in style to shake things up a bit,” Danny said. “We can show the men how it’s done!”

  Philomena appreciated the potential to shut up her family with an in your face soldier, but Danny Atch was too in your face. The woman was just...too. Not to mention the haranguing she would receive from her brothers and the disapproving looks from her father, and her grandfathers would disown her. Her family was entirely too conservative to deal with her weirdness as an artist. They would tie her to Great Grandpa Tommy’s tree and shoot arrows at her head if they thought her free time was spent loving a woman.

  Danny, too offended at not being afforded the opportunity to earn the three large hissed at Philomena, storming out of the restaurant in a huff after, of course, whispering in a low voice a string of expletives, detailing the means in which she could flay Philomena’s skin from her body. Exhaling in frustration, Philomena wanted to grab her purse and leave. Forget the last candidate and just call it a night. Once more, she would fly home with her tail between her legs and have the esteem slowly eviscerated from her body before she cried all the way home on the plane. Life sucked and so did this. Almost in tears, she squared her shoulders when the good-looking brisket sandwich eating man stood, spoke briefly with the waitress, and made his way to the table where she sat in defeat.

  “May I join you?” he asked in a deep sexy voice that matched his deep sexy, soulful, brown eyes.

  “Shit, why not? The way my day is going, I am due for a turn at something pleasant,” she sighed.

  “Well, I’ve been here for two hours and the only thing I’ve seen you drink is black coffee and eat sweets. You are going to crash soon and hard,” he told her.

  “I crashed and burned the moment I placed that stupid ad,” she said softly.

  “Assuming those last two jokers were candidates, I would say yes, you are definitely on fire and about to die,” he said, smiling at her with those adorable crinkles around his eyes.

  “Yeah, the last one reminded me of the Joker. She even had the nerve to actually ask me, ‘You want to know how I got these scars?’” Philomena said in disbelief. “Ironically, believe it or not, that was one of my last major studio jobs. I did the makeup for the character.”

  “Really?” Sexy Man said. “Is that what the ad is about? You doing a small production down in Georgia?”

  “No, I am going home for my Great Grandfather’s 90th birthday celebration, which my insane family has decided to make into a family reunion,” Philomena confessed. “My entire family, sans the liberal artist here, are all military. The one or two times I have taken home a bleeding heart Bluetard, as they fondly call any liberal, it has been embarrassing.”

  “How embarrassing?”

  “Phillip, my last victim, was tied to a tree as my brothers shot arrows at his head,” she said frowning.

  Sexy Man’s eyebrows went up. “So, you think taking home a soldier would help alleviate the crazy, huh?’

  “At least another soldier could speak their language, share war stories, and not back down from the good ole Southern boy hazing my relatives are bound to try and dish out,” she said.

  “Not to be nosey or anything, but if it is such a hassle, why bother to go?”

  “We choose our friends and companions, not our families,” she said.

  “True,” he said as the waitress came to the table and set down a Boulevard Harvest Salad in front of her.

  “You ordered me lunch?”

  “Seems like you need to put something on your stomach other than coffee and sweets,” he said. “I hope it wasn’t too forward.”

  “Actually, it was very thoughtful of you,” she said, eyeing the salad as if it were her last m
eal. “I am Philomena Stephenson by the way. Thank you.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Philomena,” he said, pausing to watch her face. “I am Jade Cooper.”

  The fork dropped from her hand. Jade Cooper, retired First Sergeant, an Infantryman and former Drill Sergeant, who was Airborne and Air Assault qualified, a Jungle Warfare Expert, a Level IV Combat Trainer, and the recipient of a Purple Heart for being wounded in battle, and who also happened to be the last applicant in her quest for the perfect partner for the charade. Her eyes begin to tear in relief as she looked at the kind eyes.

  “You are the last applicant and my last hope,” she said softly.

  “For that three grand Philomena, I will be the last anything you ever need,” he said with a wink.

  Staring into the amazing eyes of such a skilled soldier, she almost forgot how to chew. She watched his face, studying every line, contour, crack, and crevice in his skin. She branded this moment in her brain as she tried to find the words to move the plan forward.

  “Do you have any questions for me, First Sergeant Cooper?”

  “Sure, do I have to sleep with you to get the money?” He asked.

  “No, of course not,” she said. “My family is very conservative. We have to stay in the house, but since we are not married, you will have to sleep in the guest room.”

  He raised his hand for the waitress to refresh his glass and to bring him the check. She knew this tactic. It was used by her mother. The fucking pregnant pause to gather his thoughts and to get her with a clever zinger. She waited. She watched. She worried, only briefly as a soft smile formed at the corner of his lips.

  “I guess we will need to get wedding rings then to really pull this off, eh?”

  “Jade Cooper, I only need you for the five days to come with me to Georgia, pretend we are mad for each, and then we come back, you get paid, and we go our separate ways,” she said, leaning forward on the table. Her full breasts pressing against the edge of wood gave Jade all sorts of ideas about how this could work out in his favor.

  “Philomena is a long name to say, can I call you Philly?” he asked, moving on, not waiting for her permission to shorten her name. “If your family truly are hardcore soldiers, pretending to be intimate ain’t gonna cut it. They will see right through it. So, I suggest, Philly, you pay me half of the money up front, we go on a couple of dates, get to second or third base so you can be comfortable with my touch, slap on a few wedding rings, and make it more realistic.”

  “You want me to pretend to be married to you in order to fool my family?” she asked, shocked at his forwardness.

  “Why not? You were going to lie to them anyway by taking home a stranger you’re fobbing off as your lover,” he said. “I’m just taking us to the next logical level. Hell, you are so easy on the eyes, I don’t see a need to pretend to be your lover. I’m all in if you are.”

  “First Sergeant Cooper, I am not paying you to be my lover,” she said.

  “And I’m not taking the money to be your lover. I am taking the money because I need it. I’m not offering to be your lover for a bonus either. I’m suggesting it because hell, I don’t like pretending and you, well, turn me on,” Jade said.

  “What?”

  “You heard me,” Jade replied. “I have been watching you for two hours with all that hair piled up on top of your head and your long slender neck and legs that make me think bad things. You requested the candidate be single, which means you are as well; so, shit, if we’re gonna do this and deal with your hillbilly family, let’s both really get something out of it.”

  “That is just so crass,” Philomena said. “And my family aren’t hillbillies; just very Southern.”

  “Yeah, whatever! But you’re thinking about it, aren’t you? About the possibility of us as more?” he asked with a wink.

  Looking into Jade’s sexy eyes and watching those amazing lips, she was thinking about it. She was thinking really hard about it, too. The sad part was that Jade Cooper knew it.

  “You are going to exploit this aren’t you?” she said, lowering her eyes.

  “Oh yeah,” he said, “but you are going to love every moment of it. Eat up so we can go get us some wedding rings.”

  Chapter Three- Rings, Roses, and Romance

  The mid-afternoon April sun shone down upon their heads as a soft breeze wound its way through the valley, giving intermittent gusts of soft air. Philomena felt completely out of breath as she walked beside the tall soldier with the strong gait, a sensual mouth, and eyes that took in everything in his path. The whole wedding ring thing bothered her as he led her down the sidewalk of the strip mall to locate a jewelry store. Finding not only a jewelry store but a pawn shop as well, he pointed to both for her to pick.

  “This is nuts,” she said. “I’m really not comfortable with this idea.”

  “But you were comfortable to place an ad to hire a stranger to pretend to be your boyfriend to fool your parents so they could stop bugging you about getting married and spitting out a few pups,” Jade said, reaching for the door handle to the store. “Are you a lesbian?”

  “No, I’m not a lesbian,” she said with her cute button nose scrunched.

  “That nose is adorable, makes me want to kiss the tip of it,” he said, reaching for her, but she took a step back.

  Jade released the door handle and moved closer to stand boot tip to sandal with her. His breath, freshly minted via the aid of a spearmint mouth freshener, caressed her cheek on exhalation. He stared deep into her brown eyes, searching deeper for the woman who hid so far in her head. This type of girl he knew. She was the type of girl he liked. Quiet and reserved on the outside, but with the right incentives, she would come alive under the right man. He was the right man. Under him, he planned to make her come, alive and otherwise.

  “Tell me, Philly, how long has it been since you’ve been home to visit your folks?”

  “I haven’t been home in five years,” she said. “It was 10 years ago that I took Phillip...and the whole tree thing.”

  “Okay, when was the last time they came to visit you?”

  That question she didn’t want to answer. Her hesitation was answer enough for Jade. He knew the response. He understood what her excuse was going to be, and thereby concluded that Philly’s folks had no idea what was going on in her life.

  “Well, it’s been 12 years since they came to Los Angeles,” she started, but when he opened his mouth to object, she placed delicate fingers across his lips to silence him. “Before you go all Drill Sergeant on me, let me clarify. At the time, I was living in the Arts District in NoHo, right off Lankershim.”

  “I know the area,” Jade replied.

  “The week they came for a visit, it was nuts. Someone robbed the Starbucks on the corner, then two days later, a car drove into the same building. We came home from Universal Studios and the LAPD had a guy slammed against a wall while helicopters circled overhead. There was a slight tremor that same night, shaking everything on the walls, that kind of stuff.”

  “Life in Los Angeles kind of stuff,” he said.

  “Yeah, but life in LA is different to people who live in a small town in Georgia,” she said. “At the time, a lot of people in the building I lived in were extras in movies. I kid you not, I swear it seemed like every one of them got a role in the first installment of the new Planet of the Apes movie. So here you have all of these adults up and down the walkways, pretending to be apes and walking on their knuckles.”

  Jade started to laugh at the visual.

  “My father didn’t find it funny at all. He was convinced that everyone in LA was on a new kind of drug that made them all shallow, self-centered assholes worshipping the God of Fame,” she said.

  “I’m laughing because my folks are from Indiana, and they had the same reaction,” he said. “Dad complained non-stop about the traffic, long lines, and half-naked women.”

  “I thought most men loved that about LA,” she said.

  “Sure, if what we
were actually seeing were women,” he said with a wink, pausing to push a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re deflecting.”

  “No, I’m not. I just don’t see a need for wedding rings,” she said. “An engagement ring, maybe.”

  “Nope,” he said. “If your family is how I imagine them to be, then why half-ass it? You walk in there with me wearing a wedding ring and telling them we’ve been married for five years, and they will feel guilty as hell for not being a real part of your life. The tables get turned on them.”

  “So, what happens if they decide to come out for a visit afterward? You gonna move in with me until they leave?”

  “After you spend one night in my bed, Philly, I’m certain you are going to want to move in with me,” he said, licking his bottom lip.

  “Doubtful,” she replied, stepping around him to open the door.

  “Damn, you are harsh. I want to find out more about you and the bastard who let you down,” he said. “I know one man who has let you down has been your Dad, but not all of us are dogs or unable to emote what we feel.”

  “You are scaring me,” she said, wondering how he could sense and know so much about her and her life.

  “New and exciting is always scary, but trust has to be earned. I will earn your trust so that when we get to Georgia, we can get through it with no issues. You said next month, right?”

  “Yes, Memorial Day weekend.”

  Jade asked, “The whole uniform thing? I assume you want me to bring my Dress Blues.”

  “Please. On Memorial Day, my family goes to the local cemetery to place flags on the soldier’s graves,” she said. “A soldier from Ft. Gordon comes and says a few words, and retired members of the Army Band play, and then there is a fellowship around the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, Georgia edition.”

  “Okay,” he simply said.

  “Just ‘okay’? You aren’t weirded out by any of that?’