forward. “You look like you could use a little trouble—all buttoned up like that.”
She glanced down at her dress shirt, suddenly self-conscious. She unwittingly picked at the top button, a momentary flutter for the otherwise cool and level-headed Samantha Wyatt.
“I’ve got enough on my plate, Wes,” she said after a moment. “Don’t need you adding to the mix.”
“School, ROTC—” he finished for her. “It’s no wonder you aren’t bored stiff already.”
“Yeah, well, we can’t all be party animals like you.”
Wes cocked his head. “What makes you say that?”
“Saw you at the Sig party,” Samantha answered flatly.
“Really?” Wes picked up another rib. That had been a few weeks ago. He’d handed over the new fake IDs to the president of the frat, though he doubted she’d know about that. Sam had never been sponsored for a fake ID, and he couldn’t recall seeing her before he’d taken her picture at the Arches. But she seemed to know about him. Or at least thought she knew something about him. He wondered briefly if she’d seen him hook-up with a girl or two that night.
“You recognized me,” Wes discerned after a moment of weighted silence. “You knew I took your picture that day, and yet you didn’t say anything.”
Samantha shrugged, though she fiddled with her drink; another brief tell.
Wes had no idea what she knew about him or his MO, but he knew that whatever she did know, she didn’t like. And he’d have to change that.
“Tell you what, Samantha Wyatt—let’s you and I make a deal.”
“This oughtta be good,” she drawled.
“Let’s agree to be honest with one another. The good, the bad, and the ugly,” Wes continued, briefly wondering if he’d lost his damn mind. “Let’s start there and see what we find, shall we?”
Sam considered him for a long moment, expression quizzical, as if she were looking for a sleight of hand. “You have more to lose than to gain on that deal. You know being honest with me probably won’t play in your favor.”
Wes just shrugged. “You already think I’m full of shit—your words, not mine,” he pointed out. “So if we resolve to be honest with each other, I actually stand to gain a great deal.”
“Like what?”
“One, I learn more about you. And two, you might even learn to like me a little when you realize I’m not running game on you.”
“You telling me that won’t run game is actually you running game,” she answered with a laugh.
Wes raised his hands in a supplication. “I swear on my mama’s college tuition.”
Samantha crossed her arms. Wes saw the challenge in her eyes—knew she didn’t think he’d rise to the occasion and back up his own play when pressed.
“You’re wondering if I actually have a mama, aren’t you?” Wes teased.
“The thought did cross my mind,” Samantha confessed. “You must think awfully high of yourself if you think my knowing more about you will make you more attractive to me than lying through that good-lookin’ smile of yours.”
“So you admit you find me attractive.”
“Oh, brother.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve got to go.”
Wes snagged her hand as she slid from the booth. “I bartend over at Dixie’s. Come and see me Tuesday night?”
He felt her pulse—the sudden quickening—and he smiled. Got her.
Chapter 7
September—Monday Morning
Language Lab, Texas A&M University
S A M A N T H A
S am tugged at her headphones, jotting down her final listening notes for her Mandarin course. The auditory learning wasn’t coming as easy for her as she would have liked, but at least she had a head start with the written characters. Japanese Kanji and traditional Chinese characters weren’t so far off from one another that it felt like she was learning something entirely new, but Sam had to practice twice as hard to get a handle on listening to and translating basic sentences back into English. She was utterly focused on the recording when
She glanced down at her dress shirt, suddenly self-conscious. She unwittingly picked at the top button, a momentary flutter for the otherwise cool and level-headed Samantha Wyatt.
“I’ve got enough on my plate, Wes,” she said after a moment. “Don’t need you adding to the mix.”
“School, ROTC—” he finished for her. “It’s no wonder you aren’t bored stiff already.”
“Yeah, well, we can’t all be party animals like you.”
Wes cocked his head. “What makes you say that?”
“Saw you at the Sig party,” Samantha answered flatly.
“Really?” Wes picked up another rib. That had been a few weeks ago. He’d handed over the new fake IDs to the president of the frat, though he doubted she’d know about that. Sam had never been sponsored for a fake ID, and he couldn’t recall seeing her before he’d taken her picture at the Arches. But she seemed to know about him. Or at least thought she knew something about him. He wondered briefly if she’d seen him hook-up with a girl or two that night.
“You recognized me,” Wes discerned after a moment of weighted silence. “You knew I took your picture that day, and yet you didn’t say anything.”
Samantha shrugged, though she fiddled with her drink; another brief tell.
Wes had no idea what she knew about him or his MO, but he knew that whatever she did know, she didn’t like. And he’d have to change that.
“Tell you what, Samantha Wyatt—let’s you and I make a deal.”
“This oughtta be good,” she drawled.
“Let’s agree to be honest with one another. The good, the bad, and the ugly,” Wes continued, briefly wondering if he’d lost his damn mind. “Let’s start there and see what we find, shall we?”
Sam considered him for a long moment, expression quizzical, as if she were looking for a sleight of hand. “You have more to lose than to gain on that deal. You know being honest with me probably won’t play in your favor.”
Wes just shrugged. “You already think I’m full of shit—your words, not mine,” he pointed out. “So if we resolve to be honest with each other, I actually stand to gain a great deal.”
“Like what?”
“One, I learn more about you. And two, you might even learn to like me a little when you realize I’m not running game on you.”
“You telling me that won’t run game is actually you running game,” she answered with a laugh.
Wes raised his hands in a supplication. “I swear on my mama’s college tuition.”
Samantha crossed her arms. Wes saw the challenge in her eyes—knew she didn’t think he’d rise to the occasion and back up his own play when pressed.
“You’re wondering if I actually have a mama, aren’t you?” Wes teased.
“The thought did cross my mind,” Samantha confessed. “You must think awfully high of yourself if you think my knowing more about you will make you more attractive to me than lying through that good-lookin’ smile of yours.”
“So you admit you find me attractive.”
“Oh, brother.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve got to go.”
Wes snagged her hand as she slid from the booth. “I bartend over at Dixie’s. Come and see me Tuesday night?”
He felt her pulse—the sudden quickening—and he smiled. Got her.
Chapter 7
September—Monday Morning
Language Lab, Texas A&M University
S A M A N T H A
S am tugged at her headphones, jotting down her final listening notes for her Mandarin course. The auditory learning wasn’t coming as easy for her as she would have liked, but at least she had a head start with the written characters. Japanese Kanji and traditional Chinese characters weren’t so far off from one another that it felt like she was learning something entirely new, but Sam had to practice twice as hard to get a handle on listening to and translating basic sentences back into English. She was utterly focused on the recording when
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