Page 80 of Lucky Charm
Hunt turned to her, shaking his head. “How many of these did you draw?”
“Five, I think.” The small, rough sketches in the center of the paper didn’t take long. She reached and took her pad from him, flipping pages.
“IQS, how I saw him in the kitchen.” She flipped another page. “That’s the argument in the yard.
Hunt went silent, flipping from page to page, then repeating. “Get dressed. Stocker wants to talk to you. Let’s get it done tonight.”
Cait pulled back, staring at the man who was acting like the LT, not someone who mattered to her. “Okay. Give me a minute. Uniform?”
“Doesn’t matter.” He stacked up the pictures and laid them into the pad and closed the cover. “Don’t draw anymore.”
“I was trying to purge all these memories in case that’s causing my dreams.”
Hunt’s blank face rubbed at her hard. She pulled back into the professional mode when he didn’t answer her and went to the closet. Changing clothes in front of him brought out a reluctance to be undressed in front of him and that made her mad.
She talked while she changed. “Seems like we may need some ground rules on this professional thing.”
Hunt’s eyebrows creased at the bridge of his nose. “Like what?”
“Like communication is key. Like we can’t both be batshit crazy at the same time. Like we both don’t do danger at the same time. Like we don’t do anything to jeopardize the trust.” She shimmied out of her pajama bottoms as she talked and pulled on a pair of khaki pants over her black bikini underwear. She shed the stretchy top and found the black matching bra and fastened it quickly. Finally, she pulled a black long-sleeve t-shirt from her drawer and drew it over her head. She opted forher Army boots because they were there, serviceable, and would keep her feet warm. She turned to go to her bed and tie her boots but stopped.
Hunt was taking a thorough look, then his eyes settled on her legs.
“What?”
“I love your legs.” He shifted, some of the tension leaving his body. “Well, I love your ass, too.”
She strolled over to him and put her hands on his chest. “I had my hands on your ass first, mister.”
“Competition. I like it.” His eyes apologized even if he still had his mean face on.
“You would.” She went on tiptoe and kissed him under his chin. It really was convenient that he stood so much taller than her.
He turned his head to give her access. “Batshit crazy?”
“Yeah, you know, lose our um,… cool.”
“I don’t lose my cool.” He slipped an arm around her and lifted her off her feet so she could reach his mouth with no problem.
She accommodated the silent request for a kiss and went in easy, her only objective to taste, to sooth. They didn’t have time for anything else. “You never lose your cool?”
“They pay me the big bucks not to.”
“Well, they pay me the big bucks, too, but I still lose it occasionally. You want to tell me what happened while you were gone?”
“Questions, strategy. All still classified.”
“Okay. That I can accept.”
He raised a brow. “You seem pissed.”
“Not pissed, irritated. But I’m not the one with a mean face on.”
Hunt sighed. “Scott called me on being professional. Didn’t say in so many words but is concerned I’m getting too involved.”
She tapped him lightly on the shoulder. He set her back on her feet. She laced her fingers through his. “Duncan cornered me this afternoon with essentially the same speech.”
“What did you tell him?”
