“No, dufus. Talk to Rosie!”
“Oh.” Falcon laughed.
Wakey gave a mock salute and swaggered through the Hub toward the exit.
Falcon thought Glen must have been in an exceptionally good mood because of the recent early success of the new cooperative program. After verifying that the whisters were in tip top condition and not needing maintenance on Saturday, Glen was cleared to take one between the hours of seven and six.
The whisters were usually busy between eight and ten delivering knights to the city. Then again between five and seven.
When Falcon spelled out that he was taking Gretchen on a date, Glen gave him a lecture about the dangers of dating somebody who worked in the same unit.
“There’s a reason why there used to be a strict policy against ‘office romance’ and I’m sure you can guess why.”
“It’s too late to be cautious, sir.”
“You mean you already have feelings for Director Galen.”
“I, ah, have something.”
“Something. Alright. Fair enough. If things go south with the Director, you’re going to be stuck with doing all the tedious life chores that she routinely does for you now.”
“I understand. I don’t intend to, ah, blow it, sir.”
Glen couldn’t help but smile. “Well, I’m glad you’re moving on. I’ll take care of getting clearance at Bluestone and I’ll make sure the caretaker isn’t there on Saturday. But don’t go in the house. Nothing kills romance quicker than angry ghosts.”
“I can see that, sir. We’ll definitely stay away from the house.”
“And be gone well before dark.”
“We will. I’ll have the bird back long before dark.”
“It’s gonna be a heluva date, Falcon. I know that right now you’re thanking me that you know how to fly a whister.”
Falcon grinned. “Well, I wasn’t thinking that, but now that you mention it. Thank you.”
Glen nodded. “Yep. Now get out of here. I’ve got real work to do.”
Falcon left the Sovereign’s office feeling light in his step and kind of like whistling. He didn’t know how to whistle. He just thought an outward expression of joy seemed appropriate at the moment.
When he rounded the corner into the Operations Office, Gretchen knew in an instant that something wonderful had happened. Falcon’s face was becoming more expressive every time they were around each other.
“What’s happened?” she asked. “Something wonderful?”
He laughed. “Yeah. Be ready Saturday morning at ten o’clock for the best date of your life.”
She smiled. “Really? You’re setting the expectation bar pretty high.”
“Making it sky high if you want. The mastermind will blow your mind.”
She giggled at his enthusiasm, thinking he almost sounded like Wakey. “What am I wearing?”
His face fell. What did he know about women’s clothes? His eyes drifted downward, stopped at chest level for an extra beat, then proceeded to her hips.
She cleared her throat. “Let me rephrase the question. Are we going someplace dressy?” He met her gaze and shook his head. “Okay. Someplace casual. Indoors?”
He shook his head again. “Well, sort of. Partly?”
“We’re spending some time in and some time out, but the date is casual.”
She giggled again. “What kind of shoes?”
“Um, shoes that you can walk in?”
“Please don’t make me say obviously. What else do you do with shoes?”
“Well…”
“Never mind. I’ll figure it out. So. Ten o’clock?”
“Yeah. I’ll come to your place at ten and we’ll be out all day.”
“Okay.”
“Oh. What do you love to eat?”
She smirked. “Well, I love to eat and I love to eat most things.”
“You’re easy?”
“I hope not.”
He flushed just a little. “I mean where food is…” He trailed off like he’d lost the thread of the thought he’d begun.
“Anything will be good.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
When he left, Gretchen went back to work having caught his excitement. She didn’t know what he’d planned, but it didn’t matter. Seeing him so excited about the prospect of going on a date with her was flattering and, well, exciting.
She had no idea why she reacted so differently to Falcon than all the other beautiful single knights who filed through her office on a daily basis. There was just something special about that boy that made her nerve endings hum like a symphony.
Saturday couldn’t possibly come soon enough. On the other hand she was grateful for some time to decide what to wear. Something red. Definitely red.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Friday night had been an endless series of exasperated tosses and irritated turns for Gretchen. If she didn’t get to sleep, instead of being bright-eyed and, well, the rest of that phrase could be misconstrued when applied to dating. She wanted sleep. She needed sleep.
She cursed her inability to get to sleep because of a ridiculous amount of excited anticipation regarding the date. She cursed the room temperature, which was alternately too hot and too cold, which meant throwing covers on and off and getting up to adjust the thermostat. Last, she cursed Falcon for filling her emotions with an odd mixture of glee, curiosity, and anxiety, with a little lust thrown in for good measure.
The last time she looked at the clock and groaned because of being awake, it had been three thirty. When she woke at nine thirty, she shot straight up. The alarm had, apparently, been going off intermittently for an hour.
“Shit!” she declared to the contents of her bedroom.
She ran for the shower, thinking how fortunate it was that she’d tried on fifty combinations of outfits and decided on exactly what she was wearing, even had it laid out. Taking the fastest shower in history, at least in her history, she blew out her hair so that it was at least dry near the scalp, and put on lip gloss just as she heard a soft rap at her door.
Grinning at herself in the mirror for small victories over time fitful nights, she decided she looked presentable in her red cashmere sweater, skinny jeans and cordoban ankle boots. She thought they were a perfect choice because the smooth polished leather looked classic, but the soles were half inch tire tread which meant pedestrian off-roading could be tolerated.
She grabbed the camouflage carcoat that had been dumped by the front door and pulled it open. Falcon’s grin faded as his eyes slid down her body, taking in everything from neck to toe.
Damn it. Wrong clothes.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “If you want to come in, I can change.”
His eyes jerked back up to hers. “Change?” He looked confused, then smiled. “Why would you change perfection?”
She flushed. “I mean my clothes. I could see by the look on your face that I’m wearing the wrong thing.”
He shook his head as a lopsided smile appeared. “You look perfect.”
“But you…”
Before she knew what was happening, he stepped into her, put his hands on her waist, pulled her tightly against his body, and kissed her until she woudn’t have been able to spell her own name correctly.
When he pulled back, he said, “Have I told you how good you look in red?”
“You might have mentioned it. I can’t be sure.”
“You should never wear anything else.”
“I’m glad you like it.” She pulled back. “Hey. I, um, overslept. Can we stop so I can grab a coffee on our way out?”
“So you got some extra zzzzs. No wonder you look so good.”
Her lips parted as she tried to decide how to answer. “That’s what Saturdays are for.”
He chuckled. “I’m hoping to change your opinion about that today.” He stepped back into the hall to give her room to close the door.
On the way to the elevator, she said, “So. I gue
ss you’ve had breakfast.”
“Yeah, but I could always eat again. I’m a growing boy. Can we get you something to go?”
She was delighted that he was eager to begin whatever he’d planned. “Sure. What do you recommend?”
“I don’t know all your likes and dislikes.” He made a point of adding, “Yet,” which was kind of thrilling because it punctuated the promise of more than one date. “But I like the ham and cheese croissants.”
“Okay. I’ll try that. It’s not something I could have every day because, you know, ham! And cheese! Sitting inside buttery croissants.”
“What are you doing?” He smirked.
“Making a point about the fact that the only way you could find a breakfast with more calories would be to spend the morning trying every donut at the donut shop.”
Falcon shrugged. “People like their grains in the morning.” She chuffed. “And what’s wrong with that?”
“Let’s see. It’s a three letter word. Starts with f. Ends with t.”
“Fit! Why, yes, I am. Thank you for noticing.”
She laughed. “No argument.”
When they arrived at The Caraffe, the cashier looked puzzled. Looking at Falcon she said, “Weren’t you here already?”
“Yes.” He shifted his weight to his toes so that it looked like he’d leaned toward her. “And now I’m back.” He smiled. “My friend needs a coffee and a ham and cheese croissant.” He turned to Gretchen. “They make them with triple ham and triple cheese for me. You want yours like that?”
She blinked up at Falcon for a couple of beats before turning to the cashier, whom she knew by name as Dahli. “Is he kidding?”
Dahli chuckled. “No.” She shook her head adamantly. “Has one every morning. Sometimes two.”
Falcon looked at Dahli like she was giving away state secrets. “That’s privileged information.”
“Says who?” Dahli replied.
“I’ll have your regular version,” Gretchen put in. “Single ham. Single cheese. And a…”
“Norte Americano, leave room for cream,” Dahli finished the sentence.
Gretchen was clearly pleased. “Dahli, if you can remember coffee preferences for everybody who works at Jefferson Unit then you should apply for the Operations Assistant job.”
Gretchen expected her to laugh and reach for Falcon’s employee card to swipe. She did reach for Falcon’s card, but she didn’t laugh. She looked at Gretchen with a no-nonsense expression and said, “Seriously?”
Gretchen hadn’t been serious, but seeing interest on Dahli’s face, said, “Yes. Seriously. You need to take the test and do the background check that would allow me to interview you. It requires high level security clearance because you’d have access to, um,” she glanced at Falcon, “sensitive information. If you get clearance and you’re still interested,” she nodded her head, “we’ll talk.”
Dahli looked thoughtful.
“You’d have to be able to keep your mouth shut about what people eat,” Falcon teased.
“Go ahead and sit down. I’ll bring it to you,” Dahli said.
Falcon gaped. “You never bring mine to me!”
“You’re not a potential boss,” she said without missing a beat.
Gretchen and Falcon exchanged a look. They had agreed on to-go, but didn’t want to reject Dahli’s offer to go out of her way. After an apologetic glance toward Falcon, she said, “Thanks.”
Dahli’s smile told them both they’d made the right call. “It’ll be out in just a minute.”
They sat by the Courtpark window while Gretchen ate her croissant. “Um. Um. UM,” she said. “This is good.” She made ‘good’ sound like it was a three syllable word.
“Yes. And it also makes you fit.”
She chuckled as she chewed another bite. “I’m sorry to hijack your plans, but I’ll be a lot better company with food in the tummy and caffeine humming around my system.”
“We’re not on a schedule. Well, except that we have to be back by six.”
“We do?”
“Yeah. It’ll ruin the surprise if I tell you why right now.”
“Dying with curiosity now. Okay. I’m eating faster.”
He laughed. “Take your time.”
“No. My appetite is now whetted for things other than ham and cheese.”
“Well, it just so happens that we’re going to eat things other than ham and cheese.”
“When?”
“Later.”
“Later when?”
He decided to distract her with a pivot of subject. “Are you really going to give Dahli an interview?”
“If she gets through the gauntlet, sure. I’m not going to be the one to tell her that it’s not as easy as it sounds. Getting assignment here. At Jefferson Unit. It’s kind of like the fruit at the top of the tree that always looks like the most perfectly formed, perfectly ripe fruit ever, but you’re gonna have to work for it because it’s hard to reach. A post at J.U. isn’t just a feather in the cap. It’s the whole damn ostrich.”
He laughed. “The Great Gretchen.”
He was talking about the first time he’d seen her.
“Okay. So that was dumb. But you went running out of there like you’d seen a…”
She could have slapped herself when she realized what she was saying. Wakey hadn’t told her Falcon’s history so that she could stupidly throw it in his face.
Falcon’s expression went from jovial to troubled in a heartbeat. She watched the muscle in his jaw tick.
“I wish I could have a do over on that,” he said.
“Me, too. It was a dumb thing to say.”
“Doesn’t seem so from here. It’s not bragging to tell the truth.”
He was hinting that he thought she was ‘great’. The red sweater emphasized the color rising in her cheeks.
He looked away before he got mesmerized and started looking like a lovesick school boy. He decided to renew the earlier subject. “A lot of people think it’s more or less the same for knights.”
“What? Being here? Why do you say more or less?”
“I guess I mean I don’t personally have anything to compare it to. I’ve been here for almost half of my life and I’ve never seen the inside of another installation. But I’ve talked to people who have. Before the, um, resurgence of vampire, teams used to be sent all over on missions. We weren’t just vampire hunters. We’d be sent to look into paranormal activity. Now there’s no time for anything but hunting.”
“Maybe that will change.”
“Oh! You haven’t heard. Cripes. I was so focused on… I forgot to tell you. There was a record number of kills last night. Apparently all due to help from our friend.”
“Our friend…”
“Jax. The talking vampire.” Falcon looked around. “Guys are calling him the ‘talker’, which I don’t know, seems kind of…”
“Derisive?”
“Yeah. I mean, if he’s giving us that kind of help, we owe him more than an uncomplimentary taunt.”
She studied Falcon’s face. He was not to be underestimated or thought to be just a really cute guy who was a really good kisser. He was possibly a great guy, as Wakenmann had said. And an out-of-this-world kisser.
Shoving the last bite of croissant into her mouth, she stood up. “Okay. I’m yours. Surprise me.”
He couldn’t stop smiling. Her obvious excitement made him feel like every minute of preparation was so worth it. He’d had a lengthy conversation with Krisp about what to take in the way of food and drink. He wanted something elegant, but they had to be things that would look and taste good without being heated.
Krisp actually blushed when Falcon told him his reputation for culinary management was well-earned.
A half hour before he arrived at Gretchen’s door, he’d called for the special order at the kitchen. Krisp had gone to the trouble of putting it in a giant brown wicker basket so it would look like a romantic picnic from old movies. He’d even provided s
ome padded blankets made of sleeping bag material on the bottom and soft cotton flannel on the top.
When Falcon started away with the basket, the kitchen help gave him catcalls and winks. He felt silly feeling shy about an obvious planned seduction, but he wasn’t as worldly as they would have guessed.
He’d carried the basket up to the whister he was taking, stowed it with the blankets, checked fuel and had done the preflight check.
When she veered toward the exit at the north end of the Hub, Falcon grabbed her arm and pulled her in the direction of the elevator. She looked at him in surprise. There was nothing upstairs except living quarters.
“Falcon…” she started.
“Keep your panties on,” he said, as he pulled her into the elevator.
She watched as he pushed R, but didn’t say anything. She’d told him to mastermind a surprise. She owed it to him to let him play it out on his own terms.
When they emerged onto the roof, the morning breeze caught her hair and ruffled it. It was the first time Falcon had seen her in bright sunlight. It made her hair color, normally appearing chestnut, look like bronze on fire. Beautiful.
“Come on,” he said. With his hand to the small of her back, he guided her toward the whister on the far side of the port.
“We’re going in one of those?”
He couldn’t tell if she was titilated or afraid. “Yeah. Come on.”
“Where’s the pilot?” she asked, as he opened the co-pilot’s door.
He laughed. Of course he did. She knew perfectly well that he and Wakenmann knew how to fly those things.
She climbed in. He leaned over her to fasten her seatbelt, his face so close to hers that she could feel his breath.
“You’re not scared, are you?”
She didn’t answer, just shook her head. He wasn’t convinced she was telling the truth, which meant he had to give her props for being game, whether she was spooked or not.
“You’ve never flown in one of these?” She shook her head again. He grinned. “You’re gonna love it.”
While Falcon walked around to the pilot side, she swallowed hard, cursing herself for tasking him with planning a surprise. Well, wow, she was surprised.
She watched as he manipulated switches, slide bars and buttons before starting the engine.
FALCON: Resistance (KBS Next Generation Book 1) Page 16
