Page 200 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

Mia gasps, scandalized but intrigued.

Sophia nearly chokes on her drink.

Rebel cackles, throwing her head back. “Oh my God. That’s genius. Why didn’t I think of that?”

Malia groans, shaking her head. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

Mia presses a hand to her chest, still processing. “Okay, but… how many?”

I smirk. “As many as he can handle before he comes.”

Sophia fans herself dramatically. “Blake is going to love this.”

Mia mutters something about losing her soul to Rigel’s stamina.

And just like that, a new challenge is born.

A beat of silence.

Then—Rebel snorts. “Jesus, we really are the worst, aren’t we?”

Malia raises an eyebrow. “Took you this long to figure that out?”

Jenna shakes her head, setting a tray down with a huff. “You know what I just realized? There is literally nowhere safe from you people.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, licking a bit of icing off my finger.

Jenna shoots me a flat look, then gestures vaguely toward the room. “I mean, we can’t even sit here and have coffee without the conversation devolving into ‘how many blowie push-ups does it take to make your man collapse in a heap of overstimulated bliss.’”

“To be fair, it’s a very valid topic of discussion.” Sophia taps a finger against her lips, considering. “As are all the creative places they fuck us. Training room floor, bed, shower, up against the wall in the armory,” Sophia counts off on her fingers. “It’s just part of the Guardian lifestyle at this point.”

“The Charlie team lifestyle,” Rebel corrects, though her eyes gleam with something that suggests she’s not nearly as aloof as she pretends to be.

Malia shakes her head, but I catch the way she bites her lip, curiosity evident in her expression.

“You know,” Jenna continues as she stacks freshly cleaned mugs onto the shelf above the counter, “I thought hiring Guardian women to run the coffee shop was the smartest call Malia and I ever made. But now?” She pauses for dramatic effect,glancing at Malia, who’s finishing a round of drinks at the espresso machine. “Now I’m starting to think it’s also the most cursed decision we’ve ever made.”

“Cursed?” I ask, amused, sliding a new tray of pastries into the display case. “How do you figure that?”

Malia snorts, handing a cappuccino off to a waiting operative. “She means cursed because none of you can show up anywhere on time, thanks to those sex-crazed men we’re all stuck with.”

“Exactly.” Jenna points a stirring stick at me like a weapon. “It’s like they’ve got a sixth sense for when we need to get to work, so they immediately start sabotaging us.”

“Oh, come on.” I laugh, rolling my eyes. “They’re not all like that.”

Malia arches an eyebrow at me. “You were late this morning because Hank and Gabe decided they’d rather keep you in bed than let you clock in on time. Am I wrong?”

I open my mouth, close it, then shrug unapologetically. “Okay, fair, but we all knew that wasn’t ending any other way.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Jenna claims, throwing her hands up. “They’re all like this. Carter’s the same way—swear to God, he comes home and keeps me up all night, tied to the bed.”

Malia laughs as she pulls fresh grounds into the portafilter. “To be fair, we don’t exactly fight them on it.”

“Obviously,” Jenna replies, smirking now. “But at this rate, we’re all going to be permanently five minutes late to everything and have to pretend it’s a personality trait.”

As Jenna prepares for the incoming lunch rush, the teasing continues to bounce around the group. Despite the morning’s chaos and everyone’s excuses for being late, the banter comes naturally—effortless—between all of us.

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