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She stood and stepped back. “Hey, you offered. I can take an Uber.” She smoothed her hair and rolled her shoulders.
“Not a lot of Uber drivers on the island. A few, but I wouldn’t bank on that during the day.”
Fire lit her eyes, but her shoulders sagged. “Lucas, what do you want?”
“I want to eat those chicken and biscuits and about ten other things you make.” I rested my arm on the counter. “Let me pick you up tomorrow, and before we go to my house, we’ll stop at a car dealer and see if they have something you’re interested in. I’m a good guy, Jo. Sometimes you look like you don’t think so. You're helping me, and I want to help you. It’s how I do things.”
“You’re paying me to do a job. I can do the rest on my own.”
“Why won’t you let me help you?”
She sighed. “Fine, we can go tomorrow. Then, you’ll leave me to my work?”
I nodded.
“I doubt I’ll be interested in anything. Sheila and I have been through a lot. I won’t just dump her.”
“Who is Sheila?”
“My car.”
“You named your car?”
“Sure. Men name things all the time. Boats, bats, dicks. Why can’t I name my car?”
Her sexy mouth saying anything about a dick sent a zing to mine. I bet those full lips tasted as sweet as her cake.
Her apartment buildingwas set back from the water. A dog barked inside a lower unit while I climbed the stairs the following afternoon. She opened before I could knock.
“Hi.” Her eyes flashed, and she stepped into me to close her door. I had to move to keep from being pushed, but her ass brushed my dick before I did. Another zing.
She turned and dropped her keys in a small backpack and flung it across her shoulders. She wore loose cotton pants and a snug T-shirt underneath her fleece-lined raincoat. Her thick, curly hair was once again held back by a bandana. Her nails were short with no polish, and as far as I could tell, she didn’t wear makeup.
She stood still; a white chef’s coat lay across her arm as she blinked up at me. “Lead the way,” she said.
I stayed alert as we descended the stairs. A curtain rustled as we moved past, and a couple of guys across the street slowed their stroll.
“Did you lock up? Does your door have a deadbolt?”
“What?” She looked around, seeing the guys, but she didn’t hesitate. “Yes. And yes. You know I’ve lived on my own for almost ten years and in big cities. It’s not a Belltown high rise, but I’ve lived in worse places.”
“How did you know I had a condo in Belltown?”
“Ha, you do?” She chuckled. “Lucky guess. Nice car, by the way. Did you get a punch in your bro card for this?” Was that a crack at me? She moved to the passenger side door.
“Uh, thanks.” A Mercedes S 560 Cabriolet. Not a Tesla or an Audi, both beloved by the tech industry. It was one more thing that made me stand out from the pack. Some people thought convertibles made little sense in the Pacific Northwest. Convertibles made the most sense here. We had beautiful summer days that didn’t get too hot. And though it was cold in the winter, it wasn’t like the east coast freeze-your-balls-off temps. Sure it rained here, but you usually knew when it was coming so you could leave the top up. I loved this car.
“If this is your idea of a sensible car around here, I’d be making a mistake taking your advice,” she said, but her smile was more genuine today, and it felt like a win. More than with any other woman in a long time.
“Just wait for a sunny day. I’ll put the top down, and you’ll change your mind.” She rolled her eyes and opened the car door.
Jo had emailed the list of supplies she needed for the first meals, and I ordered what I could get from the local grocery. “After the dealership, we can swing by and get the food order.” Jo nodded, her expression shuttered, and the sound of the road drowned out the silence between us.
“What about that last one?”I asked after we had seeneverySUV-type vehicle on the lot.
“I don’t think so.”
“Why? It’s perfect. It’s even blue, the same color as your Sheila used to be before the primer and rust took over.”
