“What was that all about?” Forrest asked after it seemed like the impending bout of berserker werewolf had been forestalled. “Not that I really need to ask, considering all the noise the two of you were making the other night.”
Caleb grimaced. “You heard?”
Brielle would be mortified if she knew Forrest had overheard them having sex.
“You kidding me?” Forrest let out a soft snort and turned slightly away from him so it wouldn’t be obvious that a diplomat was talking with a security guard. “Dude, half the neighborhood probably heard you growling and her screaming. Hell, Genevieve almost pounded on your bedroom door more than once, worried you’d gone all werewolf and were devouring poor Brielle.”
Caleb almost chuckled. Yeah, Genevieve seemed like the shy type. She probably would have blushed so hard she passed out if she knew what he and Brielle were doing in his room. “I’m surprised nobody said anything the next morning when we came down for breakfast.”
“We wanted to,” Forrest admitted. “But we decided as a group that Brielle wasn’t ready for teasing like that, so we agreed to bite our tongues for now.”
“Thanks,” Caleb muttered, not sure what else to say.
He and his teammates ribbed each other about pretty much anything and everything. The fact that they’d decided Brielle and her night of loud, wild sex with him was off-limits was definitely surprising.
“Don’t mention it,” Forrest murmured. “Besides, when the time is right, you better believe we’re going to remind you and her of that night. It would be irresponsible of us not to.”
Forrest walked away to help himself to more hors d’oeuvres from the bar area. Caleb would have loved to eat a few dozen of those pigs in a blanket right then, but security guards weren’t supposed to eat on duty. So he couldn’t.
Instead, he turned and glanced at Brielle again, a growl slipping out when he saw another Frenchman talking to her.
“So, you and Brielle, huh?” Forrest said, coming back over to him, casually eating a tiny pastry-wrapped hot dog. “Gotta say, while I didn’t see it coming, you’re good together.”
Caleb started to say that, yeah, he thought so, too, but he stopped, the words getting mixed up somewhere between his head and his mouth.
“I’m not sure we’re going to keep seeing each other after this whole thing is over.”
The thought of never seeing Brielle again hurt so much he could barely breathe, and he actually swayed a little on his feet.
Forrest looked his way, surprise on his face. “Why would you say something like that?”
Caleb suddenly felt stupid for even opening his mouth. When the hell had he suddenly become the sharing kind? But it was too late to backtrack now. Forrest would never let this go. Besides, if he didn’t talk to someone about it, he’d go frigging insane.
“We’re too different,” he said, finally putting words to the doubts filling his head. “She’s a beautiful woman who could have any man on the planet. I’m a soup sandwich with anger management issues, a criminal record, and one screwup in STAT standing between me and a ten-year prison term. I mean, seriously, why the hell would someone like Brielle ever want to have anything to do with me?”
“Don’t ask me,” Forrest said with a chuckle. “You’re right about her being way too good for you. But considering the fact that you two are sleeping together, it’s obvious she sees something worthwhile in you.”
Caleb shifted from one foot to the other, rolling his suddenly tight shoulders. “That was just sex,” he mumbled even as a part of him hated to think that was the case.
Forrest frowned. “You honestly don’t believe that, do you?”
Caleb didn’t say anything, mainly because he wasn’t sure what he believed. He wanted to be wrong about this but…
“Look,” Forrest said. “Even if you are right about it not meaning anything to Brielle—which I don’t think you are, by the way—I can tell that sleeping with her obviously means something to you or we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Am I right?”
“Yeah,” Caleb admitted quietly. “Which only makes this situation more difficult. I find myself hoping that the other night meant as much to her, but I have no way of knowing. So now, I’m left to wonder, thinking the worst and driving myself crazy.”
Forrest regarded him thoughtfully for a long moment. “Okay, I know this is probably going to sound a little out there, but have you ever thought about simply talking to Brielle and asking her what that night was about for her?”
Caleb stared at Forrest like he was a pig wearing a Rolex. Hell, for all he knew, the watch STAT had given his teammate to wear might actually be one. “Talk to her. Just like that. Are you on drugs? I can’t talk to Brielle about something like this.”
“Why not?” Forrest asked. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of talking to her. I’ve seen you charge into a tunnel full of cannibalistic humanoid underground dwellers without thinking twice. Having a serious conversation with Brielle can’t be any more terrifying than that.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Caleb muttered. “The worst thing those creatures down in the tunnels could do was eat me. Brielle could hurt me a lot worse than they ever could.”
Forrest didn’t say anything for a moment, and Caleb wasn’t sure if the guy’s expression was one of happiness…or pity.
“Wow,” Forrest finally said. “You really got it bad for her, don’t you?”
Ingrained instinct demanded that he deny that accusation, but Caleb knew it was too late for that. Forrest already knew the truth.
“How the hell did you get so smart about women, anyway?” he demanded, deciding that a good way to avoid answering a truly painful question was by asking one of his own.
Forrest shrugged, eating the last of his hors d’oeuvres before setting the small plate on the tall cocktail table beside him. “The same way every man learns about women…from a woman. In this case, Misty. She made me work for it before letting me get close to her. That meant lots of talking, which is how I learned that women like to know what a guy thinks. That’s why I suggested you and Brielle spend some time talking—preferably before sleeping together again—so you can figure out where you stand with each other.”
Caleb considered that. “How did you and Misty meet?”
He knew he was simply grasping for any topic that would allow him to avoid talking—or even thinking—about his own problems, but since he didn’t know their story, it seemed as good a time as any to ask.
The look Forrest gave him said he knew exactly what Caleb was doing. But Forrest let it go, for the moment at least.