Crazy Girl(31)

Putting the truck in park, he cut the ignition. “You gonna cut her loose?”

I winced a little with his words. I didn’t like the sound of that. But that had been what I was thinking, wasn’t it? That I should just let her go; end it now, so I don’t hurt her or waste anyone’s time.

Sighing, I scrubbed my face with one hand. “I should.”

“Wren, this schedule is always going to be nuts. It’s kind of like the military. When someone dates, or marries someone in the military, they marry the life and sacrifices that come with it. If you like the woman, you should at least give her a chance to decide if she can deal with it or not. Don’t decided for her. Women hate that shit.”

“Well thanks, Dr. Phil,” I chuckled. “I had no idea you were so well versed in women. Does Tracey know about this?”

He snorted a laugh. “It’s not Dr. Phil—it’s Dr. Love. And she’s very well aware, thank you very much.”

I was grinning as we climbed out of the truck. Kegs was probably one of the funniest people I knew. I think that’s one of the reasons our friendship worked so well; we were both sarcastic as hell and could have a conversation with depth without making it sound like we were a bunch of women discussing our feelings and shit.

Grabbing the bags out of the back of the truck, we trudged inside. “We’re running that security scenario on Saturday. Why don’t you see if she wants to play a part?”

Twisting my mouth, I tilted my head in thought. That wasn’t a bad idea. Plus, it would allow me to work and hang out with her. I just hoped she’d be willing to make the trek down here. Kegs was right. The right thing to do was to give her a fair shot.

Once we’d put everything away, Kegs left for the cafeteria while I hung behind in one of the empty classrooms so I could call Hannah. I wasn’t a huge fan of talking on the phone. But for her, I’d make an exception.

“Hello,” she answered, her voice soft but sounding surprised. I guessed she hadn’t expected me to call. Or maybe she was surprised at the timing—it was in the middle of a work day.

“Hey, chica, how ya doing today?” I cringed. What the fuck was that? That had sounded weird. This was exactly why I hated phone calls.

“I’m good. How are you?”

“Sweaty,” I admitted, swiping my hand across my forehead, which was still damp with perspiration. “We just got back in from field training. It’s damn hot outside today.”

“Yeah. I feel lucky I have an indoor job.” She was joking around. Always a good sign.

There was a brief pause and I decided to cut to the chase. “So I was wondering if maybe you’d like to come to work with me on Saturday.” I hoped it didn’t sound as lame as it had come out.

“Yeah?” she questioned, yet again surprised.

“Well, this might be too much too soon, and if it is…and you feel uncomfortable with it, it’s fine. I was thinking if you were free, and didn’t mind making the drive out here, you could come down tomorrow and we could have dinner. You know, get to know my world a bit. You could stay at my house…crash in the guest room,” I quickly added. I didn’t want her to think I thought we’d be hooking up that night, “And you could go to work with me Saturday.”

“Umm…” she mumbled. “You’re sure me joining you at work will be okay?”

I rolled my eyes. Always the worrywart. “Yes, Hannah,” I answered plainly. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t think it was okay.” Ouch. I grimaced at my words. I’d sounded abrasive, harsh even. Reason number eight million I was single. I knew my patience threshold was short. I struggled with understanding people who approached things with reservation. I knew she was only trying to make sure, but again, why would I ask if I hadn’t known it was okay?

“Okay,” she grumbled. Clearly, judging by her tone, she hadn’t liked my answer either.

“I didn’t mean to sound rude,” I clarified. “Sorry.”

There was a long pause and I just knew the next words out of her mouth would either be no, I can’t or let me think about it.

“What time tomorrow?”

“Well, actually, I have a property I need to go look at. Would you want to go? Then we could go to dinner?” This entire thing sounded awful. I was basically asking her to drive to BFE and run errands with me and then go to work. I realized while I’d been aiming to just try and figure out a way to see her—spend time with her—it probably sounded more like I was squeezing her in. I was doing a stellar job at shitting all over this invite.

“Okay,” she murmured. “What time?”

Widening my eyes in shock, I answered, “Could you be here by five? I know that’s kind of early on a work day—”

“Fridays are writing days for me, so I can make it work.”

Writing day…yes, she’s a writer. I hadn’t really asked her much about that. I clenched my eyes closed. Damn, I’m an asshole. Where the hell had my head been? She probably thought I didn’t give a shit. I made a mental note to ask her more about it when I saw her tomorrow.

“Okay, good,” I stammered. I really needed this call to end before I said something else terrible. “I’ll text you my address.”

“Sounds good.”