I dreamt of people I loved and lost, people I’d thought I’d saved, people I’d damned. When those visions finally decided to retract their claws and let me get away, the sun was already up. That was something positive, even if it meant I overslept. It was hard to wake up in the middle of the night after having those kinds of dreams and stare into the darkness, all alone, with nothing to reassure myself. With the sun up, at least I could get started with my day. It was too hot already to go for a jog, but I made do with some pushups and sit-ups to get my blood pumping, then a shower to wash whatever remained of the bad dream out of my system. They were just a part of life now, a little souvenir I got to keep after my Navy SEAL days were over.
It wasn’t until I was pulling on my jeans to go over to the worksite for Chuck and Haley’s new house when I remembered about the mysterious woman who had been asking for me at the bar. And that was only because her business card fell out of my pocket and slipped under my bed.
“Aw, come on,” I grunted, bending down to retrieve the card and pulling out a dust bunny about the size of an actual bunny along with it. “Gross.”
For not the first time, I considered hiring a cleaning service. I knew a couple of places in town where I could get a deep cleaning for the place for cheap. I only resisted because it felt like a man-child kind of thing to do. If I couldn’t take care of myself, of my own home, why should I be expected to help other people build the homes of their dreams? It was just so easy to forget that dust collected under things in addition to on the surface of things.
I looked at the card. Amy Ovalle. A phone number. An email address. It was strangely vague for a business card. There was no address, no way of knowing where she was from. There was no profession included, no company logo. No way to figure out what she might want from me, a realization that sent a spike of anxiety right through me.
And that was a funny feeling, being nervous about a woman I’d never met before.
I didn’t want to call her, but I didn’t want to wait on it, either. The longer I waited, the more anxious about it I would be. The best thing to do would be to just get whatever this was over with. Hell, who knew? Maybe I had a rich distant relative who had died with no heirs, and I had inherited a considerable sum of money. I didn’t know what I would do with a lot of money, especially since I didn’t need a lot to be happy, but that was the most positive thing I could think of as the phone rang and rang.
“Hello? This is Amy.”
I swallowed and almost choked on my own saliva. “Hi, Amy. This is Sloan Norris. You’ve been looking for me.” I laughed, marinating in my own awkwardness. “Sorry. That sounded kind of cryptic and weird.”
“Well, it’s true,” she said, her voice bright. “I have been looking for you. Your friends at the bar gave you my card, obviously?”
“Yeah,” I said, examining the rectangle of cardstock again like I might have missed something on it. “That’s how I’m calling you.”
“I wanted to meet with you,” she said. “Is there a time and a place that would be convenient for you?”
I hesitated. “Well, I’m about to go to work right now.”
“Oh, where do you work?”
“I’m an electrician.”
“Interesting.”
I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It doesn’t mean anything. Or, I don’t know, it means you’re really good at circuits, or something. Or good with your hands.”
“So I can’t meet you right now,” I said, after a moment’s pause. “Because work.”
“Right. How about this evening? Around seven, maybe? We could get a drink at the bar.”
“No,” I said quickly. “I mean, maybe that’s not such a good idea.”
“Why?”
“Um…” Because all my crazy friends were there. Because if she was as beautiful as Jack and Ace said she was, they wouldn’t let me hear the end of it, no matter what the reason for us meeting was. Because I had no idea what any of this was about, and what if she blindsided me? If the best-case scenario was a sudden windfall of cash, the worst case scenario was a surprise child from a random hookup or getting sued. “What is this about again?”
“I’d rather talk about it in person, if that’s all right with you,” she said.
“So…good news, or bad news?”
“Neither. Or both. I’m not sure. I guess it depends on your perspective.”
“At least I’m not the cryptic one anymore.”
“So, if you don’t want to meet at the bar…”
“It’s just because the clientele can be a little rough sometimes,” I said, even though the roughest Horizon MC Bar had ever been was during Chuck’s and my bar fight against the guy who’d roughed up Haley. “You seem like you’re a nice person…”
“You don’t know me,” she reasoned. “I can handle myself. It seemed pretty sedate yesterday, anyway.”
“There’s a diner in town,” I said quickly. “Pretty good burgers. Pretty good everything, honestly, if you’re hungry. Want to meet there around seven instead? It could be a dinner meeting.”
“All right. I know where the diner is.”
“Pretty hard to miss. Hard to miss anything in this town, it’s so small.” I paused. “You’re not from here, are you?”
“No.”
“How’d you find your way here?” How did you find me that was the question I really wanted to ask. How did she find me, and what did she want with me?
“That’s something we can talk about tonight,” she said. “I look forward to meeting you in person.”
“Okay, it’s a date, then.” I slapped my own forehead, stunned at my stupidity. “I mean, you know. See you later.”
“All right, Sloan. Goodbye.”
“Bye.”
Why was my stupid heart beating so fast? Had I convinced it that I was going on a date after work? Because it wasn’t a date. It could be good news, and it could be bad news, according to Amy. I didn’t even know what she looked like. How my life could change after meeting her.
All I could really do was get through my day and meet her to lay all this shit to rest and get on with my life. The average case scenario was that she was going to try and sell me something I didn’t need. There was no reason for me to be so excited. Or terrified.
Work was good. Work was nice. It was wonderful to immerse myself in work, to focus on doing my job and doing it right so Chuck and Haley had the best place possible. It was hard to believe that they were moving in together even before Ace and Katie, but they’d known each other for longer. There was something really special about their relationship not that Ace and Katie didn’t have something nice, too. It was just that Chuck and Haley were as different as they could be, but they still loved each other so much. Something about them just worked, and the work they were putting into the house was a testament of that love.
“Hey, Sloan.” Haley came trudging through the house in what looked like brand new work boots. “How’s everything going?”
“Good,” I said, surprised to see her. “What are you up to?”
“I thought I’d come out to the house and clean up a little bit,” she said. “Man, just everyone in here kind of gives me the creeps, a little.”
I laughed at her, sitting back on my heels. I’d been in the middle of wiring an outlet. “How did you think houses were built? Did you think they just sprung up out of the ground like a flower?”
“I wish,” she muttered. “Do you know, the last time I was here, I found all these buckets laying around, all sealed. And you know, I didn’t want to throw them away in case they were something important, so I just left them alone for a while. Then, I thought that I’d just look inside of them to see if there was anything important in there.”
“Oh, God.”
“Yeah. So you think I should rent a portable toilet? Because that shit was so, so nasty.”
“Just throw away any sealed bucket that goes untouched for a day or more,” I advised her. “Don’t bother opening it. Or, better yet, just hire someone to clean up here for you. I can give you some names and numbers.”
“No, no,” she said. “I can do this. I want to do this. It’s going to be my home, you know? I want to make sure nothing stupid is happening to it. And it’s costing so much money already, building this thing. I never thought it was going to be so much.”
“Are you all doing all right financially?” I asked, concerned. “Because you know what I’m doing is pro bono.”
“Oh, no, Sloan,” she said, shaking her head. “No, no. Neither of us would ever ask that of you. We couldn’t. We know you do this for a living.”
“And I know that if I ever had anything wrong with my bike, Chuck would fix it for free,” I said. “And I couldn’t tell you what my bar tab is right now, because I’ve never paid it. So I’ll never charge any of you for any electrical work. That’s all I can contribute.”
“Aw, Sloan.” Haley gave me a hug. “You’re like the heart of the club. You contribute a lot more than just electrical work.”
“Thanks for saying that,” I said. “Don’t open anymore buckets around here.”
“Lesson learned,” she agreed. “I’m going to go collect nails now, because they leave them everywhere.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
Seeing Haley had been a good distraction, but the longer I worked, the more I thought about my impending meeting with Amy Ovalle. What did she want? What in the world would be any outcome of meeting her? The anxiety grew and grew until I was getting very little work done indeed.
It was a testament to just how stupid I was that I left Chuck and Haley’s house an hour early so I could swing by my house and shower before going to the diner. So stupid. It wasn’t a date. My hammering heart refused to be dissuaded, but it wasn’t a date. I even forced myself to forgo the cologne because of how much it wasn’t a date even though I spritzed it once in the air and walked through it, just to make sure I didn’t stink. I’d been sweating all day, after all. One spritz was okay. It wasn’t overkill.
God, I was stupid.
I arrived at the diner a full ten minutes early, like the idiot I was, and idled outside. How would I know it was her? We hadn’t exchanged any information about what we’d be wearing or how to recognize each other. I should’ve told her I’d be wearing a gray shirt, that I had black hair. I had literally no idea what she might look like. Voices were no indication of looks.
I finally pulled the door open to the diner and stepped inside, and it was immediately clear that I shouldn’t have worried in the first place. There was only one person seated in all the booths of the diner, and I knew it was Amy Ovalle. She could’ve told me that she was the most gorgeous woman in Rio Seco. That’s how I could’ve recognized her.
Ace and Jack hadn’t been pulling my leg. This woman, whoever she was, whatever she wanted, was beautiful. Dark hair, dark eyes, full lips, curves for days. The strange thing was, though, that she seemed more familiar the closer I got to her. I would’ve surely remembered being introduced to her, though, wouldn’t I, if it had happened before? Amy didn’t seem like a woman I would’ve forgotten, even if I was pretty sure she didn’t actually live here. If she did live here, at least one of the guys would know her. That was how small this town was. Among the five of us, we had about everyone in town covered.
As I approached Amy Ovalle, she looked up from her phone. That gaze stopped me in my tracks. I knew that look, that level one, the one that waited for me to make my next move. That gaze belonged to the woman in the crowd of protesters yesterday. She’d been there, and she’d seen everything.
“I’m Sloan Norris,” I blurted out as she set her phone down on the table in front of her. “You were at that protest. Why?”
“I was doing research,” she said. “That was an interesting event, don’t you think?”
“If by ‘interesting’ you mean ‘offensive,’ then yes.” I blinked at her as she took out a notebook and pen from her purse. “You are Amy Ovalle, aren’t you?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She stuck out her hand as she paged through the notebook until she came to a blank sheet. “Nice to meet you, Sloan. Please have a seat.”
I sat down with a great deal of reluctance. “Look, if this about how I acted at the protest, no one got hurt. You heard what those people were shouting.”
“Do you usually fly off the handle like that?” she asked, her pen poised on the notebook. “Would you say you have a bad temper?”
“I don’t understand. Are you a lawyer?”
She looked at me for a second before unexpectedly laughing. “Oh my…do I look like a lawyer? Geez. I knew I shouldn’t have worn this blazer. I was just worried about making a good first impression.”
I snorted. “I even put on cologne. That’s how nervous I am.”
“I’m not a lawyer, for the record,” she said, smiling as the waitress set down a glass of water for me. “Why? Do you think you deserve to be sued?”
“Of course not,” I said, frowning. “Are you hungry? Did you order already? Didn’t we agree this was a dinner meeting whatever we’re meeting about?”
“I haven’t ordered yet,” Amy said. “I was waiting for you. What’s your recommendation?”
“Can’t go wrong with the cheeseburger. That’s what I’m getting.” The waitress nodded and made a notation on her pad.
“Same for me,” Amy agreed. “Are you still nervous, Sloan?”
“I have to say, yes, I am.”
“Why? Are you generally a nervous person?”
“No. I’m nervous because I have no idea why you’re here, and you keep asking really probing, borderline-leading questions.”
She cocked her head at me. “You think the questions are leading?”
“Kind of. And I’m feeling a little attacked, here.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m coming on too strong, aren’t I?”
“Strong and mysterious.”
“Mysterious?”
“I have no idea why you’re here. Why you want to talk to me. What you want to talk to me about. You have to understand that you wanting to speak to me in person instead of on the phone kind of raised one or two red flags for me.”
“I’m so sorry that I made you feel threatened like this,” she said, hanging her head a little. “Just goes to show that I have a long way to go.”
“Your business card wasn’t very specific about your line of work,” I said, picking at the roll of silverware. “What is it that you do?”
She smiled. “Well, that’s because my line of work isn’t very specific. I’m a writer.”
A writer? What in the world did a writer want with me? “That’s specific enough. Why not include that on there?”
“Well, it’s because I haven’t published anything…yet.” She had a determined gleam in her eyes even as her smile still shone. “I’ll have new cards made up the moment it happens.”
“I wish you the best in that,” I said, taking a sip on my water and spluttering as I instantly choked on it. “Excuse s-sorry.”
“You okay?” She reached across the table to pound my back and I coughed and laughed simultaneously how much more awkward could this whole thing get?
“I’m fine, thanks. And sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. That water will get you every time. That’s why I recommended meeting at the bar. They have alcohol there at least.”
“I just wasn’t sure what to expect would happen in our meeting,” I said. “Can you blame me for feeling a little cautious? I don’t even know you. I don’t understand what your objective here is.”
She folded her hands on the table. “Okay. I know what’s really going on here.”
“You do?” I blinked at her. “Could you let me know so I won’t be in the dark anymore?”
“You didn’t want to meet me at the bar because that’s where all your friends are,” she said.
“That’s…” That was exactly true. “That’s not true.”
“You’re embarrassed of me.” Her lips were twitching.
“Ms. Ovalle”
“Please. It’s Amy.”
“Amy.”
“Yes?”
I huffed, off balanced. “How does that…that doesn’t even make sense. I didn’t even know you beforehand.”
Her eyes twinkled. “I’m just messing with you. You can probably wait to introduce me to your friends until the third or fourth date.”
I gaped at her until she laughed again. “I really had you going there, didn’t I?”
“You…did.” What else was I supposed to say? “I guess you did get me.”
“All I’m saying is that all of this would be a little easier to do with a little alcohol to…stimulate the conversation.” She smiled. “Put us both out of our misery, a little.”
I shook my head. “I don’t even understand what kind of conversation we’re supposed to be having,” I admitted. “You haven’t enlightened me yet.”
“I’m sorry.” That was funny; she didn’t seem like she was very sorry at all. “I guess I haven’t.”
“So, here’s the sum total of everything I know about you. Your name: Amy Ovalle. Your occupation: writer.”
“Not a writer yet,” she reminded me, drumming her fingers against the table. “Hoping you can help me change that.”
“I have no idea how I can help you become a writer,” I said. “I’m just an electrician.”
“You’re a lot more than that.”
I squinted at her. “You’re going to need to be a little clearer.”
“I’ve spoken with a source who told me about your career with the Navy SEALs.”
I inhaled sharply. Out of everything she could’ve asked me or told me, I definitely wasn’t expecting that bombshell.
“Who told you about that?” I asked.
“It’s confidential.”
“Exactly. A lot of the missions I went on remain classified.”
“No. I mean that the source is confidential. As a writer, I’m obligated to protect their anonymity.”
The waitress came back to the booth with our cheeseburgers, but as good as the plates looked, I’d more or less lost any appetite I might’ve had.
“What is it, exactly, that you’re looking to write?” I asked her. “A book?”
“A newspaper article,” she said, looking momentarily uncomfortable. “About the experiences of members of the military while they’re active duty. And what happens to them after they come back home.”
“That’s pretty broad.”
“That’s why I’m kind of counting on you to help me narrow it down.” She pushed her plate aside to pull her notebook in front of her again. “You served in Iraq, correct?”
God help me, but I took a huge bite of my cheeseburger, as much as I didn’t want to even touch it, just to save me from having to answer her right away. What was it, exactly, that she wanted to know about me? I didn’t have a good feeling about any of this.
“Sorry,” I said, still chewing. “I would really like some more information about the angle of your article before I commit to answering any questions.”
“That’s kind of the thing,” she said. “I’m not sure from what angle I’m going to approach this. My source has told me some things about specifically your team’s work in Iraq, and I would like for you to confirm them.”
“What publication is this going to be for?”
“It kind of depends on the story,” she admitted. “It was pitched to me by the editor of one paper, but if the story turns out to be good enough, it could go to other publications, too.”
“Good enough?” I blinked slowly at her, the one bite of burger turning in my stomach. “I can’t honestly say that my time in Iraq was very good.”
“Tell me about it, then. Correct me. Just give me something here, Sloan.”
Something inside me didn’t want to disappoint such a beautiful woman, but I overwhelmingly didn’t want to talk about this, especially when Amy was being so vague.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, even if I didn’t understand why I was the one apologizing. “I don’t even really know you, and I’m not sure that I’m comfortable giving a stranger the details of everything that I did and that happened to me in Iraq.”
She stared right back at me, letting that soak in. “I understand that. That’s reasonable. But would you give me a chance? Get to know me a little bit before brushing me off?”
“I really don’t”
“Please.” God, she had such puppy-dog eyes. I was sure she knew exactly what she was doing, turning those things on. I wondered if anyone ever had the chance to resist that look. “You can trust me. I know it’s not like we’ve known each other for very long, but I would do a good job with telling your story.”
“Amy, I don’t even talk to my close friends about the things that happened in Iraq.”
“I’m not asking to be your close friend.” She frowned a little. “Okay, that came out wrong. I wouldn’t mind being your friend. Not at all. But what I’m trying to tell you is that sometimes it’s easier to talk about tough things with someone you don’t know as well. There’s comforta kind of intimacy, even in the relative anonymity between us. I’m saying there could be, if you’d give me a chance.”
“You’re not understanding me,” I said, shaking my head. “Or maybe I haven’t been clear enough. I don’t want to talk about Iraq. I really don’t.”
“Sloan …”
“And by don’t want to, I mean I won’t.” I slid out from the booth and stood up, dropping a couple of bills on the table.
“We obviously got off to the wrong foot,” Amy observed, her dark eyes full of liquid regret. “Could I meet up with you some other time?”
“You can feel free to meet up with me at any time,” I said. “I’m just not going to talk about Iraq.”
Amy seemed to consider this for a few moments before nodding. “I’ll just have to take that, then.”
I left the diner not sure if I’d come out of that one on top or not or if there was even anything to win.