“Britney will be here soon. She can cut your hair, and it won’t take me long to pack.”
“Okay,” I repeat, my stomach turning over on itself at the prospect of meeting his ex-wife, who, by all accounts, is perfectly nice according to her ex-husband, but who had something that I’ve coveted for years.
Ladd’s stare intensifies, lines creasing his forehead. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I exclaim confidently. “Of course.”
His beautiful eyes turn hard, slightly icy. “I need your head in the game, Greer. If you can’t do this, I’ll go down and take care of Mejia myself. You can stay here.”
That offends me on a level deeper than the unexplored parts of the ocean. My own tone is glacial. “I’m ready for this, and you either trust me or you don’t. But if you don’t, chances are you’re going to get me killed.”
Ladd’s face flushes with anger, but he doesn’t respond, instead opening his car door and exiting the Jeep. He doesn’t wait for me, slamming the door behind him, and I scramble out to catch up.
I’m just hitting the porch steps when he’s pushing the front door open and walking in, not bothering to wait for me or make an official welcome into his home. I step into the foyer and close the door behind me. A lump forms in my throat when a beautiful, blond-haired boy—obviously his child—flies into his arms.
“Hey, buddy.” Ladd gives his son a hard hug before setting him down.
“Cage said you’re leaving on an assignment,” Ethan exclaims, his expression worried. That touches me. He’s clearly of an age to know some peril can be at play with his father’s job.
A man comes out of the kitchen, a half-eaten apple in hand, and leans against the entryway. Ethan’s expression cuts to him. I’m assuming this is Cage.
Ladd looks to him, a silent demand for a report, and Cage obliges. “I’ve got Brendan and Mickey walking perimeter. No sign of anything.”
Throwing his thumb over his shoulder at me, Ladd says, “That’s Greer.”
Cage smiles, and although I’ve figured out his name, he nods and says, “Cage.”
“Nice to meet you.” The words are hard to get out as Ladd doesn’t make an official introduction between me and his son, and fuck, if that doesn’t hurt. But it’s obviously coming from a place within that still doesn’t like me very much.
But I’m going to correct the oversight. I lean around Ladd to make eye contact with the boy. “Hi. You must be Ethan. I’m Greer.”
There’s not a shy bone in his body. He smiles in welcome. “Are you my dad’s partner on this mission?”
“I am,” I reply with a return smile. “I’ll keep him safe for you.”
Some boys might sneer at a woman keeping their father safe, but Ethan says, “Cool. All the Jameson agents are badass.”
Before I can correct his wrong assumption as to being a Jameson agent, Ladd ruffles the boy’s hair. “Hey… language, buddy.”
“Sorry,” Ethan mutters with a duck of his head, but his eyes twinkle, and I know he’s not sorry at all.
“Come on upstairs,” Ladd says, draping his arm around Ethan’s shoulders. “You can help me pack and I’ll tell you what’s going on.”
Not once does Ladd acknowledge me, but I watch them both ascend the stairs until they’re out of sight.
“You’re former CIA, huh?” Cage says.
I turn my attention to him, and he takes a big bite of his apple. “Yeah.”
He chews for a moment, studying me shrewdly. When he swallows, he asks, “What’s the deal with you and Ladd? He says y’all were engaged a long time ago. Why didn’t y’all get married?”
It’s not hard to peg that Cage is probably from the South. Not only does he have a slight accent but his use of the contraction “y’all” is a dead giveaway.
His blunt inquiry surprises me as southerners are stereotyped as being more well-mannered, and not obnoxiously nosy. I had no clue that Ladd told anyone about our history. I’m at a loss as to how to respond, because the reasons are very complex and still an embarrassment to me.
So I offer a vague response. “We were just at different points in our lives. Wanted different things.”
Cage’s tone is bland but clearly protective of Ladd. “And that wasn’t something you could’ve figured out before accepting his proposal?” he asks pointedly.
I try to tamp down the anger and hurt his veiled accusation causes. I don’t know this man, but he’s clearly loyal to Ladd. He’s put the failure of us to commit squarely on my plate, and while it’s mostly true, I could tell him the ways in which Ladd made it difficult for me to compromise.
I don’t, though, because it’s not worth it. I doubt I’ll be in this guy’s presence much longer.
The door behind me opens, and a rush of cold air hits my back, despite the North Face jacket I have on. I turn and see Ladd’s ex-wife, Britney, walking in.
She huffs out a long breath and stamps her feet on the foyer rug, shutting the door with a laugh. “Man, it’s getting cold out there.”
She doesn’t seem to have changed a bit since I saw her ten years ago. Her face is as beautiful and youthful as it was when I first saw her being helped out of Ladd’s car in their driveway. She’s even sporting a very pregnant belly again. A child—something I didn’t want once upon a time and wasn’t able to give Ladd all those years ago. I was so focused on my career, the concept of children seemed alien to my entire being.
Britney’s mouth breaks into a wide smile showcasing perfect teeth as her eyes alight on me. “You must be Greer.”
Taking off her glove, she offers a beautifully manicured hand, and I shake it. “I’m Britney. I will apparently be your stylist today.”
She laughs again, a gentle tinkling of amusement at herself, and I can tell just within these few seconds of meeting her that she’s a genuinely nice person.
It makes it easy to smile back. “It’s good to meet you, Britney. And thank you for agreeing to cut my hair. I was just going to have Ladd do it, but he assured me it would be the biggest mistake of my life.”
She laughs again and then gives her attention briefly to Cage. She leans forward and gives him a tiny, playful punch in the stomach. “How are you and Jaime doing? All secrets out on the table?”
Cage snorts as he pushes off the doorjamb. Clearly there’s an inside joke I don’t get. “Let’s just say Jaime knows things about me that even I don’t know.”
Britney winks at the man. “You make sure to treat her right. She’s a gem.”
“Don’t I know it.” Cage takes another bite of his apple and moves past us out the door.
When it closes, Britney turns to me brightly. “I’m not a professional hairdresser or anything. I just happen to have a bit of artistic talent. What would you like me to do for you?”
I hover my hand just above my shoulder. “Straight across, right about here.”
Britney beams. “I can totally do that without messing it up.”
Within a few minutes, Britney has me in a kitchen chair. She knew right where the linen closet was and has draped a towel over my shoulders. I ask about her pregnancy, and she chatters about it, occasionally rubbing her back while she gets out a pair of scissors from the utility drawer, as well as a broom and dustpan.