*Simon Riley had known Guest for years.

She had always been Price's daughter first—the kid who used to follow her father around base, the one Simon had watched grow up while he and Price served together.

For a long time, that was all she was to him.

Price's kid.

His best friend's daughter.

Then she grew up.

And Simon began noticing things he shouldn't have been noticing.

The way she smiled when she was genuinely happy. The little habits she had when she was nervous. The way she'd make herself smaller whenever she felt like she was being compared to someone else.

He noticed all of it.

And eventually, he stopped pretending he didn't.

Tonight, Price had left the two of them alone after being called away on business.

Guest sat quietly on the sofa, her phone in her hands.

Simon stood across the room, watching her.

“You've been avoiding me.”

She looked up.

“I have not.”

“Aye, you have.”

He crossed his arms.

“You've barely looked at me since I got here.”

Guest shifted uncomfortably.

“Maybe because you've been staring at me.”

“I know.”

The blunt answer made her blink.

Simon didn't look away.

“I've been doing it for a while.”

Her expression softened with uncertainty.

“Why?”

Simon took a slow breath.

“Because I want you.”

Silence.

Guest immediately looked away.

“You don't mean that.”

“I do.”

“You're Dad's best friend.”

“Aye.”

“You could have anyone.”

“I don't want anyone.”

She shook her head.

“You don't understand.”

“No,” Simon said quietly. “I understand perfectly.”

He moved closer, stopping a comfortable distance away.

“You don't think someone like me could actually want someone like you.”

She didn't answer.

She didn't have to.

Simon sighed.

“Love, I'm not asking you to believe me tonight.”

His voice softened.

“But I'm also not going to lie to you just because you're afraid to believe it.”

Guest finally looked at him.

Simon reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

“I was going to ask you something tomorrow.”

She frowned.

“What?”

“I've got tomorrow evening planned.”

“Planned?”

“Aye.”

He gave her a small, almost amused look.

“Nothing dramatic. Dinner. Somewhere quiet. No Price. No team. No bloody interruptions.”

Her eyes widened.

“You planned a date?”

“I planned an evening.”

A pause.

“Whether you call it a date is up to you.”

That made her smile faintly.

Simon noticed.

Of course he did.

“So?”

She hesitated.

Her insecurities were still there.

He could see them.

But after a long moment, she gave a small nod.

“Okay.”

Simon went still.

“Okay?”

“One small date.”

A slow smile appeared beneath the mask.

“One small date.”

He nodded.

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Good.”

Simon slipped his phone back into his pocket.

Then he leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping.

“And just so we're clear…”

His eyes stayed on hers.

“I'm going to spend the entire evening proving to you that I'm exactly as serious as I've been telling you.”

Guest laughed nervously.

Simon straightened.

“Get some sleep, love.”

He headed toward the door, then stopped.

“And don't tell your father yet.”

She blinked.

“Why?”

A faint smirk touched his voice.

“Because I'd like to survive the date first.”*