Page 54 of Eight Count Heat
"Worried about Callahan?" Beckett asks, sidling up beside me with two beers in hand. He offers me one, which I take out of habit more than desire.
"I'm worried about team cohesion," I correct. "Riverside is in five days. We need everyone on the same page."
"Right. Team cohesion." He smirks, taking a swig of his beer. "That's definitely what has you checking the window every thirty seconds."
I level a glare at him that would silence most people. Beckett just grins wider.
"Just saying, Captain. You've been extra... focused... since our new cox arrived."
"She's improved our times. I focus on results."
"Among other things."
I turn fully toward him. "You have something to say, Monroe?"
His expression shifts, the joker facade slipping to reveal the sharper mind beneath. "Just that I'm not the only one who's noticed how you watch her. The difference is, I can admit when I'm interested in someone."
I open my mouth to deliver a cutting response when the front door opens and Reese finally steps inside. My irritation at hertardiness is immediately replaced with an unexpected rush of relief that she came at all.
"Sorry I'm late," she says, slightly breathless. "Lost track of time."
Her hair is damp at the ends, like she showered recently. She's wearing jeans and a dark blue V-neck sweater instead of her usual athletic gear. The change shouldn't be noteworthy, but I find my gaze lingering on the way the color brings out the blue in her blue-green eyes.
"Callahan," I acknowledge, keeping my voice neutral. "We were about to start without you."
"Liar," Beckett says cheerfully. "He's been watching the window like a hawk."
I shoot him a warning look, which he ignores with his typical nonchalance.
"Food's ready," Bo announces from the kitchen, defusing the moment. "Everyone grab a bowl."
The team migrates to the dining area, a large table that barely accommodates all nine of us. I position myself at the head out of habit, noting how Reese hesitates before taking an empty seat between Zane and Tyler. Cameron sits directly across from her, his usual silence somehow more pronounced, attention fixed on his bowl.
Bo serves his jambalaya, moving around the table with the confident ease of someone accustomed to feeding a crowd. The rich aroma of spices and seafood fills the room, momentarily silencing conversation as everyone digs in.
"Holy shit, Strickland," Beckett says after his first bite. "Marry me."
"Get in line," Zane mumbles around a mouthful. "I asked first."
Bo shrugs, pleased but trying not to show it. "Old family recipe. Secret's in the roux."
"You cook like this often?" Reese asks, looking genuinely impressed.
"Team dinner before every major race," Eli explains. "Bo's rotation includes jambalaya, gumbo, and something he calls 'swamp stew' that tastes better than it sounds."
"Much better," Jackson confirms quietly. One of the few times he's spoken all evening.
I watch Reese as she eats, noting the dark circles under her eyes, partially concealed with makeup. Her shoulders are tight with tension she's trying to hide. Throughout breakfast this morning, she seemed distracted, checking her watch repeatedly. Now her gaze keeps drifting to the window, as if expecting someone or something to jump out and attack her.
"How's everyone feeling about Riverside?" I ask, bringing the focus back to why I called this dinner in the first place.
Various responses echo around the table. Confident. Ready. Prepared. Bo mentions tweaks to his stroke rate. Tyler launches into statistical analysis of our projected times versus the competition. Eli discusses the course map he's been refining.
Reese stays quiet, pushing jambalaya around her bowl more than eating it.
"Callahan?" I prompt. "Any thoughts on race strategy?"
She looks up, composing her features quickly. "Your start sequence has improved significantly. If we maintain that powerthrough the first 500 meters, we'll have the advantage at the crosscurrent."
