Five minutes before their agreed-upon time, the sporty red Mustang pulled into the lot. The sense of anticipation rose. Cage watched as she checked her hair and slid a small tube over her lips. He chuckled slightly when she held her hand up over her mouth in a quick breath check, glad he wasn’t the only one who did that.
With exactly one minute to go, Bree got out of the car and proceeded to the diner entrance. He silently appreciated the easy grace of her stride and wondered if she’d always had self-confidence or if she’d had to learn it, like him.
Only once she was inside did he offer a wave.
“Hi. Have you been waiting long?” she asked as he slid out of the booth and stood in courtesy.
“Not at all.” He wasn’t about to tell her that he’d been there for nearly an hour, having spent the first thirty minutes in the parking lot and the rest of the time scoping out the diner itself. If necessary, he could provide descriptions of every vehicle in the lot as well as an accurate account of everyone within.
When Bree was seated, he slid back in, too, discreetly filling his lungs with her subtle, feminine scent. He couldn’t help but notice her soft, satiny pink lips, too and wondered what flavor she’d used on them.
Under the bright lights of the diner, her hair appeared even glossier and shinier than it had been the day before. When she turned a certain way, it looked almost purple. The effect was striking. Her nails looked freshly done, too.
“You look nice.”
Her smile was like a punch to the solar plexus. “Thanks for noticing.”
The server came by with menus and took their drink orders.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Bree put up her index finger in a wait motion.
“Order first, then talk. I’m starving. What’s good here?” she asked him, perusing the daily-specials insert.
“I have no idea. I’ve never been here before. Sam recommended it.”
Her brow creased slightly. “Sam ... I don’t remember meeting him.”
“Her. Sam is short for Samantha.”
“Ah. Does she live at Sanctuary, like Kate?”
“Yes, but she grew up in Sumneyville, too.”
“A girlfriend?”
“A wife,” he corrected. When her pretty eyes widened, he quickly added, “Not mine.”
She seemed relieved, which he took as a good sign. “I didn’t realize any of the guys were married.”
“One’s married, and two are engaged.”
“Interesting. Do you think they’d be willing to talk to me? It’d be nice to get a female perspective.”
“I can ask.”
“Please do.”
The server returned with their drinks. After assuring them that everything on the specials menu was good, they made their selections. Cage ordered an open-faced turkey sandwich with gravy and mashed potatoes; Bree ordered a salad with grilled chicken.
“A salad? I thought you were starving.”
“I am, but I need greens,” she told Cage after the waitress left with their orders. “Ms. McGillicuddy is a good cook, but I don’t think she knows how to make anything that isn’t deep-fried or smothered in butter.”
He laughed. “Healthy eater, huh?”
“Not really. Just used to the California frame of mind, I guess. Harder to hide under bulky sweaters out there.”
He didn’t think she needed to hide anything but also felt it wouldn’t be gentlemanly to say so. “It’s been a while since I’ve been out that way, but I do remember that.”
She sipped her peach iced tea, which he knew from personal experience was excellent, and cocked her head. “Let me guess. SEALs training at Coronado?”
Was it an educated guess, or had she done her homework, as he had? Probably the former unless the Sentinel Voice had a research team with access to confidential military personnel records. Plus, he had mentioned that he and the others had all worked with Church on the teams at some point.
“Got it in one.”
“Where are you from originally?”
“New York.”
“Me too!”
He nodded. “Brooklyn, right? Or maybe Staten Island?”
She gaped at him. “Both, actually. How did you know that?”
He shrugged, unwilling to get into the specifics. “I’ve got a good ear for accents,” he said, which was true.
“I worked really hard to get rid of that accent,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief.
“It’s very faint.” He could see the questions forming behind her eyes and headed them off. “Tell me, what made a Brooklyn girl move to California?”
For as adept as she was at asking questions, she wasn’t as comfortable with answering them. She blinked once or twice, as if surprised he’d asked. He sipped his ice water and waited patiently.
“I wanted to get as far away from my roots as possible.”
“That bad, huh?”
She nodded, playing with the paper that had covered her straw. She was quiet for a long time before she said, “Do you know what a made man is, Nick?”
If she only knew how well. “I do.”
“Well, my father was one, and now, he’s spending the rest of his days rotting in prison.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. But you know what? It is what it is. Or was what it was. That isn’t my life anymore, nor will it ever be again. What about you? What made you want to join the Navy?”
After hearing the bitterness in her voice, he wasn’t about to get into that. Instead, he shrugged and said, “Seemed like a good idea at the time. See the world, get an education.”
Several times over dinner, she tried to steer the conversation back to him, but over the years, he’d honed the skill of redirection to a fine art. They talked about California and her job at the Sentinel Voice. As time progressed, she seemed to grow more comfortable around him.
They weren’t that different, he realized even if she didn’t. Possibly even kindred spirits. Both from Brooklyn. Both with questionable family ties. Both had gone to the West Coast in the hopes of changing their lives for the better. Both tended to work well in teams but were essentially loners at heart. The difference was, he had found
