Page 92 of Tate
“Take another look, bro. Because you have that hot girl pining for you out there. And I can’t figure out how to get past the mess I’ve created with Scarlett.”
Oh?
Ford stood in the glow of the overhead light of the pantry. “What? Ma doesn’t have any health food?” He grabbed a bag of Doritos.
Tate hadn’t moved, but he raised an eyebrow.
“So,” Ford said, opening the bag and scoring a chip, “Scarlett is our FOB operations communicator when we’re in the field, and I’m radio communicator, field ops, so…she’s talking to me. And we have this rapport, see, and…we’re friends.”
“Mmmhmm.”
Ford threw the chip in his mouth. “She needed a ride to Idaho last week, so I gave her a ride.”
“Because it’s on your way to Montana.”
“Actually—”
Tate held up his hand. Grinned.
“Anyway, we’re driving, and on the way she tells me she wants to go into SEAL training?—”
“What? Seriously?”
Ford found another chip. “I know. They’re letting women in, and sure, I’m game for anyone who can be a solid operator. But…yeah, the idea of Scarlett there, beside me, or even on SWCC, in the heat of things…honestly, I’m not a fan.”
“We had a few women who tried to be Rangers. Brave, tough, smart. But in the end, the thought of them being captured and put through torture—it makes me sick.”
“Right?” Ford leaned a hip against the counter and dug in for another chip. “And then we get to her mother’s house, and she’s forty-three and has early-onset Alzheimer’s and can barely remember Scarlett.”
“Oh no.”
“Yeah, and her husband is a jerk, taking the money Scarlett sends for her mother and little brother. Now she thinks she should quit the military and help her mother.”
Ford finished the Dorito he held in his hand then rolled the bag up. “And I just want her to stop talking and go back to being the woman in my ear. And it feels so selfish, I’m making myself angry. Because I also really just want to kiss her, which would screw everything up and…”
“Wow. I feel a lot better. This tag team counseling is a great tactic.”
Ford just eyeballed him.
“Okay, what happens in Montana stays in Montana.”
Ford frowned.
“That’s all I got for you, bro.”
“I really expected more.”
“I told you. You don’t want to be like me. I have a couple of killers stalking Glo—or I used to think so—and meanwhile, I’m breaking promises like I’m throwing china at the wall.” He glanced out the window, and now Glo was standing up, again looking this direction. “And I don’t think I’m stopping anytime soon.”
“A couple killers?”
“The guys who bombed the arena in Texas. But according to RJ, there’s no connection. I’m back to speculation and some bad photos.”
Ford frowned.
“The important part here is that I’m so beyond my instincts, I’m not sure what to do. All I know is that when I’m with Glo, all that clutter of the past seems to fade, and she makes me think that everything will be okay. That I’m not a freakin’ mess and that maybe…yeah, that I could give myself permission for a second chance.”
Ford let a grin slide up his face and he glanced past Tate, out the window. “Or that some ops are worth the risk.”
