by Kali Argent
It didn’t seem weird to him at all, but he didn’t question her about it. “I know a lot of people like that,” he answered instead. “So, what goes with pancakes? Orange juice?” He chuckled when she wrinkled her nose. “Okay, how about milk?”
She nodded, a smile stretching one side of her mouth. “Yeah, milk sounds good.”
He’d expected another argument. It was a small victory, but he’d take it.
“Speaking of your speech,” he began casually as he moved around the kitchen, refilling his coffee cup and finding a tumbler—with a little direction from his hostess—so he could pour Phoebe a glass of milk. “That stuff you said about living in your car? Was all that true?”
He set the milk in front of her and resumed his seat, watching her while he waited for an answer. He had believed every word of it, still did, but he hoped if he didn’t approach the topic directly, she might offer more details.
Nevertheless, it didn’t surprise him when she lowered her fork to the edge of the plate and stared down at the swirling black and gray countertop, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
“Too heavy for a first date?”
“Date?” Her head snapped up, and her eyes widened comically.
“Hey, don’t look at me.” Smiling, he held his hands up in mock surrender. “I couldn’t believe you’d be that forward, either. I mean, I just came over to check on you, and there you are, asking me out on a date.”
After a lot of sputtering, Phoebe straightened her spine and glared. “I did no such thing.”
“You cooked for me. There was conversation. I distinctly remember conversation.”
“Pancakes are not a date.”
“If this isn’t our first date, it’s going to be kind of hard for me to ask you out on a second.”
Her lips snapped closed, and a sweet, pink hue flooded her cheeks. “You want to go out with me?”
Dropping the humor, he took both of Phoebe’s hands and cradled them gently in his own. “I like you, Phoebe Keller. I think you’re smart and funny and beautiful.” He gave her fingers a careful squeeze. “Go out with me. Just one date.”
Hesitantly, she pulled her hands from his grasp and settled them into her lap, her fingers twisting together nervously while she studied him. “I’m free Friday.”
That was too long to wait to see her again. “How about tomorrow?”
She laughed. “Friday. Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it.” He leaned in and brushed a chaste kiss across her flushed cheek. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
CHAPTER THREE
“Elena!” Rising from her seat at the small, circular table on the patio of her favorite café, Phoebe raised her right hand in the air and waved. “Over here.”
Beyond a brief phone call to set up their coffee date, she hadn’t spoken to Elena since she’d driven her to the airport on Christmas morning. Of course, she wanted to hear all about her friend’s trip, but for once, she had something exciting of her own to share.
She’d arrived early to procure her favorite table in the corner, the one that butted up against a waist-high wrought iron fence that separated the patio from the sidewalk. The weather had held, the temperatures climbing into the mid-sixties by noon, with just the hint of an easterly breeze. Phoebe loved days like this, when the sky was so clear and crisp, like a giant blue canvas stretched over her small part of the world.
Normally, she chose the corner table on the patio because she enjoyed observing people as they passed, but today, she’d mostly thought about Rayce. She’d never met anyone quite like him, but she couldn’t put her finger on what made him different. He was charming, not too serious, and he didn’t mind her weird quirks. She felt at ease with him, not anxious or guarded.
Instead of anxiety or mild panic, she looked forward to their date. She hadn’t wanted to seem too eager, but in hindsight, she wished she’d have given in to his request to see her sooner. She barely even knew the guy, but strangely, she missed him.
Pushing away thoughts of the handsome bodyguard, Phoebe looked up, surprised to see a tall, slender man with short, dirty-blond locks and vibrant blue eyes walking half a step behind Elena. Hands tucked into the pockets of his navy-blue cargo shorts, he beamed as he followed her across the open patio. When they reached the table where Phoebe waited for them, Elena gave her a brief hug and dropped into the nearest chair, but the young man laughed as he swept her into a bear hug that lifted her from the ground.
“Hey, beautiful. Did you miss me?”
Phoebe echoed his laughter. “Jonas! When did you get back into town? Where are you staying?”
“Yesterday,” Elena answered. “He followed me home from Florida, and now he won’t leave my sofa. I thought about having him put down, but I guess he’s kind of cute.”
Elena’s baby brother had a way about him that just made everyone happy. He always had a smile on his face, and he could find the silver lining in even the most tragic of circumstances.
Phoebe had met him at the same time she’d met Elena, back when he’d been barely more than a boy and fresh out of college. The beginnings of crows’ feet showed at the corners of his eyes now, and his once clean-shaven, boyishly handsome features had thinned and hardened into those of a man.
“This is new.” Phoebe playfully scratched at the scruff that grew along his jawline. “I like it. Looks good on you.”
As a photographer, Jonas’ work took him all over the world. The last she’d heard, he’d been accompanying a journalist down the coast of South America for a piece in National Geographic. Phoebe could count the number of states she’d visited on one hand, and she had never been out of the country. Hell, she didn’t even own a passport, and that suited her just fine. Honestly, she didn’t see the appeal of traveling all the time, but Jonas loved it, and she was happy he’d found a career he enjoyed.
“How was your vacation?” she asked Elena once everyone was seated. Her friend’s fair skin had been kissed by the Florida sun, and her pale-gold tresses appeared a shade lighter than normal. “You look good.”
“It was okay, I guess. Not much happened.”
Phoebe then spent the next half hour listening to Elena talk about her parents, Christmas, New Year’s Eve, the weather in Florida, the lack of hot guys at the beach there, and the chaos of the airports. Sometime during her diatribe, Jonas had disappeared inside the café, returning several minutes later with big, wide-mouthed mugs filled with rich, creamy lattes. Phoebe could have kissed him, but she settled for a smile and a nod before returning her attention to Elena.
“What about you?” Jonas interrupted his sister a few minutes later as he angled his chair to face Phoebe. “Do anything fun over the holidays?”
Cutting a sideways glare at her brother, Elena dropped back in her seat, then turned her gaze on Phoebe as well. “That’s right. You said on the phone that you have something to tell me.”
Phoebe’s pulse sped a little as she wiggled forward in her seat to rest her elbows on the tabletop. “Remember that guy I told you about from the Frost Gala?”
“The security guard?”
The curl of Elena’s upper lip set Phoebe’s teeth on edge, but she let it slide. “Rayce Hawkins. Well, he called me every day after Christmas, but I never answered. So, he showed up on my doorstep last week.”
“Wait. What?” Bouncing up in her seat, Elena surged forward, both of her hands splayed across the top of the table. “That’s super creepy. Are you okay? Did you call the cops?”
Taken aback by the response, it was several heartbeats before Phoebe could say anything. “No, it wasn’t like that. He works for Watchdog Security Solutions. That’s how he got my address.”
“Okay, he’s a proficient stalker. That doesn’t make it any better, Phoebe.”
“I think I’m missing something.” His back still to his sister, Jonas offered Phoebe an encouraging grin. “What happened at this party?”
Thankful to have something to focus on besides
her best friend’s disapproving glare, Phoebe gave Jonas a brief summary of what had happened during the gala and ended with Rayce’s timely intervention.
“So, why did he show up at your house?”
“He was worried about me, thought Tucker might have followed me home or something.”
Jonas’ eyebrows drew together, and his nostril’s flared. “Would this ex of yours really do that? Is he dangerous?”
“No, of course not. Really,” she insisted when he continued to stare at her with a pinched expression. “I haven’t seen Tucker since Christmas Eve, and I doubt I’ll ever see him again.”
He still didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push, either. “What happened next?”
“I didn’t want to let him in at first, but after we talked through the door for a bit, I ended up making him pancakes.”
It sounded crazy when she said it like that, and if the gaping expression on Elena’s face was any indication, she whole-heartedly agreed.
“Some guy stalks you to your house, shows up unannounced, and you invite him in for coffee and pancakes.” With an audible huff, she pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. “What am I going to do with you?”
“It’s not like that,” Phoebe insisted again, growing annoyed by her friend’s reaction. “We’re going out tomorrow night.”
“Are you even sure he works for your security company?” Elena insisted. “I could say I work for your cable company, but that doesn’t make it true.”
“Yes, I’m sure.” After Rayce had left her house, she’d called WSS to inquire about his employment at the company. Two different people had confirmed that he was indeed employed with the firm, and one lady had even offered to transfer her call. “Can’t you just be happy for me?”
“If he’s legit, then I am.” Reaching across the table, Elena covered Phoebe’s hand with her own and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I just worry about you, honey. I’d lose my shit if something happened to you.”
“I know.” The way she’d met Rayce was unconventional, to say the least, and she probably would have reacted the same way if their positions had been reversed. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
“You’re too trusting, Phoebe. You always want to see the good in people, which is sweet, but it’s also dangerous. People aren’t always good.”
“People aren’t always bad, either,” Jonas interjected. Leaning in, he placed his hand on top of Elena’s where it still covered Phoebe’s. “I’m happy for you, Phoebe. I hope it works out.”
“I’m happy for you, too,” Elena conceded. “If he hurts you, though, I’ll skin him.”
Phoebe expected no less. “Thank you.”
“So,” Jonas said, settling back in his seat and propping one ankle up on the opposite knee, “tell us about this date.”
~ ~ ~
“Okay, listen up.” Dressed in a plain black T-shirt and a pair of fitted jeans, Dominic Steele stood at the head of the conference table, his hands resting on the back of his leather, executive chair. “The Lowen anniversary party is Saturday, and they’re expecting over four hundred guests.”
Rayce whistled low from his place halfway down the table. “Are we covered?”
Lowen Enterprises had made its fortune as a military defense contractor, placing their mark on the global world when they’d been awarded a $853 million contract for a new series of strike bombers. The specifics, of course, had been classified, but rumor had it, the new aircraft was some next-level badass shit straight from a science fiction movie.
Naturally, no one became that rich without making enemies along the way, hence how the Lowens had become one of WSS’s wealthiest clients.
“Yeah,” Dominic answered, his voice deep and gravelly. “I had to rearrange some shit, and call in guys from Austin, but we have four teams of twelve for Saturday.”
Watchdog Security Solutions operated all over the state of Texas, and in the past four yours, they had been slowly expanding across the Gulf Coast.
“Including ARIES?” Wren Hayashi, the only female member of Rayce’s team, asked as she pulled her long, raven tresses into a loose ponytail at her nape.
“Including ARIES.” The afternoon sun pierced the tinted windows of the conference room, the golden rays glinting off the streaks of silver in Dominic’s otherwise black hair. “Which is why I called you in here,” he continued. “I want the ARIES team at the Lowen estate tomorrow to do security checks, go over exit routes, and test the range of our new earpieces.”
Everyone around the conference table groaned, Rayce included. The ARIES team consisted of seven members who were trained, certified, and licensed for several duties at WSS—Armed Response, Investigations, and Escort Security. It took a lot of time, money, effort, and commitment to qualify in each of the company’s braches, and further time and dedication to become proficient in all three areas. Because of their expertise, they were most often awarded the high-profile cases and elite assignments. Running routine system checks and overseeing glorified fire drills didn’t qualify as either.
“What time?” Rayce asked. He might not like it, but no one argued with Dominic—ever.
“I want to get a feel for what the back garden will look like Saturday night, which means the same lighting and conditions. We’ll meet there at six.”
Outwardly, Rayce simply nodded. On the inside, however, he grumbled.
All week, he’d been half expecting Phoebe to back out on their date, but the call never came. Her acceptance had been reluctant, timid, but he’d promised her that she wouldn’t regret it. Now, if he had to cancel, he doubted she’d ever agree to see him again.
Dominic stared down at them with piercing, ice-blue eyes. A faded white line traveled diagonally from his upper lip to his cheek, and the tip of his nose listed slightly to the left. Whether injuries sustained in the war or something else, no one knew. He kept his hair a little longer on top, always combed to one side, and he was always clean shaven when he arrived at the office.
The thin, faint lines around his eyes, and the silver at his temples were the only signs that he’d aged since Rayce had first met him. Built like a damn tank, at forty-three, Dominic could still hold his own. In fact, he could probably kick Rayce’s ass up and down Reunion Boulevard—not that he was eager to test that theory.
Dominic operated WSS the same way he’d commanded his platoons in Afghanistan, and everyone in the company trusted him implicitly. If he felt they needed the extra security checks at the Lowen estate, he did so for good reason, even if he hadn’t shared his thoughts with the rest of the group.
“Okay, dismissed.” Dominic never asked if anyone had questions. Never.
Without another word, he marched around the table and through the swinging door set into the wall of frosted glass. He didn’t look back.
“This fucking sucks,” Sawyer Pike grumbled, flattening his hands over the top of the table and pushing to his feet. “I had plans tomorrow night.”
“Yeah, well, those are the breaks, kid,” Rayce answered, slower to rise from his own seat.
Stopping at the end of the table, Sawyer turned, his eyebrows drawn together. “When the hell are you going to stop calling me a kid?”
“When you stop being one.”
The rest of the team laughed.
Sawyer was damn good at his job, and the constant need to prove himself gave him drive and determination. As the youngest member to ever be assigned to an ARIES team, he took a lot of shit from everyone in the office. It had less to do with his age, though, and more his lack of experience, as well as his borderline obsessiveness with rules and regulations.
“You’re good at what you do,” Wren added, pushing her right arm into the red sleeve of a simple, zippered hoodie. “You need to learn to lighten up, though. Life isn’t so black and white.”
With that, she zipped her jacket, nodded, and exited the conference room.
“I’ve found most of life happens somewhere in the gray area,” their team leader
added. “Try to loosen up, kid.”
Asher Grant had been with the company since the inception of Watchdog Security Solutions, and he’d headed the Dallas ARIES team for almost as long. Standing just an inch shorter than Rayce’s own six-feet-four, Asher didn’t have to work to be intimidating, especially with his long, black hair and steel-gray eyes. He looked better suited to the back of a Harley than he did one of the company’s Nissans, but Rayce had seen him charm potential clients into elaborate and expensive security contracts with nothing more than a smile.
“I’m loose. When am I not loose?”
From the other end of the table, Ryder Frost snorted. In direction juxtaposition to Asher’s hardened appearance, Ryder usually looked like he’d just walked off the cover of a fashion magazine. He styled his raven hair in a trendy pompadour, and he wore an expensive, tailored suit to the office every fucking day.
His baby blues had literally made women swoon.
His parents owned and operated the Frost Foundation, a non-profit organization that provided aid to struggling families in and around the DFW Metroplex. They also owned a lucrative horse ranch an hour outside of the city where they ran a program for disadvantage youths. The Frost Ranch also gave priority to veterans when it came to hiring, so pretty much everyone at WSS adored them.
Richard and Rita Frost were good people with solid values, and Ryder was no different. More often than not, he ended up giving his lunch to a homeless person on the street. Once, in the dead of winter, he’d even given a man the boots right off his feet.
He had the money and resources to work anywhere he wanted. He could have gone to an Ivy League college and studied to become a surgeon or a lawyer. Instead, he’d enlisted straight out of high school, served twelve years in the United States Navy, then returned home to work for Dominic.
Everyone at Watchdog Security Solutions had a story, pretty, rich boys included.
When everyone turned to look at him, Ryder shrugged, patted his suit jacket, then dug into the inside pocket to retrieve his phone. “Frost.”
