Page 55 of Nuclear Option (Owens Protective Services)

“Unless it’s me. I don’t have balls,” she grinned. “Seriously, you look tired. You should take a nap.”

“Would you be able to do that? I’ve been running for years and I’m finally on the right track to finding out how to take the governor down because of OPS. I can’t sit back and let someone else handle everything.”

“All our other clients do,” she explained.

“Yes, but I’m not your other clients.”

“Right,” she grinned. “You’re Cash’s girlfriend. It’s totally different.”

I flushed bright red, shaking my head at her. “I’m not his girlfriend. I’m…”

“You’re his girlfriend,” she reiterated. “Trust me, he had a long talk with us about how important you were to him.”

“He did?” I asked, a little surprised by that. He didn’t seem like the type to do something like that.

“Okay, that’s a lie. But we all know it’s true. He called his lawyer yesterday and gave you power of attorney over his medical decisions.”

My jaw dropped, but then I looked at her warily. “Are you messing with me again?”

“Totally, but that doesn’t mean that it’s not true. Obviously, there would need to be paperwork signed, but it’s only a matter of time before he makes this legal in some way.”

“Rae, just because you think it will happen doesn’t mean it will. He’s a great guy, and I really like him, but we barely know each other.”

“What more do you need to know? He’s attracted to you, wants to take care of you, and he pretty much refuses to leave your side. Is there something else you need?”

“Well…I…” I was grasping at straws to come up with examples of what I needed. The fact was, Cash and I hadn’t spent any time together. And a relationship created out of chaos wouldn’t last, not when the dust settled and there was the boredom of everyday life. “I don’t know how he eats his eggs,” I finally said.

“And you need that for a relationship to work.”

“Well…yeah.”

“He likes them cooked. Next question?”

“What do you meancooked?”

“I mean he’s a man and as long as they’re cooked, he’ll eat them.” She quirked an eyebrow at me. “So, what else ya got?”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I decided I’d play her game. “What’s his favorite thing to wear? Does he like Christmas ham or turkey? And if he could have one present in the world, what would it be? Has he ever considered growing a beard?”

“He wears tactical gear—all the time. Don’t try to get him out of it unless it’s for a meeting. He would take ham over turkey any day of the week, and if he got only one present, it would be a gun. As for the beard, he’s never grown one out fully, but he has had a very peculiar mustache.”

I blinked at her quick answers, stunned she knew all that. “Do you have a picture?”

She grinned and flipped open her computer, then found a file that showed dozens of photos. I snatched the laptop out of her hands and pulled it closer, looking at all the pictures.

“What is this?” I asked, scrolling through them.

“It’s my blackmail folder.”

“Why would you need to blackmail anyone?”

“Because I work with them, and sometimes you need to knock them down a peg or two. See IRIS? That was during his mullet phase. I’ve been saving that one for a particularly rainy day.”

“Why do you call him Iris? He’s not at all feminine.”

“It’s not the name. It’s an acronym.”

“For what?”

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