Fight For Me by Claudia Burgoa

Chapter Fifteen

Harrison

Today has been unusual.

Erase that. Every day since I met Luna has been different to say the least. After a mission, I usually do one of two things, check on my brothers or take a nap that lasts at least a day so I can recover my physical and mental energy. Not today though.

Today I went for option number three. I assumed my brothers were fine since neither one of them sent me a text telling me they were in the hospital—or needed me to bail them out of jail. My bed could wait. It was more important to see Luna after spending two weeks in Belarus searching for a hacker who tried to infiltrate The Pentagon.

In my head it made sense. I don’t regret it. Luna doesn’t sound happy about my two impromptu visits to the studio. I, on the other hand, I’m just thankful to see her gorgeous face. A face that’s slightly flushed. I’m not sure if it’s from work or because I fluster the fuck out of her. That's probably why for the last six blocks she insists on having rules.

At least, she agreed that I flustered her. Still, it doesn’t make sense as to why we have to set rules. During a mission we have protocols, but rules…that’s not what we have. However, I want her to feel comfortable around me.

“So, these rules,” I try to go back to the initial conversation since speaking about how much I frustrate her might not be the best move. “What kind of rules are we talking about?”

I like how her eyes brighten at the same time that her nostrils flare.

“What did I say wrong?”

“I’m suspicious about you,” she warns me as we continue walking. “Why are you suddenly agreeing?”

“Oh no. I haven’t agreed. I’m just curious about these”—I pause, clear my throat for dramatic effect—“rules.”

She groans.

I laugh.

“Dinner?” I ask.

“Not with you.”

“Actually, we’re having dinner with the family. You can text Hazel to confirm,” I offer.

That reminds me that I am in charge of dinner tonight. I pull out my phone to confirm that sushi is okay with everyone.

Harrison: Sushi?

Hazel: It’s not Sunday. You’re ruining Sushi Sunday.

Hunter: Yes to sushi.

Fitz: I can go for sushi. Stop designating food for every day of the week, Hazel. I hate French Friday.

Hazel: You hated the escargot. I promised not to cook them.

Fitz: You shouldn’t cook, period.

Scott: Sushi is fine.

Harrison: Perfect, just text the order. I’m almost there.

The group chat continues buzzing, but I ignore it. The majority agrees on eating that for dinner. Unless Luna doesn’t like it, that’s what we’re having tonight.

“Do you like sushi?” I ask as we get closer to Kurosawa, the Asian bistro close to Hazel’s place. She nods. “Then we can have some Sake and a long chat about your plans during your time in New York City.”

“My plans?” She shoots me a glare and shakes her head. “Rules, we need ground rules. For starters, you aren’t allowed to drop by the yoga studio.”

“I never got a thank you for the flowers,” I say ignoring her first rule. I subscribe to the studio. Also, I want to see her again.

I open the door of the restaurant and bow to her. “After you, my lady.”

She smells the flowers I gave her earlier, angles her face toward me, and smiles. “Thank you, they’re pretty.”

“You’re welcome. I’d like to point out that you’re more beautiful.” I kiss the tip of her nose and walk to the counter.

She laughs, shaking her head. “You come up with the funniest pick-up lines,” her tone is light. “So where do you get them? Cheesy Pick-Up Lines for Dummies? or How to Impress Your Girl for Sixth Graders?”

“I take it you’re not amused by my approach.” Or that my approach is making you uncomfortable because it’s working.

I take her hand and kiss it lightly.

“It’s entertaining,” she admits, and just when I feel like I’m winning, she crushes me with the reminder that she’s all business. “Though, I’m here to work.”

“I can multitask. We could add dating to the table,” I propose, winking at her.

“Dating and working isn’t my style.” She takes a step forward, since it’s our turn to order.

“What kind of men have you been dating, dear?” I shoot her an inquisitive gaze before paying attention to the guy behind the counter. “Hello, John.”

John’s eyebrows furrow. I point at his name tag, and he smiles while nodding. “Welcome to Kurosawa, will this be for here or to go?”

“To go, please.” I turn to Luna who is staring at the menu board. “Are you ready to order?”

“Can I have a SoHo sushi plate and two amazing rolls, please,” she requests, turning back to me when she’s done.

“Two more SoHo plates. Three orders of lobster rolls, two poke bowls with tuna, one with salmon, and one with shrimp, and five orders of tuna sashimi to go.” I read the order from my phone and then read the last text.

Hunter: Can you bring teriyaki chicken for Willow? She can’t eat raw fish. And hurry, Hazel is going insane.

Harrison: Why?

Hunter: We can’t give the news until everyone is here, including you.

News? What kind of news?

“Can you add an order of teriyaki chicken?”

“Name on the order?”

I scribble it on a paper while handing Luna a cup to distract her. “Do you want water?”

I glance down to find her busy going through her purse, ignoring my question. Once I pay for the food, I can resist being nosy, stretching my neck a little to see if she has any other hidden weapons akin to the sharp chopsticks she threatened me with on the day we met. For all I know, she could have an entire arsenal to kill a gang without breaking a sweat. Fuck. Why do I find that hot?

My new addiction is petite girls who look harmless and can kick my ass.

Or maybe just this one.

“Water?” I ask again. She finally pays attention to me.

“No. Thank you,” she answers distractedly. “I…just…”

“Next,” John calls the person behind us, he’s done with us.

Luna exhales, dropping her weight on one of her legs.

“You don’t have to buy me dinner,” she says, holding a rose-pale pink wallet.

All her things are original, handmade, and as cute as her. Disorganized, too. That wallet is full of folded receipts and papers. Does she need to save all that?

“Is that for your daily expenses?” I lightly touch her wallet. “Because there’s an app you can use to scan your receipts and email them as you go.”

“App?” She crooks an eyebrow, staring at her wallet. “You’re a strange person, Harrison Everhart. Can you stick to one subject?”

“Probably,” I answer, smiling at her frustrated face. “Did I fluster you again?”

“I could’ve paid for my own dinner,” she repeats, taking out a twenty-dollar bill and handing it to me.

“You’re welcome,” I say, pushing her hand lightly back to her wallet.

“Huh?”

“That’s what one says when someone buys you dinner,” I explain to her.

“One is talking in the third person.” The corners of her lips pull slightly. The smile brightens her face. My heartbeat accelerates as the scowl disappears. “Honestly, I should be the one paying for your dinner.”

“Why?”

She looks at my crotch, her eyes shining, and her face is red. Maybe because earlier she saw my dick while I was changing. Her honey color eyes remind me of one of Mom’s stained-glass windows. The one she donated to a church in Belize.

“Well, that little incident while you were changing in the Reiki room after yoga class.” Luna bites her lip, her face flushes.

“Dinner wouldn’t make things even—maybe you should show me yours.” I wink at her. “Just a glimpse, like the one you saw today.”

Her angelic laugh makes my heart beat fast.

“We need rules before things between us become blurry. Blurry isn’t healthy”—she pauses, staring at me for a couple of beats before she says—“or so I’ve heard.”

“Twenty-twenty vision.” I point at my eyes, lowering my voice and getting closer to her. “There’s no way things can become blurry—for me. I’m a sniper. I’m trained to detect things that many can’t. I see better than the average guy.”

The way she looks at me when she thinks I’m not paying attention combined with the way her body reacts—like how mine reacts to hers—is a big tell that she’s attracted to me. If only I could convince her that we could be great together.

“I notice the way your skin flushes. Or the way you bite your lip when I say something that excites you. You call it frustration, but I call it sexual tension.”

Mumbling in her ear, I say, “Your condition is pretty obvious.”

She chuckles, closing her eyes briefly as she shakes her head. “I have a condition? Is there a cure to what I have, Dr. Everhart?”

“Luna Hottie Everhart, your order is ready,” they call when the order is up. “Luna Hottie Everhart.”

Luna gasps, looking around the restaurant. “You have a death wish, Everhart.” She’s back to scowling at me.

“Yes, you have sexual frustration. And I know how to treat it. We can make rules around… your problem.” I smirk, leaning down to murmur in her ear before I head off to grab our food. “Since you seem to like roleplay, we can play doctor and I’ll take care of that itch.”

She gapes at me. If we were keeping score, I’d say Harrison one, Luna zero.