Page 25 of The Fixer and the Fugitive

“You’re prickly. I like that.”

She laughed. “You’re odd.”

His brows rose hopefully. “And do you like that?”

“No,” she said, but she was lying. Despite his past, despite the fact that he’d confessed to being a one-and-done-with-love type person, despite everything, he had kind eyes and a sincere smile, two things she didn’t realize were important until it was too late to look for them, until she’d given up.

“All I’m saying is you should think about it. How many times do you meet someone and share—hopefully mutual—attraction with the guarantee that nothing will come of it? We could fling and walk away, hearts intact.”

“What a temptingly shallow offer. My heart is warm all over with the thought of being trampled and thrown away by you.”

“So you’re, like, a forever kind of girl,” he mused.

“I’m a never kind of girl. You know those crows from that book they make kids read in high school English? Nevermore, that’s me.”

“Not to get too technically nerdy on you, but those were ravens. You can tell because the poem is literally called, ‘The Raven.’ And it’s by Poe.”

She pointed to her face. “This is me, not caring. Also, English is your second language. You should not know things about our literature. It’s obnoxious.”

Far from being offended, he grinned. “I know a lot about American history, too. It’s a particular interest of mine. Quiz me, I’ll impress you.” He crossed his hands, awaiting her questions.

“That’s becoming more doubtful by the moment,” she muttered, tossing the dishes into the sink with a clatter.

“Fine, then tell me something about you,” he commanded.

She remained mute, her back to him as she filled the sink with soapy water.

“What did you do for The Colonel?” he asked.

“Classified.”

“Secretary? Attaché?” he guessed, hoping to provoke her.

“Both. I was secretary to the attaché,” she returned, unperturbed. Better men than him had tried to poke at her, incorrectly guessing sexism would be her sore spot.

“Okay, you’re once again upgraded to adorable for being an adorable liar,” he said.

She was glad her back was to him so he couldn’t see her smile.

“You’re too short to be his personal pilot. Was it some kind of jester situation? Like you popped out whenever he needed a chuckle at your cuteness.”

“Yes. I’m ever so glad not to live in that cake anymore. Quite the mouse and roach problem, not to mention the ongoing diabetes.”

“You’re not easily provoked. Wait, were you…” he pressed his palms on the table and leaned forward. “Or perhapsareyou TheColonel’s therapist? Does he pop in for a visit when he’s about to go postal and you talk him down?”

She wanted to find a clever reply, but it was so funny she couldn’t tamp down her giggles as she tried to picture The Colonel asking anyone for mental help or advice. And if he ever decided to “go postal,” no one would ever find out because there would be no survivors.

“If you’re going to add giggling into the mix, I’m going to have to come up with a new term to describe you. There must be a sweet spot somewhere between adorable and super fluffball kitten.”

“How about ‘tiny annoyed psychopath,’” she suggested.

“Ding! There we go, although it’s kind of wordy. Let’s shorten it to Tap, it’s a timesaver.”

She faced him, soapy hand on hip. “Are you actually trying to make me believe that other terrorists found you intimidating?”

“I’m a grown human male,” he returned, causing her to sputter a laugh again as she faced forward.

“You’re a weirdo,” she said.

---