Page 143 of Tate
He should be out riding his motorcycle, Scarlett’s arms wrapped around his waist.
Instead, Ford was stuck at the after-party of tonight’s big political performances, in the conference suite of the Jackson campaign, country music and conversation winding out onto the balcony.
He didn’t know why his gut tightened as Scarlett’s prerecorded voicemail message came over the line. Again. “Leave a message, I’ll get back to you.”
His message couldn’t be left over the phone.
I need you, Red.
That truth had never felt more solid, more compelling than when he’d held their lives in his hands and turned to her. Her voice in his ear, soft, sure—yeah, he needed her.
He should have told her last night as he’d stood on her front steps. She still took his breath away in that black dress, and when she’d looked at him with such light in her eyes, laughing when he told her that she’d saved his life, again, he’d just wanted to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her to himself.
Taste that laughter.
You picked the right one, he’d said. But really he meant…Pick me. Right here, right now.And sure, tomorrow might be complicated, but she was worth it.
They could figure it out.
But maybe not until she passed her PRT. He knew what it felt like to need to focus on a mission, to not let anything distract him from the goal.
The breeze had swept her perfume his direction. He’d taken a breath, needing to put some space between them.
Good luck tomorrow, Red. I’m rooting for you. And yes, he was, but not without a sense of panic.
She could leave him.
Her gaze had followed him as he’d stepped off the porch and he nearly stopped, nearly tossed all his mission sense, closed the gap, and ran back up the steps.
Nearly lowered his mouth to hers, caution thrown to the night settling around them, nearly let go of his heart and kissed her.
The feeling could consume him, so he’d turned and fled to his truck.
But tonight…tonight was different.
I passed.He’d received her text this morning.
The words found his gut, settled there.
Maybe if she knew how much he needed her… Not that he wanted to hold her back, but shewasa part of the team. His team. And sure, he could work with anyone, but knowing that she was watching his back, that she’d break protocol to save his hide…
Even stick around when he held a bomb in his hands…
Maybe she was just exhausted after all her training. Ford should probably ditch the soiree and head over to her house.
Ford came in off the balcony, hanging up before leaving a message. He pocketed his phone into his suit pocket and headed over to the bar counter. His mother and Jackson’s team had retired, but Glo and her band had hung around, inviting Fordand his SEAL team as well as the rest of the Marshall brothers in for some much-needed downtime.
Nez and Sonny were sitting at the stools, drinking Cokes. Over the bar, CNN news played, muted.
Levi, Trini, Cruz, and Kenny were in a knot talking to Tate, exchanging stories—apparently Trini and Tate had been in Afghanistan at the same time, knew the same people.
Ford walked over to Knox, who was in conversation with Reuben and Gilly, talking about their honeymoon in Hawaii.
“Gilly talked me into taking a discovery scuba class,” Reuben said, his arm around his petite wife. “I saw a sea turtle, a shark, even a stingray.”
“Going to exchange your wings for iron lungs?” Ford said, trying not to be bugged by Scarlett’s silence.
His day had been consumed with security meetings and prepping for tonight’s speech, and by the time he’d been able to sneak away to call her, his call flipped over to voicemail.
