9. February 14th

FEbrUARY 14TH

Kai

It was Monday morning,and things had been weird, for lack of a better word. There was a supercharge in the air since breakfast the other day, but oddly, it wasn't uncomfortable.

Unsettling. That's the best word I can use to describe it.

Right now, she was supervising Waters and the construction crew as they assembled the obstacle course materials for shipping to the set location when she noticed him take a limping step and wince. She waited until the other men walked over to another set of materials before approaching him. "What's with the leg?" she asked.

He turned his head, aviators reflecting her in their lenses. She noticed fine lines at the corner of his eyes by the frames. At first, she wasn't sure he would answer her, figuring her G.I. Joe wouldn't admit weakness of any kind. "Old injury," he grunted, then walked over to correct an error in the builders" knot on the support.

Head tilted, she watched him closer. He straddled the band of wooden planks, lifting them up so that one of the crew could slide a belt underneath them and then cinch them together. His muscles bunched and flexed, but he appeared to be barely exerting much force. She shivered. When he walked back her way, she pursued. "Do you need to take a break?"

He looked over the top of his aviators at her.

"Okay, be a macho asshole, G.I. Joe. Heaven forbid you're as human as the rest of us."

"You need another hot chocolate? You weren't all sunshine and light this morning yourself. And here I went all out on Valentine's Day."

Wow, what a grouch.

"Pardon me if I was expecting flowers," she shot back.

She heard him mumble something about the impossibility of lilacs in California.

Hands on her hips, she reminded him, "I warned you I'm not a morning person. If hot chocolate and peppermint cure it, who am I to complain?" Noticing the tightness of his jaw she asked, "Are you not sleeping? This is going to get way more tiring as we go. Maybe you should find someone to split time with."

He grunted. "Your job was unexpected, and I've had to pull some extra duties. The guy I've been covering for will be back on duty tonight. I'll be fine."

Shrugging, she checked her watch. A sigh escaped her. "Well, as stimulating as this argument is, it's time to get ready for Big Bird and the rest of the Sesame Street gang. You don't have to go with me. I sincerely doubt the producers will attack en masse." She turned her back and began to walk toward her trailer.

"Rules four and five," he called out.

"Stubborn jackass."

"That's redundant, as is my reminder." He caught up to be in step with her. "Originally, I thought I needed a swear jar with you. Now I think I need a Rule Reminder jar."

"Argh!" She stopped and whirled to face him. "Some days you are so… frustrating!"

He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward her trailer. "C'mon, Grumpy, let's get this over with. We've got more important shit to do today."

They headed back to her trailer, his hand going to her lower back as she stepped from the curb to the street. It was eighty-some degrees today, but suddenly, the temperature seemed to get significantly hotter. He needed to stop with the touching. None of it was overt or even close to sexual. Helping her out of the truck. Hand to the back as he guided her toward a table or somewhere else he wanted her to go. Yesterday, he'd tucked a tag into the back of her workout gear before they went for her daily run.

Gah! Perfect boyfriend material.

And yeah, he'd meant it when he said she went nowhere without him. That meant he was working out with her, eating meals with her, and going to meetings with her that had nothing to do with SEAL stuff. He kept reiterating he didn't want Big Bird to have any opening to get at her unawares, and when she started poking at him about that, he just argued that everything on the film was related to SEALs; therefore, he was doing his job to make sure she got it right. Finally, she yelled at him that he might as well just move into her house with her as it was the only place he didn't go. He mumbled, "That would be a big help," so she just threw her hands up in the air, stomped off, and muttered about "crazy, overprotective military types."

After she collectedher laptop and stuffed it into the Backpack of Death, Waters grabbed her bag and followed her to the corporate offices and her last meeting with Stapleton before heading out to location. Entering the offices, she didn't break pace as she passed security, flashing her badge.

In the elevator, she stood facing forward, watching the elevator numbers go up. "Now, pencil-dick is going to be extra pricky with you there, so don't go all caveman on me in the meeting. I can handle him."

"He behaves, I behave."

"Hmph. Are you always this pushy with your clients?"

"Probably worse," he admitted, "because I've seen you at work, and I know you can handle yourself verbally. But Kubrick, I do have lines he will not cross, and I will not apologize for my actions if he does."

Gah! It should not make me tingle that he thinks I can push Big Bird around.

The doors opened, and Kubrick pushed forward, Waters' barely present touch at her lower back leading her out of the elevator. She was coming to think of that as her hot spot.

Instead of my G-spot, it'll be my h-spot.

God forbid he ever put actual pressure there.

She waved to Big Bird's assistant and grabbed her backpack from Waters. She loved that he was willing to do nice things for her that were unnecessary, like carrying the Backpack of Death. But he also understood that inside Big Bird's office, the backpack was a piece of weaponry meant to intimidate. To show how strong she was physically, implying she was not a woman to be trampled or ignored.

She barreled through the conference room doors without bothering to knock, effectively stopping whatever conversation had been going on prior to her arrival. Swinging the bag onto the polished table, it landed with a thunk, making one bean-cruncher jump in his seat. Internally, she gloated that she frightened at least one of these men. However, she would never show her enjoyment outwardly. That would be a power play.

She surveyed the table. The only empty seat was at the foot of the table, along the side, and closest to the door.

Really? He's going to try this power play with me? Not going to work. Time to level the playing field.

She removed her laptop from the bag, opened it, and powered it up. Pointedly, she moved the chair from the placement designed to make her weak and rolled it to the end of the table opposite Big Bird. Now, instead of being the least important guest at the table, she was "hostess" to his "host," leveling the power between them. She sat, and with a smile that did not reach her eyes, she asked, "Shall we begin?"