It had been a long day. It was turning into a longer evening.
“Hawke, I’m fine.” She was fairly certain it was the tenth time she’d said it. Unfortunately, Stringfellow Hawke didn’t look any more convinced this time than he had the first nine.
“Caitlin, you were almost killed today.”
The temper she’d been holding in check for most of the evening flared. “Look buster, I think I know that. I was there, remember?”
Caitlin clenched her fists to hide the shaking. If String or Dom saw the tremors they’d never leave and she didn’t want to explain what was really wrong with her.
She had to get them out of her house before the fraying grip she held on her temper snapped, and she said something that was unforgivable. She could just imagine that conversation:
She bit her lip to hold in the laughter as her imagination conjured up String’s reaction to that scenario.
She might have had a fantasy or two – he was a good looking man and he had that whole brooding thing going for him – but String had placed her firmly into the little sister category soon
after she’d shown up at Santini Air and there was no getting out of it. As her momma would say, ‘It was a damn shame.’
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