Tied Up in Knots by Mary Calmes Page A

fashionable in her asymmetrical sweater with the shawl collar, jeans, and knee-high platform brown leather boots, all under a black swing coat. Both women looked classy, ready for a night on the town.
    I got a quick, easy smile from each of them, which I returned before I was facing front once more.
    I felt a shiver of dread because occasionally, I still worried whether I was enough for Ian Doyle. After all, the world was full of men and women more attractive than me who had way less baggage.
    “Miro?”
    I turned sharply to see a pretty blond woman dressed more like me, very casual, ready not to go out, but just to go back home after this.
    We were both in old jeans and T-shirts, but whereas mine was under a white wool knit button-up cardigan, hers was under a hoodie and a motorcycle jacket. Her over-the-knee distressed black leather boots were as flat as my white Converse sneakers. Neither of us had dressed up at all.
    “Yes,” I answered as she closed on me, hand out in greeting.
    “I’m Stacy Qureshi. I’m Mo’s wife.”
    I smiled at her even as I shook her hand. “I’m sorry, I haven’t met—Mo?”
    “Mohammed,” she said kindly, looking at me askance.
    “Yeah, I’m a bit out of the loop.”
    “Don’t worry about it. It’s just great to finally put a face to the name, or, you know, part of a face, at least,” she teased. “Lights too bright in here for you, marshal? Gotta wear shades in the terminal?”
    I pointed at my eyes under the aviators I had on. “I got hit on the job. It looks worse than it is, but still. I don’t wanna scare people.”
    She waved a hand dismissively. “Sweetheart, I’m here to pick up a Green Beret. You think he comes home abrasion-free?”
    I chuckled and took off my glasses, hanging them on the collar of my T-shirt.
    “Oh, see,” she sighed. “He’s gorgeous.”
    “You’re very nice.”
    “No,” she said impishly. “Really not. Kind of a bitch, actually, but you’ll learn that and find it charming down the road.”
    I grinned at her.
    “Oh yes, definitely pretty. I can totally see you and Ian together. That must be something when you guys are out together, stopping traffic and all.”
    The chatter behind us ceased instantly.
    “It’s Ian. Everybody looks at him.”
    She nodded. “Yes, I’m aware. The first time I met him, my husband said ‘You’re drooling.’”
    She was fun, I liked her already. “It’s really nice to meet you,” I said sincerely.
    “Oh, you too,” she said, slipping her arm though mine, closing the distance between us. “I kept meaning to pick Mo up at least once so I could check you out after my husband told me you and Ian were together.”
    “Ian told Mo about me?”
    “He told all the guys, and frankly, I was thrilled.”
    “You were?”
    She nodded, waving to another woman wearing a sweater dress, leggings, and boots who came darting over to us. “I was. I always worried about Ian because there was never anyone he talked about or who came here to grab him after an op, and that was so sad.”
    “Hey, girl,” a beautiful woman said as she reached Stacy, leaning in to give her a hug. “How are you?”
    She was the kind of woman you watched walk by on the street: brilliant smile that made her dimples pop, big sepia eyes framed in long thick lashes, and gorgeous smooth brown skin with golden bronze undertones. I would bet the reason for the size of the rock on her finger was her husband wanting to send a clear, concise message to any would-be suitors before he was forced to kill them with his pinky. The man was a Green Beret, after all.
    “I’m good,” Stacy replied before squeezing my bicep tight. “Zahra, this is Miro, Ian’s guy.”
    Zahra’s whole face lit up. “Oh, it’s so good to finally meet you,” she said warmly, like she meant every word, walking around Stacy to give me a hug. It was nice. She wasn’t one of those hover huggers where you barely felt it. Instead, she grabbed and squeezed. I was a fan