Page 7 of Securing the Odds

She issued a small gasp. “That’s like special forces or something, isn’t it? Wasn’t that dangerous?”

“It is, and it was, but I was good at my job.”

“Why’d you leave?” She’d given up on eating and had set her fork down.

“Injury. I was sidelined and didn’t want to be a desk jockey, so I got out.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Were you hurt badly?”

He popped a fry in his mouth and shrugged. “Was on a mission. Ran into some unexpected fire. Took a bullet to the gut. Didn’t hit anything vital, so it wasn’t life-threatening, but like with all Special Ops, if you don’t pass the physical, you’re out.”

“That seems rather harsh.”

He nodded but said, “If you’re not on your A-game, men get killed.”

She didn’t say anything, just stared at him so intensely, he had to ask, “What?”

She shook her head, dropping her eyes. “I just hate the thought of you having been hurt.”

The soft tone of her voice and the sincere expression on her face did something to his chest—a tightness formed that he couldn’t put a name to as he’d never felt it before. But he did know he wanted her eyes back. Wanted to see that expression in their depths. Wanted the pleasant feeling in his chest to grow.

“Hey.” He reached over and took her hand. “It happened a long time ago. I barely remember it.”

By her weak smile, he could tell she knew he was full of shit, but she went along with it anyway. “Right.”

He squeezed her hand. “Right.”

She squeezed his back and got back on topic. “Now, tell me how you met my brother.”

Jake chuckled. “I was running security at some big-wig celebrity party. I saw Nate standing alone in a corner and recognized him immediately. He appeared bored or wasted—I couldn’t tell—so I kept my eye on him.”

“I know it’s a thing in the industry, but Nate would never do drugs,” Tammy interjected.

“This I’ve come to learn, but I didn’t know that then. Anyway, people kept approaching him, but he had a way of getting rid of them fast. Until this one woman latched on. She didn’t get the hint, and I could tell Nate was getting frustrated.

“I’m not sure why, but something in my gut told me to help the guy out—and in the service, you learn to trust your gut. So, I approached, made up some BS story—I don’t even remember what now—and got him away. He was grateful. We talked for a bit, he asked for my card, and our friendship grew from there.”

By the end of the story, Tammy was smiling. A big improvement over her concerned expression. “Nate always speaks highly of you. I remember when I was going through my troubles a couple years ago, he’d said he had the perfect man for the job. And I guess he’d been right. It hadn’t taken you long to solve my problems. I don’t think I ever thanked you properly for that. My head hadn’t been in a good place.”

He squeezed her hand again, letting her know that he understood. “You finished?” He nodded at her plate. When he got an affirmative, he said, “Come on. I’ll show you around.” Grabbing up their trash, he dumped it in the garbage on his way out of the kitchen.

He’d only been a homeowner for a little over a year. Tammy hadn’t been far off base when envisioning where he lived. His last place had been just the shithole she’d been expecting.

“You have a lovely home,” she said once they reached the top of the stairs.

He’d taken her hand during the tour and he now led her down the upper-level hall. “It’s a work in progress.”

She looked surprised. “You’re doing the decorating yourself?”

He nodded. “In my free time.”

“Wow, now I’m even more impressed. The downstairs bath is beautiful.”

“Thanks. Is it unmanly to admit I’ve been watching HGTV whenever I get the chance?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Only if you do it while wearing a dress.”

He grinned at the twinkle in her eye. “No dress, but I have been known to wear a kilt a time or two.”

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