Page 47 of The Angel and the Agent

“What I meant was that women don’t have to naturally evolve into friendships. We sit down and talk about things on purpose. Let me show you how it’s done: What was your first job?”

“Lifeguard at the local pool.”

She rolled her eyes.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m picturing the hordes of teenage girls who tried to drown in your presence on a daily basis,” she said.

“There were a lot, and there was one legit almost drowning. He was a two-year-old little boy whose mom became distracted by another kid. All of a sudden I looked over and this boy was standing in water over his head, arms up, not thrashing, not moving, just standing there. And that’s what drowning looks like. So I jumped in, pulled him out, and gave him mouth to mouth while someone called an ambulance. He coughed up an ocean of water, but he was fine.”

“That’s amazing,” she said.

“It was my first taste of saving someone, and I was kind of hooked after that. I knew I wanted to do something in public service, something to help others.”

“Do you ever wonder if someday in heaven you’ll see all the people you’ve saved?” she asked.

“I spend more time worrying I’ll be somewhere else with all the people I’ve killed,” he admitted.

She petted his head, frowning.

“Hey, I just realized something. Last week Ridge said you’re twenty three. How is it possible you’re another year older?”

“I don’t know, but it keeps happening every year. I’m beginning to think it’s some sort of code or pattern,” she said.

“I missed your birthday, huh?”

She nodded.

“Ugh, I’m so sorry. I’m really bad with stuff like that. I feel terrible.”

“It’s fine. My therapist and I had a productive discussion for several hours about it, and I feel in time I’ll be able to move on,” she said, smiling.

“No, it’s bad. You made my birthday so fun, and I didn’t even talk to you on yours,” he said.

“Um, yes, you did,” she said.

He covered his face. “I’m the worst person in the world.”

“Ethan, some people are into birthdays, and some are not. It’s no big deal. My dad’s not into it. My mom has to twist his arm just to get him on the phone to say ‘happy birthday, love you, hon.’ Besides, I think I know a way you can make it up to me.”

He dropped his hands from his face, intrigued by her suddenly warm tone. “Yeah?”

She nodded and reached for his hand, holding it in both hers as she caressed it. “You could fly fifteen hours, jump out of a plane in the dead of night, rescue me from four armed guards, and lead me to safety.”

“Does this time count?” he asked.

“What am I, a used piece of meat? Of course this time doesn’t count. I’m going to need you to do it again.”

“You are so high maintenance,” he said. He brought her hand to his mouth and began kissing her fingertips, but the monkeys overhead grew restless at the movement. Sitting back, he let go her hand and resumed their game.

“What was your first job?” he prompted.

“Math tutor.”

“I would have been frigging Michelangelo if you had been my tutor,” he said.

“He wasn’t a mathematician,” she told him.

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