We eat in silence for a few minutes, interrupted only by an occasional distracting noise from Danika. She has no fucking clue what she is doing to me with those little sounds.
A shrill ring sounds and Danika looks up at me in confusion. It rings again and her eyes widen. “Shit, where’s my purse? That’s my cell.”
“On the table by the front door.” She jumps from her chair and sprints out toward the living room. I hear her answer the phone and her muffled replies to whomever is on the other end of the line. She reappears with her phone in her hand a minute later and offers me an apologetic smile.
“Sorry, that was one of my contacts for a story I am working on. I really needed to speak with him.”
“What’s the story?” I ask, setting my silverware down on my empty plate.
She hasn’t spoken much about her work, but I have been reading her articles religiously since the day she charged into my office. They’re good. She’s an excellent writer and investigator. She doesn’t back down from a difficult story, and she certainly isn’t afraid to write things some people may not want to hear. She has ethics, and, in this day and age, that’s something almost impossible to find. I do worry, though, that some of the topics she tackles could put her in hot water with some unsavory individuals.
“Oh, just something I’ve been working on for a while. Not sure where it’s going, if anywhere, at this point. This contact is essential to my story, but he’s a bit squirrelly.”
My heart jumps and unease overtakes me.
“What do you mean squirrelly?”
Sighing heavily, she leans her forearms onto the table and looks up at me, her annoyance apparent. “I can’t really get into it, but basically he knows his life is in danger by talking to me, and even though I swore I would protect his identity, he has been waffling about getting me the information I need. I have to go meet with him tonight.”
“Life is in danger? What kind of shit have you gotten yourself into? You aren’t going alone, are you?” I ask, the anger in my voice a little more prevalent than I intended.
She glares at me and shoves away from the table. “I’m doing my job. I can take care of myself, you know.”
Like you did last night?
Thankfully, I manage to rein in the desire to point out her state less than twelve hours ago. “I’m sure you can, but is it really safe for you to be meeting with this guy in person? Alone?”
She yanks her plate from the table and storms over to me, her lips pressed together into a fierce scowl. Stopping next to me, she reaches out and grabs my plate, turning to the kitchen without a word.
Yikes.
She’s fuming mad.
I think we’re having our first fight.
The plates clank in the dishwasher and she slams the door shut, finally looking over at me again. “I managed to make it through the past three years at my job unscathed. I don’t need you second-guessing me and acting like my goddamn father.”
Acting like her father? Is that really what I’m doing? Maybe I am overstepping my bounds here.
Her dad died when she was so young, she’s had to take care of herself for a long time. Maybe I’m not giving her enough credit.
“Look,” I say, holding my hands up in resignation, “I’m sorry if it came across that way. I’m just worried about you. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
She closes her eyes and sighs. When she opens them again, the anger is gone, replaced by something I hope is affection. She circles the counter and walks over to me. Leaning down, she places a quick kiss on my lips before backing away.
“I’ll be fine. I have to go. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Okay.”
She disappears around the corner and the front door opens and clicks shut. Dropping my head into my hands, I groan.
This morning has already been filled with more drama and mindfucks than I’ve faced in a long time. I’ve apparently completely forgotten how to be with a woman without having a mental breakdown or pissing her off. This is not a good way to start things with Danika.
It’s like the tiny amount of hope I built is already caving in around me.
“So, what the hell happened?”
It isn’t a question. It’s more of a whiny demand for information from Caroline. I’d barely set foot in my apartment when my phone rang. Ignoring Caroline is useless. Plus, she has a key to my place, and if I hadn’t answered, she would probably show up here demanding the rundown of last night’s events if I hadn’t picked up her call.
“Well, I went to the club…”
“Did you wear that mini-skirt?”
Thank GOD, yes! Wearing that skirt was probably the best decision I made last night. It certainly made for easy access and, hell, I will never complain about that.
“Yes, now do you want to know what happened or not?” I drop my purse on the couch and head for my bedroom to get changed for my meeting with Paul. He better show up. I don’t have time for his wishy-washy promises and zero results.