I roll the window down. “Where’d you come from? It’s late.”
She motions to a small park between two of the buildings beside us. “I was walking the parade route and saw your truck. The better question is why you’re parked on the side of the road. Let me in.”
“That’s not a goo—”
She’s trying the door handle. It’s locked.
“Wait.” She furrows her brow. “Were you going to say it’s not a good idea?” Her tone shifts from surprised to mockingly dramatic. “Surely you’ve had enough recharge time for the next lesson.”
“It’s not that,” I fumble defensively.
Blake laughs from the passenger seat.
“Seriously? That bench seat has room for three.”
“You shouldn’t be out here all alone.”
“I’m not. I’m here for class.”
“Now isn’t a good time.”
Her playful expression falls. “Got it. We had our fun. It’s time to move on.” She pulls her phone out and seems to be texting.
Blake leans over. “What are you doing?”
“Letting Trena know I’m ready to move to Eggplant Canyon. You have my number if you ever want to visit.” She takes a step away from the truck.
Blake is out of the truck pursuing her before I realize he even unlocked the door. “Get in, Firecracker. You aren’t moving to Eggplant Canyon.”
A hint of playfulness returns. “Give me a good reason.”
He motions between himself and me. “Us. We’re your reason. Get in the truck.”
“Doesn’t seem Dad Bod wants me to.”
My entire body tenses. Do I really have a dad bod? Not much. I look at my waist. Okay, barely. I’m in good shape though. “Get in.” I relent. I’m not sure of my motive. I want to keep her close. I also want to make sure she isn’t on the street when the currier shows up.
But she really shouldn’t be on our stakeout.
She smiles and hurries to Blake’s door, sliding onto the seat. Blake’s right behind her. “Since we’re all free, how about lesson number two? I’m a quick study when I’m interested in the subject… which would not include math or English or science or—”
“We can’t do a lesson here.” The second the words are out of my mouth, I consider that Cecilia doesn’t have the same boundaries as everyone else.
“It’s on my syllabus.”
“You made a syllabus?” I ask.
She taps her temple. “It’s in here.”
What am I going to do, tell her that we’re on a stakeout? “We’re working.”
She grins and makes a show of looking around us at the moonlit street, smattering of parked cars, and shops that are long since closed. Her eyebrows are raised in a challenge. “Why not have a little fun in a truck… while you’reworking?”
Blake saves me from imploding. “We’re developers. A lot of these shops are vacant. An investor is interested in sprucing up the area.”
“And how does it help for you to sit here in the dark? With your tinted windows I almost didn’t realize you were in the truck.”
“Just studying the area.” Truth is a good option. I’m always best with that. Which reminds me that she has some explaining to do.
