Page 17 of A Moment Never Forgotten
Berit wasn’t sure if she and John would’ve worked out as husband and wife, but as she was moving out of the apartment after graduation, she’d found a small, yet beautiful, diamond ring. She’d loved John and had often told Mak about his father. She’d saved the ring. Maybe someday their son would want to use it.
“I’m so sorry that happened to you.” Micah’s statement brought her out of her thoughts.
She waved her hand. “That was a long time ago.”
Zala plunked a huge round metal platter in the middle of the table then placed glass plates in front of each of them. “Ready for another round of drinks?”
Micah smiled up at her. “I think we’re good. Thank you.”
Berit tore a small piece of the spongy pancake-like bread off the bottom and spooned several items onto it folding it taco style. “It’s so much easier if you eat with your fingers.”
Micah laughed. “When I was in the country we ate with our fingers because we didn’t want to get the utensils dirty. In the desert, where we were, water was too precious to waste on dirty dishes.” He followed her lead. “So, this is really the way we’re supposed to eat this?”
“Absolutely.” Berit then explained what was in each pile on the platter. She was enjoying Micah’s company much more than she had expected. It felt like a real date.
She and Micah had clicked and that was so very, very rare for Berit. She genuinely liked this man. There was so much more she wanted to know about him, not as part of the mission, but as a man. He had piqued her interest. On a personal level, she enjoyed his company. Spying on him, and his friends, didn’t feel right.
Chapter Seven
As they finished their meal, Micah didn’t want the evening to end. It had been the first time in a long time, maybe ever, that he had enjoyed the company of a woman over a private meal with zero expectations for sex later. The exception, of course, was Elizabeth and Teagan, but they were friends. Tonight had been so different. Berit didn’t fall into either of those two categories. Nor was this what he would call a date.
When Berit rose from her seat, he automatically stood. Etiquette classes at the Naval Academy had taught him to be a gentleman. He grabbed her coat and held it out for her to slide into.
“I feel like I did most of the talking during supper.” She grabbed the shopping basket and handed him his bread. When he looked around for Zala, Berit must’ve realized he was expecting her to bring the bill. “We pay at the counter when we check out. Tonight is my treat, though. I asked you to join me.”
The idea of a woman paying for his meal rankled. When he reached for his wallet in his back pocket, his coat inched up.
A feminine gasp came from the table behind him where two obvious friends had chatted in low tones since arriving eighteen minutes ago.
Fuck. She must’ve seen my gun.He turned his head and glared. That practiced facial expression had made trained SEALs cower. One woman quickly turned her head and concentrated on her food. With the opposite reaction, the woman across the table from her gave him a slow, hungry grin.
He understood their surprise. Armed civilians were very few and far between. Except for the lack of a prevalent badge, he could be a police detective, or a member of any number of federal agencies which mandated their agents carry weapons.
It had been several years since Micah had worked at the Pentagon and DC and carry laws had changed. He didn’t give a shit what laws were on the books, he was going to carry a weapon everywhere, all the time. The stripes he wore on his shoulder boards, the eagles on his collar, and the Trident on his chest made him a target. He refused to go undefended.
When his gaze returned to Berit, she was still frowning at the women. He wondered if she was armed, and if so, where she kept her weapon. Even though she’d taken off her winter coat, her suit jacket remained on. He bet she wore a back holster, like his. He glanced at her ankles trying to see if she had another there. He did.
As they walked through the grocery store toward the front counter, Berit looked agitated.
“Is something wrong?” Micah thought everything had gone well.
“Sometimes I just don’t understand women,” she announced.
Micah laughed. “You and ninety percent of the male population. What brought on that statement?”
She stopped in the middle of an empty aisle and studied his face. “Did you not notice the look that woman gave you?”
“The one who almost screamed when she saw my gun?” Of course he’d seen her. He could tell you every person in that room and their one to ten threat level. No doubt he was jaded by his missions, especially those to the Horn of Africa, but there had been several level nines that he kept his eye on in between bites.
“No, not that twit, the blonde with a bad dye job.” Berit was funny in the same blunt way as Teagan and Elizabeth. Their actions and comments were closer to what his male friends would say than any woman in that same situation. He liked it.
“I saw her.” Micah waited to hear Berit’s next comment.
“She stripped you naked with her eyes. Women don’t accept that treatment from men, so why do men accept it from women?” She sounded offended by the whole incident yet curious.
He didn’t want to scoff at her question, but he found it interesting that she was insulted for him. She deserved a serious answer. “I’ve found that women react one of two ways when they discover I’m carrying a gun. The first type is scared to death. I have no idea if they think I’m going to use it on them, or if they believe I’m going to shoot someone, and they’ll witness blood and guts and gore. The second kind is fascinated, some to the point of even stimulated.” He’d dated one woman who admitted that seeing him wearing his weapon made her wet and more than just a little bit wild. She wasn’t kidding. Although she was an awesome lay, she was an idiot. He was sure that her IQ didn’t reach triple digits. When he caught her touching his holstered weapon, he ended the relationship fearing she might just be crazy enough to use it on him.
“And for that appreciative look she gave me, I can tell you what most men think, especially men of a certain age. They’re all thinking to themselves;yeah, I’ve still got it.” He pumped his fist into the air.
