Page 2 of Dustin
“Whose secretary?” I say, playing dumb.
“The general’s secretary. What’s her name again? Oh, Clara. She’s been feeding you the information in return for sex.”
“I can’t confirm or deny that statement,” I say dryly.
“You better be careful, Dustin. If you play with fire, you’re liable to get burned,” he sings.
“It’s not like I'm sleeping with her to gain information or any shit like that. She just talks—a lot. And I happened to get some important details,” I grumble.
“All right, then. Whatever you say, man.”
I don’t say anything else after that, and we revert to silence for the rest of the drive. By late evening, we arrive in D.C. I drop Ethan off at the front entrance of the building before going to park my car.
But of course, fate plays me a shitty hand. The one thing I didn’t want to happen happened. Standing in front of the revolving double doors of our headquarters as I approach is none other than Madison Thrash.
I feel my chest tighten as I approach. She still looks the same and yet somehow different. It’s the first time I’ve seen her in five years, and it takes me a second to get re-attuned to her features. Blonde hair, hazel-colored eyes, and a body that’s all too sexy. She looks like a runway model, especially with her above-average height. And she has the confidence of a woman fully aware of how gorgeous she is.
For just one second, I think of turning and allowing her to head in first. But I’m not a coward. I continue walking forward. Just before she enters the building, she turns around. I don’t know if she sensed me or some shit like that, but once her eyes landed on me, they widened for a fraction of a second. Then her expression turns guarded.
Keep walking, Madison.
She doesn’t. She stays put until I’m standing directly opposite her in front of the entrance.
“Hey, Dusty Bun,” she greets.
I immediately cringe at the nickname.
“No, just no. That is not the first thing you say to me after five years.”
She smiles. A tiny smile that causes the dimple on her cheek to pop. It used to be my favorite feature of hers. I have dimples as well. But her dimple is only on one cheek, and I used to tease her about it endlessly.
“You don’t get to control what I can or can’t say, Dustin. You look great, though,” she says.
“Thanks. Wish I could say the same.”
I’m lying. She knows it. Madison never looks anything but great.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. How have you been?” she asks awkwardly.
My eyes narrow.
“How about we don’t try to pretend things are okay between us? I would prefer it if you didn’t speak to me at all. I don’t know what you’re doing in the States, but until you head off again, don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, or even think about me. I’m sure that shouldn’t be too hard for you.”
Her eyes turn stormy. I can tell she wants to say a few words of her own in retort. But just before she opens her mouth to speak, we’re interrupted by the arrival of Lucas, my team leader.
“What’s going on here?” he asks, walking up to the both of us.
“Nothing,” I immediately say.
He looks between the two of us and doesn’t say anything. Then he turns to her.
“Hey, Maddie,” Lucas greets, pulling her into a hug. “How have you been?”
She nods.
“I’ve been great. I need to see my dad. I’ll talk to you later,” she says to him.
After one last scathing look at me, she heads inside the building. I turn to Lucas.
