Spoon smiled at the commanding tone. "Later, bro."
Hanging up on the call, he pondered the situation, coming to the same conclusion as his brother. Their father wouldn't stop harassing him until he showed up on the doorstep and laid everything on the table once and for all. Even then, he couldn't be sure his father would respect his wishes to cease and desist. With a regretful shake of his head, Spoon picked up the book Riley had given him, and scanned the back cover. Interest piqued, he opened the book and commenced reading, eager for something to take his mind off one prickly thorn in his side.
Chapter 5
Loco stepped confidently through the front door of the gym only to freeze in place at the sight before him. In all the years of their friendship, never had he known Spoon to lean casually against a desk, flirt outrageously with the woman behind it, and wear a smile of true happiness. Sure, the ex-Green Beret knew his way around the fairer sex better than most, but for him to cull a pretty young lady from the herd before noon, and actually seem to enjoy the bantering, made for a significant event. His best friend normally lured only the most beautiful women to his bed, leaving the less striking for other men with less tact, looks, or charisma. The fact that Spoon chose to feast his attention on the gym's fairly average looking receptionist baffled him.
"Tonight or tomorrow?" The petite redhead perched on a stool.
"Either or both. We can hit that Mom and Pop malt shop again. Or, go more classy, lady's choice."
Stepping closer, Loco unashamedly eavesdropped.
They're dating? Since when? And why hasn't Spoon told me?
He could and would find out all the juicy details. After all, he had at least an hour long workout to poke and prod his buddy until Spoon relented enough to fill in several presently empty gaps. Besides, as an ex-Recon Marine, interrogation was one of many skills he'd acquired before joining the Wind Warriors.
"Who's this?" he interrupted, bumping shoulders to squeeze in beside Spoon.
Spoon glanced over. "Loco. Riley. Riley. Loco."
Loco returned her smile. "I've seen you working here before."
"For a while now, actually." She met his gaze for a long moment before her attention returned to Spoon.
"So, tell me. Are you dating this clown?"
She grinned. "If you are talking about the handsome, brilliant hunk next to you, then yes, we're working on dating."
Spoon chuckled while Loco shook his head. "Oh, man. You must have it bad," he muttered back to Riley.
"I consider it all quite good, actually."
"Sharp and witty, too," Spoon tossed out.
Unsure what to make of this latest development, Loco opted to get started on their exercise and pry the details from his friend as they went along. Loco nudged Spoon hard in the back.
"Come on, Romeo. Workout now, flirt later."
Marching to the first set of free weights, Loco watched with amusement as Spoon kissed Riley's hand before reluctantly leaving her side, as if his shoes had been soaked in maple syrup overnight and even now stuck to the cement floor with each step. Once he caught up, Loco couldn't help but tease.
"Infatuated, huh?"
Spoon rolled his eyes. "As if."
"Then what's up with the receptionist? We've seen her here dozens of times and you've never shown the least bit of interest. Hell, you just about toppled her over in the doorway a couple of days ago and she didn't register on your radar then."
He shrugged. "Did you know she's a published author?" When Loco shook his head, Spoon continued, "I saw her at a book signing and couldn't place her. Once I got to talking to her, realized where I knew her from, we just sort of clicked."
Bemused and happy for his best friend, Loco grinned. Maybe the little redhead was a keeper. "Clicked is good. I hope you're planning on taking her somewhere nice."
"Yep. I was thinking we'd run by, pick up a pizza, then head to my place to spend the night in bed."
Loco blinked and stared for a long moment. "Damn. I was about to kick your ass for stupidity."
Spoon chuckled. "Give me some credit."
"Yeah, well, you better quit exercising your jaws or we'll never get done." He peeked over his shoulder. "Besides, your woman keeps looking over here. I'm sure she's waiting to see you strut your stuff."
Looking back, Spoon smiled wide. "Then I had better give her a show." With that said, he headed toward the weights.
Chapter 6
Riley watched the front door with eager anticipation for Spoon to arrive. As much as she tried to remind herself of the previous flops when it came to relationships, the spark of eternal hope surged into a small flame, one that refused to extinguish easily. Perhaps that persistent belief that the man of her dreams could land in her life at the drop of a hat spurred her to write romance novels. After all, she could pour out her fantasies and wishes on the computer screen, giving her a tiny glimpse for what could be for those blessed to find a deep, everlasting love. If she couldn't experience it personally, she could live vicariously through her writing.
She checked her watch and sighed. Twenty more minutes until she could clock out and run away with Spoon for the evening. He opted to pick her up after work, then go out on their second date, mischievously hedging about their destination and his intentions, simply reassuring her that she would enjoy the adventure. So far, he didn't disappoint on their first date or the limited conversations since.
Spoon. The image of his muscular body and lip licking gorgeous looks came to mind. Why no woman snatched him up already, she didn't understand. Surely, ladies flocked to his side, begging for his attentions, yet they all came away empty-handed. What if she suffered the same fate? The thought sent a wave of sadness through her.
For the first time since they really met, a sliver of doubt entered her mind, allowing a torrent of questions to bombard her normal optimism and bright outlook. Why would a man with so much going for him suddenly take interest in her after bypassing her a hundred times without a second glance? When he could land a runway model, why did he ask her out, with full understanding the night would not end with sex? Suspicion coated her thinking like a blanket of ice covering the landscape after a dubious storm. What if he somehow discovered her past, her connections, and jumped on the opportunity to use her as a carpenter uses a crowbar to pry information or imagined riches from her? A shiver raced down her spine. He told her virtually nothing of himself, keeping his life veiled in shadows and secrets as a man hiding harsh motives might do.
How did any woman know the man she presently dated was truly an upstanding citizen? It's not like they wore sticky pads on their foreheads proclaiming them serial killers, cheaters, or selfish men simply out for themselves. Women dodged and plodded through the dating game every day, hoping and planning, heartbroken more times than not.
No guts, no glory.
Sucking in a deep breath, she shook the dark clouds of pessimism from her mind. Whatever Spoon happened to be, she felt comfortable with him whereas on other dates, she couldn't shake an edgy, apprehensive vibe. Besides, she hadn't exactly placed all her cards on the table with him when it came to her family connections, something she never spoke about as it changed other's perceptions and attitudes toward her. No. Everyone was entitled to a bit of privacy and surely if their relationship deepened, more details would appear, illuminating his life in a brighter hue.
She turned to find Spoon leaning casually on the reception desk, his gaze on her. Painted-on denim jeans molded to his physique as a black oxford shirt hung a bit looser, proving stylish and comfortable while showing off the hard earned muscle mass of his upper body.
"Oh, hi. I didn't hear you come in." A smile appeared as soon as she laid eyes on him.
"You were deep in thought, I think. Care to tell me all about those daydreams? Do they involve nudity and X-rated activities with me?" A wide grin covered his face as his eyes sparkled in sensual amusement.
Barely refraining from rolling her eyes, she shook her head. "One track mind, I swear."
"Every six seconds."
Jumping off her stool, she quickly collected her purse, slinging it over her shoulder before facing him once more. "Somehow I doubt you ever disappoint a woman."
"During a date or in bed?"
"In her daydreams," she teased, giggling when he grumbled under his breath. "Okay. I can vouch for the date, too. The other… time will tell."
Matching her smile, he held the door open for her, then led her to his waiting SUV.
"Where are we going again?" She snapped her seatbelt then looked over at him, wondering not for the first time what made him click.
He glanced over with an amused expression on his face. "Curious and impatient."
She snorted. "Well, yeah."
"You won't shoot many deer like that."
Her mouth fell open.
Shoot deer? I don't think so.
"Yes, I can shoot, but if I have to kill my own supper, I'll simply go vegetarian as of right now. If this date involves firearms, it better include targets and a firing range."
Chuckles carried over from the driver's seat. "You think I'm taking you to the back woods to hunt for food, then cook it over a fire?" Full blown laughter followed.
She bit her lip to keep from tittering right along with him, finding the glorious sound of his humor contagious and pleasant. Similar to the rumble of his baritone voice, the sound both held her attention while soothing away any worries or stress, leaving her with a feeling of safety and freedom to be herself in his delicious presence.
Pasting a haughty look on her face, she waved her hand. "I'm just saying."
"No living off the land, eating bugs, or sleeping in a tent in the middle of a blizzard. Got it." He flashed both dimples her direction. "You can shoot?"
"Yep. Even have my own gun—a Desert Eagle."
His eyebrows shot up and he whistled low. "You have a dezzy?" At her nod, he continued, "Not typically a woman's choice of weapon."
"Well, I'm not a typical woman." Riley lifted her chin while grinning impishly.
She'd noticed the vague outline of the shoulder holster under his shirt as he'd stood at her desk earlier. Growing up with a politician father, she'd frequently seen the same type of leather gear hidden beneath jackets, shirts, even pants on the many security personnel who had accompanied them on outings to charity events and campaign appearances.
The fact that Spoon carried concealed solidified her belief that he stood on the side of good and vanquished her early uncertainties. Few average citizens bothered to purchase upscale holsters to hold their weapons just beneath a layer of clothes, even the ones with a license to carry concealed. While criminals and those less concerned with laws, regulations, and licenses probably walked around locked and loaded, they normally didn't take the pains to camouflage their gun nearly so well. The tantalizing and informative clue told her much: violence didn't faze him, he stayed prepared for whatever came, could handle just about anything, and more than likely held some secretive government position.
"I noticed." Guiding the vehicle into the parking lot, he quickly found an empty space, and turned off the engine. "We're here."
"The Aquarium?" She popped her seatbelt loose, peering through the front windshield at the enormous building before them. "I've never been here before."
Gracefully, he slipped from his seat and walked to the sidewalk, beeping the doors locked when she joined him. "Great food. Entertainment. And, I figured we could walk around after we're finished." He reached out his hand, the corners of his mouth turning up when she intertwined her fingers in his.
* * * *
Spoon studied the woman across from him. While she didn't radiate stunning beauty like most of the women he chose, she carried something more vibrant—a combination of sharp wit, pretty face, delicate curves in all the right places, and an upbeat attitude on life that carried over to everyone around her. She might tease and banter, but his gut told him she would stand steady in a confrontation, probably end up kicking someone's ass or shooting them with her fifty caliber handgun that would knock down a water buffalo. Interesting and easy on the eyes. A combination he found alluring and captivating.
"You should have tried the fish. It's delicious."
She poked a cherry tomato in her mouth. "I can't eat fish when their live cousins are staring at me with their mouths open in horror as I eat."
He chuckled. Leave it to her to come up with such nonsense.
"You remind me of a shark. Toothy, hungry, and mysterious."
He grinned at the offhanded compliment. "A sleek and powerful predator. I can identify."
Riley rolled her eyes. "I meant a hammerhead shark, you dolt. With eyeballs out to here." She spread her hands as wide as the corner table they presently occupied, right next to a wall of water filled with tropical fish and a scarce turtle or two. Brightly colored fish floated by now and again, seeming to return the stare of the humans who dined and watched avidly a small artificially contained segment of nature in action. The turtles basked near the top, taking advantage of heat lamps to sun themselves while reclining on the topside of rocks just above the surface of the water, seemingly unbothered with all the rapt attention, noises, and smells from a fairly busy dinner crowd.
He arched an eyebrow. "This coming from a clown fish, darting in and out of the anemone as the big fish float by."
"I ain't no dummy." She spoiled the serious look by bursting out in giggles. "You have a wicked sense of humor."
He shrugged. In all honesty, he never thought of himself as amusing and most of the time didn't find much to laugh at in a life dictated by his current dangerous occupation. Something about Riley brought out the humor in him. Another trait he admired in the petite redhead. Stabbing another chunk of meat, he lifted it to his mouth.
"I'll have you know I look horrid in stripes. One reason I'm determined to stay out of jail and away from refereeing youth sports." She huffed playfully after taking a drink of her water.