Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 49416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Anne gives us a couple of minutes to check out the menu, and we both quickly put in our orders before Anne winks at Zoe and heads off.
“So, Owen,” Zoe asks after Anne brings us two iced teas. “How did you get into this line of work?”
I take a quick drink before setting it down. “It's kind of a long story,” I say, tilting my head. “But the summary is…I'm military. I worked in an intelligence unit in the Air Force before moving to special OPS. After I spent some time overseas, I decided to separate instead of reenlist. I needed a change of scenery and pace. That's when I bought the club I met you at, and I do private jobs like this on a contract basis.”
Recognition clicks in her eyes. “You said you knew the owner,” she says, chuckling. She shakes her head. “And you protect people as a side hustle? That sounds like an adventurous life.”
I shrug, glancing around the restaurant and noticing more than a few of the patrons giving me the side eye. I can’t really blame them, I’m a newcomer into their tight-knit town, and I practically take up this entire side of the booth, not to mention I have ink for days.
“How did you get into your gig?” I ask after Anne has brought us our food. “Is it something you’ve always been interested in?”
Zoe nods after taking a quick bite of her chicken. “I've always been fascinated by the mind and helping people, so being a psychologist sort of fit that bill. Plus, my dad had been in politics my entire life, and I knew for a fact I didn't want to go that direction. So, I focused on school and after I started treating my first few patients, I realized it was a job I'd love to do the rest of my life. I bought my practice two years later and have been working on my own ever since.”
“That's a seriously impressive accomplishment,” I say, after taking a bite of my steak, which is cooked to perfection. Zoe wasn't wrong about this place being off the charts.
“Thank you,” she says. “I’m really proud of it. I love going to work…” Her voice trails off, her shoulders drooping.
“Or you did,” I finish for her. “Before an ex-patient crossed lines.” I sigh. “Have you been able to feel even slightly better? Now that I’m there?”
“Definitely,” she says. “I wish I would’ve taken my dad up on it sooner,” she continues. “Not just because of how much better I feel about going in to work now…but because then I would’ve met you sooner.”
I smile at that. “True,” I say. “But, we wouldn’t have had all those delightfully interesting text conversations.”
She blushes, taking another bite. “Speaking of,” she says after swallowing. “You mentioned a friend who works at the club with you. Is he also the friend that’s helping you on this case?”
I nod. “Caleb,” I say. “He was in my unit when we were in the Air Force. He separated a year after me and moved out here to work with me.”
“You two must be close.”
“We’ve been through our fair share of shit shows,” I say. “I give him a lot of grief, but he’s like a brother to me. He’s also a genius with computers, so when I work cases like this, he’s a priceless asset to have on my side.” I shake my head. “When you meet him, don’t tell him I said that.”
Her eyebrows raise. “Is he coming out here to ask me questions about the case?”
“No,” I answer. “I mean when I introduce you to him.”
Zoe smiles. “You want me to meet your best friend?”
Fuck. “He already knows about you,” I say, giving her an apologetic look. “I texted you a lot from the club. I don’t do that…ever, so he asked.”
“Wow,” she says, grinning as she shifts in her seat. “I clearly told my friends about you too,” she says, glancing at Anne across the restaurant.
I can’t help but wonder what all she told them about me before she actually knew who I was. “Hopefully good things,” I say.
“All good things.”
We spend the rest of the meal unpacking more of the previously mysterious and vague texts we’ve sent before, and we continue talking well into the evening. Past dessert and coffee, up until Anne tells us they're about to close.
I grab the tab, and lead Zoe out of the little restaurant, walking her back to her car.
We linger there for just a moment, and I hate how much I don't want this night to end.
“I'm going to follow you home and make sure you get inside and then I'll see you in the morning. Sound good?” I ask.
I want her to tell me to follow her home and come in almost as badly as I don't want her to say those words.