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“Good.”
“Great.” Bishop ground his teeth, remembering she was part of the Jared Westin family-and-friends plan. “We’ll take your ride. No problem.” She was going to be a pick-a-battle type person, and he wasn’t jackass enough to demand to drive every time.Whatever.He would survive.
She tilted her chin in a move so opposite the stubborn behavior she’d just displayed that it struck him as…delicate. DecidedlynotElla-esque.Damn it.He could not get a read on her. One minute, she was tough, and the next minute, soft.
“But”—the corners of her lips quirked—“don’t sneak any jerky before we go. It’ll stink and make me sick.”
Then she had to go and open her mouth. Bishop turned, ignoring her and heading straight for his next ration of beef jerky.
This job would kill him—not from high-flying bullets or enemy tangos, just a woman who drove him mad. But he was going to die with a belly full of beef jerky.
***
“Rocco, hey, boss.” Bishop jogged down the hall to catch his team leader, who didn’t stop.
“What?” Rocco asked as he continued on.
“I have a situation.”
“Deal with her. She’s hot. A model. A vegan. A tree hugger. Whatever. Deal with it, O’Kane. Don’t make me deal with you instead.” They rounded a corner, and Rocco never even looked his way.
This wasn’t going to be easy. “Right. I get all that—”
Rocco stopped abruptly, aggravation oozing from every pore. “Then what is it?”
Yeah, this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. “I didn’t connect the dots because she didn’t go by Ella.”
Lines deepened across Rocco’s brow as he groaned. “Excuse me?”
“Ella Leighton was Eloise Lewandowski, and I used to date her when we were in high school and college.”
Intel like that seemed best to throw out all at once. Though Bishop hadn’t known Rocco for long, so maybe his ass should be ready to duck and cover.
“You and the tree hugger?” Rocco’s face scored through shock to annoyance in a millisecond. “Were a thing?”
“We weredrasticallydifferent people back then, as evidenced by the fact that she used to use a different name.” That counted for something, right?
“Did you not read any of that file?” his boss snapped. “Eloise Lewandowskiwas in there. Listed under birth name.”
“I read the first few pages…” Or the first one… or two.
Bishop rubbed the back of his neck. On top of this, he wasn’t sure about his comfort level that everyone had likely checked out Eloise—or Ella, or whatever this crazy lady wanted to be called. For whatever this crazy anti-meat, anti–normal food, possibly anti–common sense—albeit still extraordinarily attractive—woman was, she was in his dating history.
“Dated, how?” Rocco grilled him.
Bishop blanked. “Excuse me?”
“Dated, and you fucked her a few times? Some one-night stands, promising her true love? And now that she’s seen your ugly mug, she’s on her way to Jared’s office,traumatized, and will be sending us a bill for her therapy?” Rocco paused to let the full effect of that scenario weigh heavily. “Or are we talking dated, she wanted to marry you, but you, I don’t know, joined up?”
“Err…” Bishop cleared his throat. “Closer to the latter, but, um, I think that…” He rubbed his hand over his jawline. “I…”
Rocco’s jaw tightened. “Does she hate you?”
“The… well… it’s complicated.”
“Shit. I am low on men this second,” Rocco growled. “Do you want this job?”
“Yes, sir.”