of them. She was strong and powerful and never sucked in by something as temporal as sex. She had goals and rules and a plan. And if all that failed, she had Danish.
She started back for the house. There were more people out on the street now, and the sun was rising in the sky. She smiled and greeted those who waved at her. She liked the friendliness of the town.
At the corner, she checked before crossing. As she glanced to her left, she saw a man jogging away from her. His stride was slightly uneven, and his pace slower than most. As the information registered in her brain, she recognized Kipling.
There were scars on his legs and a hitch to his gait. She thought about all that he would have gone through after his accident and wondered about the courage it took to recover from something like that. No, not recover. Thrive. It spoke highly of his character.
She crossed the street and made her way to her rental house. Once inside, she left the Danish on the table and hurried into her bedroom. After closing the door, she got her guitar out of the closet and sat on the edge of the bed.
Words tumbled around a half-formed melody. Aware of Starr sleeping on the other side of the hall, she strummed quietly, pausing every now and then to write down lyrics or notes.
Too many ways and too many days. Testing and hurting, I see you alone. Too many nights of wanting it right and I’m walking...
She pressed her palm against the strings as she struggled with the line.
The song beckoned. The need to get lost in finding the right combination of notes and syllables grew. Of meaning and phrases. She glanced at her small bedside clock. She had to be at work, and she didn’t want Starr to hear her. Better to start her morning.
She drew in a breath, then compromised by setting her phone timer for forty-five minutes. When the beeper sounded, she forced herself to put away her guitar and shoved the worn notebook into her nightstand.
She had a real job, she reminded herself. A regular life. The rest of it—the songs and the music—were just play. She made deliberate choices for a reason. Staying in control was all that kept her safe. Vigilance, she reminded herself. Determination. She was stronger than her biology. She always would be.
KIPLING SET UP the new computers on the desks that had been delivered the previous week. He sorted the packing material into recycle and trash piles, then carried it all out back. When he returned, Destiny was walking into the HERO office.
“Right on time,” he said, taking in the jeans, boots and short-sleeved T-shirt she wore. She’d pulled her long hair back into a ponytail.
From what he could tell, she wasn’t wearing makeup. She used a small backpack for a handbag and certainly didn’t dress to impress anyone. She wasn’t the kind of woman who kept a man waiting “just five more minutes” while she primped. All pluses in his book.
“I see the computers arrived,” she said by way of greeting. “I’ll let my tech guys know. They’ll be here in a couple of days to load and test the software. While they’re doing that, I’ll be mapping the terrain. Then we’ll get started on training you and your volunteers on STORMS.”
“Good morning,” he said. “How was your evening?”
She raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t take you for someone who lived for social niceties, but sure. I can do that. Good morning, Kipling. Did you have a nice jog this morning?”
“How did you know I was out jogging?”
She shifted her weight from foot to foot. “I went out to get some breakfast and saw you. Going the other way. I would have called out, but you were too far away. I wasn’t spying or anything.”
“I never thought you were.”
She’d been watching him. A year ago, he would have read that as a good sign. One of interest. Today he was less sure. She could have been put off by the scars or his limp. Although she didn’t strike him as overly concerned about that sort of thing.
“It’s the small-town thing,” she continued. “You can’t really escape anyone. Not that you were trying to. Or anything.”
She dropped her backpack on the desk and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Feeling awkward?” he asked.
“Very.”
“Want to move on to another topic?”
“More than you know.”
He grinned. “Then let’s get down to business.”
Unlike the mayor’s office, there was no comfortable sofa-and-chair arrangement. In the command center, conversations took place around a metal table with folding chairs. He and Destiny settled at one corner. She pulled a laptop out of her backpack and booted it. While it did its thing, she handed over a couple sheets of paper.
“This is the preliminary schedule,” she told him. “Mapping and testing will take about a month. We’ll have multiple practice rescues that will all go badly. For those, we want as small a group participating as possible. So no one gets discouraged.”
“You’re assuming the worst.”
“I’ve done this before,” she told him. “Man and machine don’t work well together without training. Once we get the kinks worked out, we’ll broaden the practice areas and bring in more people.”
She was sitting close enough that they could both see her laptop screen, which also meant he could inhale the scent of her shampoo. Something floral, he thought. A bit of a surprise considering how she didn’t seem all that interested in being girly with her clothes or accessories.
Unexpected nuances. Everyone had them. They were some of his favorite things to discover. What else was she hiding? Was there a passionate woman behind the “all business” exterior? Was she quiet in bed, or a screamer? He was open to either.
She turned to get something out of her backpack. As she moved, her ponytail swung toward him. Dark red hair curled slightly at the ends, begging to be touched. He knew the strands would be soft. For a second he allowed himself the fantasy of her pulling out the band holding her hair in place and shaking her head. Like in one of those cheesy perfume commercials. Maybe she would crook her finger at him.
Unlikely, he thought, holding in a grin at the image. Destiny didn’t strike him as the sultry type. He would guess she was more practical than seductive. Again, not a problem for him.
She set more papers on the desk and scanned the top sheet. “You’re going to be hiring a second-in-command?”
He forced his attention back to the job at hand. “Yes. I have interviews lined up for the next few weeks. There will also be a couple of paid staffers.” She made a couple of notes as he spoke. “The volunteer force is impressive. Mostly firefighters and cops, along with a few locals who—”
She turned to him. “Sam Ridge.”
“You know him?”
“What? No. I saw
