Page 237 of Unexpected Hero

Relationships. People. Communication. These are a few of my least favorite things.

Fuck my life.

Like an angel, my coworker Mia halts my internal meltdown by handing me a can of soda as she returns from the break room. “Diet Coke break.”

Setting my cell phone face down on my desk, I take the offered can. “Thanks.”

If anyone needs a distraction right now, it’s me.

As I pop the top, I spare a second to enjoy the soothing whoosh from the release of the CO2.

Mia settles into her chair after shooting Klein a look over her shoulder.

Look? Glare?

Same thing when it comes to these two.

He narrows his eyes at her in return, his upper lip curling in a snarl.

Mark my words, they’ll implode any day now. I hope I’m far enough away to avoid the fallout when they do. But given we’re all sharing my lair, the odds aren’t great that I’ll get clear of the blast zone.

Each day since she joined the intel team at Redleg, the tension in the room has doubled.

You know what? I could use another topic to obsess over so I don’t revert to panicking over Lettie. Math might do it. I’ll extrapolate the tension a bit.

For argument’s sake, let’s assume the starting pressure was one pound and has doubled each day for ten working days since Mia started. Therefore, by today, it’s up to 1,024 pounds. That’s a 102,300 percent increase in sexual energy.

No wonder it’s hard to breathe.

But I like working with Mia.

She’s funny and smart as hell, and she doesn’t treat me like a machine. Still not sure how much I trust her. That’s why I’m monitoring her activity so closely.

She’s also saving my ass around here. And the competition between her and Klein has been good for him. He’s stepped up his game — either to impress her or beat her. His reason is irrelevant. A rising tide lifts all ships.

Currently, he’s pouring through background research for another new bodyguard Big Al wants to hire. Of course, I’ll do my own digging after Klein passes the file to me. I’ll be damned if I let anyone sketchy join the Redleg family. Fuck that. Yet with him handling the initial legwork, it frees up my time to focus on training Mia and working on more complex tasks.

Hopefully, Lettie believed me when I told her she has nothing to worry about with Mia. It’s the truth. I miscommunicated things to Lettie, as to be expected, given I’ve never had a female friend. Or a girlfriend.

Dammit. Now I’m thinking about Lettie again.

Mia sips her drink as she glances over her computer monitor. “You’re about my age, T. Do you remember those commercials?”

My nose wrinkles as I mentally rewind to find out what I missed while doing exponential mental math and doom spiraling. “What commercials?”

She cups her hand beside her mouth like she’s telling me a secret. “Diet Coke break. Diet Coke break.” She drops her hand and smiles. “Remember those? With the ladies running around the office whispering that it was break time?”

I nod as the memory sharpens. “And there was a construction guy outside drinking soda with his shirt off?”

“Yeah. Those were funny commercials.”

“I was partial to the Cindy Crawford Pepsi ad.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh yeah. With the little boys watching her like they’d stumbled onto their dad’s Playboy, right?” She laughs, but not her over-the-top one. Just a little one. “What was the song in that one?” She taps her fingertip over her lips.

I’m about to search the web for the answer like a civilized man when Klein chimes in. “It was ‘Just One Look’ by Doris Troy.”

I snap my fingers and point at him. “That’s the one.”

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