Page 5 of Controlled Chaos

Clara slid the napkin across the table, picked up her coffee, and headed for the door, pausing before she pushed it open. She glanced back at him before disappearing into the sea of faces on the crowded sidewalk.

Porter picked up his coffee and sipped. He was good at waiting for what came next, not that he’d ever had to wait long.

“George warned you that Ms. Bennett was going to be a handful,” Porter’s sister, Dakota, said, taking the seat that Clara had vacated.

“She turned me down.” The words made no sense, as if he was speaking a foreign language.

“Really?” Dakota said with humor in her voice. “I like her already. This is uncharted territory for you. Most women fall at your feet thanks to your attraction ability. I was sure when she kissed you that George was wrong.”

For a brief second, Porter had thought so too, until she uttered the word no woman had ever said to him before.

No.

Two letters, simple and finite. For now, but not for long. He needed her in ways she didn’t understand. “I was beginning to wonder until she told me no.” He leaned in across the table. “The barista didn’t even flirt with me.”

Dakota lifted a brow. “Well now, this really is a new development. Her not being affected by your charms is one thing, but her ability to block it from affecting others…” Dakota’s words trailed off as if she was collecting her thoughts as she glanced around the room before speaking again. “Now that Ms. Bennett is gone, all the women in here are staring at you. Some men, too.”

He didn’t look to see if Dakota was right. He’d spent years ignoring other people’s stares. They weren’t genuine. It was just part of who he was. He somehow commanded it like emitting some type of pheromone into the wild. “George must have known that Clara somehow could block my sexual allure.”

A knowing smile lifted on Dakota’s face. “Are you surprised? My husband only recruits the best for his team.”

“She’s exactly the type of woman I need for this assignment,” Porter announced, turning his gaze to the floor-to-ceiling glass window as if Clara would magically reappear.

“And you can’t use your love potion number 9 voodoo on her. You’re going to have to convince her to do your bidding,au naturel.” Dakota’s smile widened as she rose from the seat. “She’s quickly becoming my new favorite person. Come on, let’s go.”

Dakota headed for the door. Porter grabbed the napkin, and the world around him tunneled into far-away voices as the café and everything in it went hazy. He blinked to find his surroundings had changed.

Porter was standing in the garage from his childhood home. The smell of oil wafted to his nose. The sound of music from a radio sitting on the shelf drifted to his ears. The hood was propped open on his dad’s old beat-up truck. His dad slid out from behind the wheel and smiled. They were closer in age. The man, his father was at that point in his life and the age Porter was now.

For a minute, Porter thought it might be a memory. But it wasn’t. His heart clenched as he stared at his father’s familiar face.

Porter held his breath, afraid if he breathed too loud or sighed too long, the image might disappear.

His father’s gaze was knowing. Not gentle, not anything but the way he used to look at Porter when he was trying to convey that he believed in his son without having to say the words.

“Follow your gut, Porter. It’s never steered you wrong.” His father whispered words were filled with encouragement. The voice as familiar as his own was something he hadn’t heard in years.

Porter’s heart pounded against his ribs as he tried to make sense of the words.

Dakota called out his name. Porter blinked, and his father and the garage were gone.

The café around him came back in focus along with the scent of fresh brewed coffee and the quiet voices in conversation. Porter blinked once and then twice before closing his eyes again trying to recall the image and moment.

Nothing. Not even a trace outline of his dad’s face behind his lids.

He opened his eyes again and met his sister’s worried gaze. “Are you alright? You’re acting strange, even for you.”

“Dad,” Porter answered without thought. He glanced down at the hand-drawn symbols on the napkin and swallowed hard. Clara did this, but how?

“What about Dad?” Dakota asked. “Porter, are you okay?”

Was he? Porter slid the napkin into his pocket and nodded. “Yeah, sorry. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Dakota said.

“I am. I promise,” Porter answered, resting his hand on his sister’s back. He guided her to the door. The women in the café watched as he followed his sister, each looking deflated that he hadn’t stuck around. It was times like this that he wanted to scream that he didn’t want their attention, but he knew they weren’t putting the voodoo on him; it was him, putting it on them. His brother-in-law was right. Porter needed Clara, and getting her to agree was going to be half the battle. “Dakota, I need you to help me convince Clara. I’ve never been told no before.”

His sister slowed her walk and wrapped her arm around his elbow. “I’ll help you, but only because this is an important step that’s going to make your career.”

“Are you sure you aren’t doing it because your husband, the very special FBI agent George Fillpot, needs the win too. Otherwise, they’re disbanding his unit.”

Her gaze turned serious as she stared up into his eyes. “That too.”

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