Page 16 of Falcon

“So what brings you to Georgia? Just visiting Nora?”

He puts the cap back on the alcohol. “Yes. I’ve got a break in my schedule for a bit and wanted to head out to see her and meet her…boyfriend.”

He says it with a bit of tone.

“Fiancé,” I correct him. “Case is a good man, truly.”

“He better be.” He looks down at my hands again, but I can see the tautness of his shoulders. Case is a tender subject it seems.

“I’ve known him for four years, worked with him for three and a half, he’s a medaled police officer with nothing but glowing reports and reviews. He’s the best man you could ever want for your sister. Trust me.”

“You sound like you might have a thing for him.” He leans against my counter and crosses his arms over his chest.

“What? No. Case is like a brother to me. Gross.” I shiver at the thought.

“So what’s your story then?”

“My story?”

“Yeah. You’re clearly young. You live alone, at least I think you do, and you seem to be very guarded.”

“You know all of this by one conversation with me?”

“Two conversations.” He holds up two fingers, correcting me, prompting me to roll my eyes.

“There isn’t much of a story. I had wanted to live here my whole life, and when I was finally able, I did.” The long story is so much messier and more complicated, and something I’m just not going to share. “What about your story? How does one actually become a fighter?”

He smiles that killer smile at me. “Let me take you to dinner, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Are you asking me out?”

“Well, yeah, I am. I think it still works the same way down here, doesn’t it?”

“Well, Marco…”

“Falcon,” he corrects me again and honestly, it kind of throws me for a loop.

“Falcon, you’re Nora’s brother. I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” I admit, even though deep inside, I want to go with him. I want to get to know him. I like his company.

“Two people can’t have dinner and get to know one another? I don’t think that would cause any issues with my sister. I’m not asking you to marry me, Faith. I’m asking for dinner.”

“Can I think about it?”

“Sure.” He nods. “Give me your cell phone.”

“What?”

“Just trust me.” He opens his hand.

I pull my phone out of the small pocket in the hip area of my leggings and hand it over.

He pulls out his own phone and calls it from mine. “There. I saved my number in your phone and I have yours now. Text me if you decide the answer to my question is yes.”

“What if I didn’t want you to have my number?” I ask, as I take my phone when he offers it.

“Oh, Faith, every woman wants me to have their number.”

I roll my eyes and laugh out loud. “My answer is definitely no, now.”

---