Page 87 of Strangers in Love

I pushed that thought aside. Things would change now. We’d both graduated. We’d experienced the world in a new way. I’d survived something that could have been much worse but hadn’t been easy. I’d shown Freedom that I was a woman who was capable of going after what she wanted, but also one who could admit when she was wrong. I’d stayed here after my rescue because I’d known my parents needed me where they could see me, not because I’d needed them to take care of me.

When we finally talked about things, it would be as equal adults deciding what their next step into the adult world would be. Eating leftovers and making plans sounded like a great way to spend the weekend. Mom and Dad usually did their Christmas shopping on the Saturday after Thanksgiving, so Freedom and I could even talk while they were gone so we didn’t feel like we were taking away family time from them.

At least, that’s what I’d thought we could do until five minutes ago when Freedom had announced that she was going to leave early tomorrow morning to go back to Stanford. I felt a bit better when she said it was because she had some things to discuss with Dr. Ipres, but I was honestly a little hurt that she hadn’t told me her plans, if for no other reason than wanting to know if I wanted to ride back to Stanford with her or if I’d be staying in L.A. a little longer.

Before I could even broach the subject, though, she said she was going to bed and left me in the living room by myself, wondering what in the world was going on with her. I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath. I refused to let one little incident ruin what had been a great day.

I had a tradition for Thanksgiving night, and I intended to keep it. Every year, I went to bed fairly early and read a Christmas romance. Or two. I’d never been a fan of watching Hallmark movies, but I did like reading their equivalent, especially when I’d been in school and the required reading had been dull and tedious.

I’d already downloaded one to my Kindle, so all that was left was to shower, put on my comfy monkey pajamas, and dive right into Erika Summers’Santa’s Muse. I knew that Erika Summers was actually a man using a female pseudonym, but he definitely didn’t fall into the stereotype of men writing women. His first book,Heat of the Sun, had been my first foray into erotic romance, and I’d been hooked ever since. The majority of my masturbatory fantasies from that time on had involved scenes and male protagonists from his books.

I was four chapters in when my phone rang, startling me. Essentially everyone who would’ve called on Thanksgiving was in this house, and I didn’t recognize the number, but curiosity had me answering it, anyway. Perhaps it was one of the other hostages who’d heard I’d reached out to Hammond.

“Hello?”

“Aline?”

I shouldn’t have been able to recognize the voice from a single word, but I did. I also had no clue why he was calling. “Eoin? Is everything okay?”

“Oh, yes…I mean, no…” He sighed. “Not exactly.”

I set down my Kindle. “Thanks for clearing that up.”

“I called to apologize for how I behaved before. I was an ass. A rude ass.”

“Just a bit.” I smiled. “But I think I figured out why. You were going to save the other hostages, and the group in Iraq that had them was connected to something bad in your past.”

“You’re good. Maybe you should be a detective.” There was a wry, teasing tone to his voice that I instantly liked.

“I talked to Hammond,” I explained. “One of the hostages you rescued. He was on the news. When he told me about what’d happened, he described…you.”

I hoped Eoin wouldn’t notice that slight hesitation. I had no doubt he knew the most distinguishing feature that Hammond had mentioned, but neither of us needed to spell it out.

“I couldn’t tell you what we were doing,” Eoin said. “We weren’t there officially, and none of us are still in the military, but if Iraq wanted to make a big deal about it, they could. I shouldn’t really be saying even that much.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I imagine you have to deal with a lot of confidentiality rules.”

A few seconds of silence followed, but before I could drop a hint that the call could end, he spoke again.

“Are you in Stanford or still in L.A.?”

“L.A., for a little while more, anyway.” Then it was my turn to ask, “What about you? Are you outside the city with family?”

“I’m at my parents’ place in San Ramon right now, but I’m heading back to L.A. with one of my brothers tomorrow.” Another pause, but this one wasn’t quite as long or as uncomfortable. “If you’re going to still be there on Saturday, I was wondering if you might want to go out. With me. On a date.”

I was glad he couldn’t see my face at the moment because my mouth was hanging open while I processed. Fortunately, it didn’t take me long enough for things to become awkward.

“Yes.” I bit my bottom lip in embarrassment at how eager I’d sounded. A bit more casually, I added, “I’d like that.”

“Good. Me too.” Another few seconds passed before he asked, “Did you have a good Thanksgiving?”

“I did. Obviously, we had a lot to be thankful for.” I relaxed back into my pillows. “How was yours?”

“Good,” he said. “Everyone was there. My whole family.”

I laughed. “You know, I could say my whole family was here too, and it’d be the truth, but now I know that those two things are as different as apples and oranges. How many of you were there?”

He chuckled, and the sound slid over my skin like something warm and soft. I shivered, imagining what it would be like to feel the vibration while snuggled against his side. His arms around me, his body firm and solid.

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