Chapter 1

 

The plan had been checked, double checked and checked again. Every contingency had been calculated, examined and then improved upon until everything was airtight. With a nod, the man gave his approval, and the countdown began.

30 days

Today was one of the worst days ever.

Annabeth didn't know what she had done to piss off the karma gods, but here she was, living the dream. Maybe they felt she had been a little too lucky in life lately, or perhaps they just didn't like gingers today, but either way, it was obvious she was having an extremely crappy day.

She glanced down at the broken key in her hand and then to the other half barely peeking out of the lock in her door. What else will go wrong? Staring at the window pane, she contemplated just breaking the glass to get into her condo but discarded the idea immediately. With her luck, she wouldn't be able to get it fixed quickly, and she'd come home to a cleaned-out house. Annabeth didn't live in the worse part of Atlanta, but it wasn't the best either, and she was very attached to her possessions.

"Annabeth?"

Annabeth whirled around and pressed her hand against her chest, panting heavily. "Lord sake, Ms. Clara, you about gave me a heart attack."

Seventy-something resident cat lady, Clara Fisher stared at her neighbor. "Are you alright dear?" She glanced at the front of Annabeth's clothing. "Dear heavens, what in the world happened to you? It looks like you got into a fight with Smokey, the Bear and lost."

A dark gray ball of fluff affectionately named Precious mewed her welcome as she wove around Annabeth's feet. Reaching down, she let her fingers run over the smooth fur. Gollum sat behind his mistress cleaning his white and black mottled fur, and Samwise watched from the cracked door beside him. It still tickled Annabeth that her elderly neighbor loved the J.R.R. Tolkien classics. They often had discussions centered on the books. However, even their mutually favored subject was not enough to temper her mood. Looking down, Annabeth barely kept the overwhelming desire to throw something in check. Black burn holes dotted the front of the Kelly green two-piece suit, and a huge brown wet stain decorated the entire outfit. Her favorite go-to outfit was ruined. She stood and faced her neighbor. "Yes'm," she sighed heavily. "I'm having a little bit of bad luck today." The words tumbled out of her mouth in one long diatribe.

"I woke up late because my alarm didn't go off on time, so I had to hurry to get ready. I had an appointment with a potential new client this morning, and since I was going to be late, I called her and let her know. Considering the name of her book is Taking Control of the Uncontrollable, she wasn't happy, but was still willing to meet with me. The traffic was bumper to bumper on the interstate, and the vehicles were going seventy-five miles an hour, which scares me half to death. After all this time driving in Atlanta, you'd think I'd be used to it, but it still bothers me. You know you can’t slow down, or they will run slap over you. So, to get my nerves under control and because it's a beautiful day, I had the roof down. Next thing I know, some Bozo in front of me throws a cigarette butt out his window, and it lands in my lap. Sparks went everywhere. I looked like one of those huge sparklers you get on the fourth of July. I was slapping at myself, trying to put myself out, swerving all over the place. It's a wonder I didn't wreck and kill myself right then and there! I guess this suit or the chemicals the dry cleaners use was flammable because, I caught on fire, big as you please. Only thing I had to put it out with is a half-full cup of coffee from yesterday that was still sitting in the cup holder. By the time I got the fire out and drove onto the shoulder of the road, an officer came up behind me. He'd seen me swerving all over the road like I was high on Aunt Helen's spiked apple cider on New Year's Day. I told him what happened, but I guess he was having a bad day also because he didn't even flinch. Instead of having sympathy for me, he gave me a ticket for reckless driving. After he left, I decided to call my client to reschedule, only to realize I couldn't find my phone." Annabeth laid her head back against the wall and slowly banged it. "It took me ten minutes to find my cell wedged between the seats and call her but by then she had decided I wasn't a good fit and is going to another agent. I finally got home and broke the key off in my door. With the way my day has gone, it's a wonder I'm not in a ditch with my throat cut by a flying sandwich wrapper."

"Lord a mercy! Did you tick off one of them voodoo people the last time you were in Nawlins?"

Annabeth shook her head. "I don't think so. I try my best always to be nice to people. My mama would skin me six ways to Sunday if I were ever rude to anyone."

"Your mama raised you right." Ms. Clara patted Annabeth's arm soothingly. "Call the management company. They'll send someone over lickity-split to fix that lock for you. I have a feeling the day is going to be much better very soon."

"Gosh, I hope so." Gratitude swept through Annabeth as she pushed away from her door. "Thank you, Ms. Clara, I apprec..." the last of the word disappeared as she lurched forward, her foot caught under the cute entry rug lying on the floor. It had been a gag gift from friend and client, Joselyn Chambers last Christmas. On it was a picture of Lionel Richie with "Hello, is it me you're looking for?" written underneath. It still cracked her up every time she saw it. However, today it seemed to grab her by the shoe and throw her down on the floor. Twisting to keep from taking out Ms. Clara with her, she landed hard on her knees and face-planted in the hallway.

"My gracious! Annabeth are you hurt?"

Rolling over to sit, she surveyed the damage. Both knees had carpet burns, and her wrist ached. Moving it slowly, she shook her head. "It doesn't look like anything is broken except maybe my pride." Raising her hand, she rubbed her chin and checked her fingers. She had a scrape that was bleeding. Letting out a sigh, she drew her feet up and then let out a cry of dismay. "And my Miu Miu heels. Dang it!" She leaned over, grabbed the two-inch wedge in her fingers and looked at it forlornly. "They were still new. I got them the last time I was in California. I've never had designer shoes before."

Ms. Clara studied Annabeth a moment as she sat on the floor and fingered the remains of her $700 shoes. "Don't move from that spot. I think it's safer for everyone. I'll call the management company for you and light a fire under them to get on over here now." She disappeared into her apartment. Annabeth heard what sounded like whispering.

"Are you alright in there, Ms. Clara?" she called out.

"Oh, I'm fine, dear," she answered and appeared with a cordless house phone in her hand. "I have it set up as speed dial number three on my telephone, right after my worthless son, James, and my lawyer who's also named James and equally worthless. While I'm taking care of this, you call that handsome young man that's been making you smile this last year. The one with all the muscles and the twinkle in his eye that makes me remember my sweet Henry, God rest his soul. Lord, I miss that man. He got us thrown out of a drive-in movie once. I don't expect you remember what those are? Drive-in movies? Henry loved to take me there, especially after James was old enough not to go along if you get my meaning?" She wiggled her white eyebrows suggestively.

Annabeth didn't want to think about what trouble the older woman had done to warrant eviction from a movie. Instead, she listened as Clara contacted the company who promised to send someone over immediately.

"Now, that's done." Ms. Clara placed the headset on the table next to the door. "It's your turn. Go on and call your honey. I promise you; it'll make you feel better." Ms. Clara picked up Annabeth's cell phone from where it had landed when Annabeth fell and held it out.

Annabeth looked at her phone and shook her head. "Hick’s just a good friend." Yeah, a good friend - one with an intimate twist. They were dating but in a completely casual manner. At thirty-three, Annabeth knew she was just this side of being a cougar by seeing twenty-eight-year-old Levi "Hick" Salter. Quite honestly, she wasn't sure what he saw in her. He was a sculpted Adonis with dirty blonde hair, caramel brown eyes, a square jaw and the cutest dimples you ever saw. Of course, his nose was a bit too wide and his brow a tad too heavy to make him model perfect, but that was alright with her. He was still hotter than an Atlanta sidewalk in August. Not to mention, he was fit, which was only right for a badass Navy SEAL. She, on the other hand, was at least fifty pounds past what was socially acceptable, red hair that looked almost orange in the sun, green eyes and a fair complexion dotted with freckles, all courtesy of her Irish grandmother's genes. She had learned a long time ago to love herself and turn a blind eye to those who would make her feel inadequate. Being with Hick did more to booster her self-worth than anything else.

Ms. Clara pushed the telephone into Annabeth's hands. With a grin, she tapped the surface with one gnarled finger. "Go ahead and call him. Leave a message. Everything will be much better afterward. Lord knows just hearing that young stud talk gets my knickers in a twist. He has that deep voice that has all kinds of promises and none of them safe for church. If I were fifty years younger, I'd find me one of those boy toys just like him. The excitement would probably do me right in, but it'd take the mortician a week to pry the smile off my face."

"Ms. Clara!" Shock froze Annabeth’s fingers to the cell.

Her neighbor laughed and leaned in whispering conspiratorially. "As they say, snow on the roof but a fire in the furnace. Now go on, call him. You won't regret it."

Her fingers ran over the smooth surface several times. The screen flashed to life, and Annabeth saw one of their puzzles. It was their thing - they sent each other emojis that represented a well-known book or movie. So far, this round was at a stalemate.

Hick: That one was too easy. Princess Bride. "I don't think it means what you think it means." Try this.

Annabeth studied the images for a moment. There were two faces with fangs and yellow eyes followed by an old fashioned fountain ink pen. She furrowed her brow and whispered to herself. "Twins... Two.... Dual Pen? No... those look a little monster-like." Then it hit her. "Monsters Inc.," she murmured and smiled. She loved this game, and playing it with Hick made the distance lessen. She'd reply to the message later when she had another puzzle ready for him. That way, he would get it when he returned from his mission.

"Go on, dear."

Making up her mind, Annabeth climbed to her feet and leaned against her door. Pressing Hick's name, she chewed her bottom lip as she waited for his voicemail to pick up. Her breath hitched as she heard the bluesy sounds of Ray Charles warbling "Georgia on My Mind" wafting from the apartment next door. Hick used it as her ringtone ever since the night of Joselyn's wedding. One of her fondest memories was of him singing it to her in his rich baritone as they swayed across the dance floor at the reception. He had requested the tune specifically for them, and since then, it had become "their song." But, why would it be coming from Ms. Clara's place?

Her mental question was answered as six foot of muscular Navy SEAL, all dressed in camouflage and looking much sexier than a man had a right to, stepped out of the doorway. Dropping his duffle to the floor, he arched one sun-bleached eyebrow at her and winked. "Hey, Georgia, you've been on my mind," he growled sexily.

"Hick!" She screeched in shock. Then his arms were open, and she leaped into them. Burying her face in the crook of his neck, she whispered, "I thought you weren't going to be able to get away for awhile."

Sliding his fingers through her red tresses, he placed a sweet kiss on her forehead. "We got some unexpected time for a few days, and I couldn't think of anyone else I would rather spend it with. Your neighbor saw me sitting out here waiting for you and came up with a way to surprise you. She was going to order a pizza and let me deliver it, but you seemed to need a little TLC instead. I hope that's okay?"

Normally, unexpected time meant something happened. Annabeth didn’t ask because she knew enough that Hick couldn't tell her anyway. His missions were all highly classified and extremely dangerous. Instead, she rose up on her toes, planted her hands on his rugged cheeks and smiled through the tears that threatened to fall. "It's better than okay," she whispered.

"I'm sorry you had such a horrible day. I'm hoping I can make the rest of it a whole lot better?"

"It's already better," she murmured as she took in his features. Her heart was beating a million miles an hour and joy flowed through her veins. He had shown up completely unexpectedly. She knew she couldn't let her mind make more of it than just a booty call at best, but damn was she glad to see him. "If I had known you were coming, I would have rearranged my appointment and met you at the airport. You caught me with my drawers showing."

With a chuckle, he dove in and devoured her lips like he was dying of thirst and she was the last drink of cold water on the planet. Neither heard the door to Ms. Clara's apartment close. They were too lost in the moment of rediscovering each other. It had been too long since they had last been together and Annabeth's hands and lips were making up for lost time.

She was just about to say the hell with propriety and unwrap Hick right there in the breezeway of her apartment when the sound of a throat clearing on the landing broke them apart. With a sheepish grin, the management company custodian slipped by them and quickly had the lock fixed.

As Hick picked Annabeth up and walked her through the door with her squealing and laughing, she realized something fundamental.

Today was one of the best days she had ever had.