He sighs and kicks the floor, rolling his shoulders around. “Well, if I’m ever in London, I might give you a call.”
“You do that. If I’m free, I’ll slot you in. I wouldn't want to miss another good time.”
I start to turn, ready to get this journey underway, but feel him pull me backwards. His lips are on mine immediately, one arm wrapping around my back to pull me closer. It’s deep, intense, and so passionate I barely catch a breath in the midst of our kiss.
I’m practically swooning under him by the time he pulls back, absolutely sure I might fall over, but for his physicality holding me firm.
“You were also a damn good lay, Ivy Broderick.” Another kiss lands briefly on my lips before he stands me square again and takes a few steps away. I’m so busy staring at his sparkling green eyes that I can barely see anything else.
“Go. Your gate's flashing.” Is it? I’d forgotten I was even at an airport for a minute, as the heat rising in my cheeks proves. “I’m not leaving until I watch you go through safely.”
I turn again, unable to form sentences after that kiss, and look back over my shoulder as I start walking. True to his word, he doesn’t once take his eyes off me or move until I’m through and he’s out of sight.
Good lord, I need a drink.
Chapter Five
BLAKE
Iwait until she enters the tunnel and I can’t see her anymore before walking away. I’ve done my job, played my role and ensured she’s safe and on her way home. A short walk takes me back to my car, and I can't keep the feel of that last kiss out of my mind.
Reversing, I roll my car into traffic and make the stop-start trip back across to my building.The photos Ivy was looking over are still on the table when I finally get back. A visual scrapbook of my time over here. There are some great pieces. Stark, vibrant, and arresting in their own way. Precisely what my line of photography should deliver. They’ve certainly paid more than my role in the Army did, but then again, it’s never been about money.
The meeting with Manny and the women might pan out further, but after what went down the last couple of days, there’s a question in my head. Should I be chasing after something that could slide south so easily? Every journalist or photographer working knows of James Foley and his fate, and Ivy's damn lucky she didn’t end up in the same situation, or worse. Maybe being out in the field just stirred old memories—ones filled with mortar shells and IEDs, and I’m over-cautious. But it isn’t just the might or might nots making me think over my next steps. It's Ivy and the way she talked about her family.
Family.
It's not a word that holds meaning anymore, and it's hard to relate to what she was talking about when I don’t have a reference point. But then, it’s hardly like I’ve tried or made an effort. I haven’t been back to visit Mum since I left the RLC, and she’s just about the only family I have anymore.
I wrench the door of the tiny fridge open, grab a beer, and drop back onto the unmade bed. The room seems small—penned-in all of a sudden, and I know it’s because Ivy has been here. Her enthusiasm, carefree nature, and attitude make everything in her path seem achievable, despite the circumstances.
Perhaps it's time to move on?
I’ve been here for longer than any other stop, and I can’t even say it’s because of the work. It's only a matter of time, or chance, before I get into a jam that Tanner and the team can’t help me out of. However, I have no regrets about our last outing. Hell no, I’d go through it all again to ensure Ivy was on that flight home.
Ivy fucking Broderick.
I can’t deny the connection I felt. And still do. It’s more than just keeping her safe while we were being shot at, as proved by the time since that reference point. Shit, it’s been a long time since I connected with another woman at all. One-night stands or just simple stress relief come with the territory, but there is something about Ivy and it's not just her obvious appeal.
But no one has…
I drain the beer and sit back up, restless and irritated, and stop that chain of thought.
It’s been eight years. Maybe I should think about a life beyond what I point my lens at for once. After all, what have I got to show for myself? Iconic and memorable photos tell other people’s stories. Their plights, their struggles. Not mine. When did it become so easy to shut off and only focus on what was happening around me, ignoring my own life in the process?
I already know the answer to that question.
The fridge holds another beer, so I help myself and grab the laptop from my bag. I fire it up and scroll through some of the photos I first started shooting for the Army. It seems like a lifetime ago now. I was all in. Dedicated, focused. Anything for the job. Hard to believe it was only a handful of years ago. Those years were spent in a combat camera team, following special forces teams and other missions around the globe. My one and only priority was my work. Nothing else existed. Certainly not family.
I slam the laptop closed and scrub my face. This is stupid. A change of scenery is all I need—a new challenge.
My phone is always quiet. Sure, I have contacts: brothers I’ve served alongside, teammates. But friends? I turn it over in my hand a few times and then slide my finger across the screen. Dan’s number is one of only two in my favourites. The look of his name makes me work out the time difference in my head and figure he’ll still be up.
“Hey, bud. Long time no speak.” No matter how long, he’s always pleased to hear from me and doesn’t that just make me feel like shit.
“Not bad. Not bad. Thought I’d check in.”
“Well, it’s nice to hear from you. You still over there playing in the sandbox?”
