Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Simone nods at the stool. “Please, have a seat. Can I offer you two a drink?”
“Not for me,” I say with a laugh. “No one wants me interviewing after I’ve been emboldened by liquor.”
Simone laughs and Evan sets his camera down on the stool next to me. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to use the restroom and grab a bite to eat. Want anything?”
The smell of food drifting through the suite reminds me I’ve been running on adrenaline and coffee since this afternoon. I’m famished. “Can you bring me a plate of anything, really?”
“Got ya covered.” Evan’s gaze goes to Simone. “Would you like me to bring you anything?”
Simone waves him off. “No, thank you, but that’s very sweet.”
Evan moves off, already scanning the buffet like it’s a tactical operation, and the space between Simone and me naturally closes by a fraction.
“Are we on or off the record?” Simone asks.
“Off,” I say, throwing my thumb back at Evan’s retreating form. “There goes my cameraman.”
“In that case,” she drawls, leaning in toward me. “Are you and Evan…?”
The question catches me off guard, and my eyebrows lift in surprise. “Together?” I let out a snort of a laugh. “God, no. We’d kill each other. He’s more like an annoying brother, although he’s very good at what he does, so I have to put up with it.”
Her smile widens, amused but relieved.
“My bad,” Simone replies breezily. “Now, tell me all about the documentary so far. I think it’s wonderful.”
And just like that, we slip into easy conversation—the kind that doesn’t feel like work, even though part of my brain is still cataloging tone and body language.
We talk easily. About the documentary, about settling in, about how her parents are in town watching their six-month-old tonight so she could come out.
There’s no guardedness in her, no sense of being measured or wary. Maybe it’s because this is all off the record, but she talks like someone who’s already secure in her life.
“What do you think of Portland?” I ask her.
“I’ve always been a fan of the Pacific Northwest. I love it here,” she says. “It helps that my brother Malik recently moved to Seattle.”
“Are you two close?”
Simone nods. “Close to all my brothers, but a little bit more with Malik if you’re forcing me to say that off the record. He was working in Pittsburgh when Van was with the Titans, so we hung out a lot. I think he thinks we followed him across the country, and maybe we did.”
There’s affection there, layered with humor.
“And what does he do?” I ask.
“He works for a company called Jameson Force Security. They have offices in Vegas and Pittsburgh, and they wanted to open one in Seattle, so Malik is running it.”
“Is that like installing security systems?”
Simone chuckles. “Yes, they can do that and I highly recommend them, but they do everything you can imagine that has to do with security. Executive protection, kidnapping recoveries, witness extractions, and intelligence work.”
“Wow. Pretty high speed.”
“Yeah, everyone who works there has military or law enforcement background, mostly special ops types.”
I’m filing it away—not for the documentary, not for tonight—but because it tells me about the circles she moves in. Competence. Intensity. People who understand risk.
Simone’s eyes dart to the left and I follow her line of sight in time to see Evan heading our way, two plates of food balanced with practiced ease. He sets one down before me. “Prime rib, milady.”
“Looks fantastic,” I reply, genuinely pleased, especially at the little dollop of horseradish he put on the side.
Simone rises from her stool, smoothing her hand down the side of her dress as she stands. “I’m going to step out onto the balcony and watch a bit of the game. Not the same with Van not on the ice, but I don’t mind staring at my husband on the bench.”
I laugh, deciding I very much like this woman. “It was a pleasure talking to you.”
“We should do lunch sometime,” she says.
“I’d love that.”
And I mean it. Not because I’m looking to network or consider it an obligation, but as the rare, uncomplicated spark that might exist entirely outside my work.
Wanting something outside the frame has never ended well for me.
I find myself wanting it anyway.
CHAPTER 14
Crosby
If I’d known a documentary interview would involve dirty dishes, empty wineglasses, and Juno barefoot in my kitchen like she owned the place, I might’ve let her in faster.
But here we are as she stands at my sink, sleeves pushed up, rinsing plates handed to her by my sister, Birdie, who’s washing them. After dinner, Evan went to set up for the interview, and Juno jumped into action to clean the kitchen, Which, as a good host, I tried to protest.
But she waved me off.
Actually, she sort of glared and took over like this is a house she’s lived in her whole life.