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Kimmie was doing it again, looking at him with that assessing gaze. It was like she couldn’t quite figure him out. Funny, but he didn’t think of himself as all that complex.
Finally, she spoke. “I see. And the Broadway crew is too…”
“Touristy.”
Wasn’t that pretty obvious? There were workers there during the day. In fact, there were employees in many of Nashville’s hotspots during the day. But there was nothing like the area where he lived.
“My first job was downtown,” Jesse said. “I was in high school and worked as a clerk for my dad’s law firm. He wanted me to go into the field. The Arcade was my escape.”
The Arcade was a short walkway filled with shops and restaurants. He’d grab lunch and sit at one of the small tables, people watching and counting down the minutes until he had to go back to that dark, stuffy office.
“After that, I took a job with an investment firm.” Jesse knew he probably had a nostalgic expression on his face, but he couldn’t help it. He was going right down memory lane. “My boss taught me everything I know about investing. I took a job in healthcare after that and invested most of the money I made. Soon, I had enough to start my own business.”
“Senior living communities,” Kimmie said. Probably noting his surprised expression, she rushed to explain. “I wouldn’t have agreed to get in the car with you today if I didn’t look you up first.”
“Yet you came into my condo without looking me up?”
She winced. “Okay. You have me there. My boss vouched for you. Said you’re not a serial killer. That’s about all I knew about you when I showed up.”
What she wasn’t saying was that the likelihood of a serial killer living in a penthouse worth more than a million dollars was pretty slim. It could happen, he supposed, but if so, it would make a pretty good movie because nobody expected something like that.
“I guess what you do is pretty risky.” He took the last bite of his food and set his fork down. He didn’t want this meal to be over, but he did need to get back to work soon, so it would have to be. “Meeting strangers to show them homes?”
“We do our due diligence,” Kimmie said. “Research people, meet in a public place first.”
“Like this?” Smiling, he gestured to indicate the empty tables around them. Turned out, there weren’t many people eating breakfast on a random Monday morning.
She nodded. “But I got in the car with you.”
“Yeah. You probably shouldn’t do that.”
He was perfectly safe, but he felt the sudden, overwhelming need to protect her from future dangers. It was none of his business, but emotion controlled his brain right now.
She set her napkin on top of her now-empty plate. “I’ll be honest. Most of the time I’m showing places to couples or youngish women. I’ve had very few single male clients. Not that I’m saying you’re single. You could be…”
There was no suppressing the smile that wanted to break out on his face at that. She was checking to see if he was single. Was that a sign she was into him? Maybe just a little?
“One hundred percent single,” he said. The words burst out of him. He didn’t mean to sound so...enthusiastic about the fact. “I work in a date or two when I can, but I stay pretty busy running my business.”
That time, she didn’t give him an assessing look. Instead, she nodded. “I keep putting off the relationship thing until my career is set. But it feels like it’s never going to be the right time. So I started dating again.”
The sharp pinprick of jealousy at that announcement startled Jesse. He’d literally just met the woman. How could he be bothered that she’d been on some dates recently? It wasn’t reasonable. Not at all. And Jesse prided himself on being a reasonable guy.
“Anyone promising?” Jesse retrieved his wallet and pulled out his credit card.
The move seemed to stun Kimmie, who stared at him for several seconds before speaking. “Just a bunch of bad first dates. Everyone wants to fix you up, but nobody bothers to figure out what your type is.”
Hmm. “Whatisyour type?”
He had to ask. He was hoping “billionaires with curly hair who love football” would be the answer. No, scratch that. He’d had his fill of women who were more interested in his bank account than him.
She reached into her purse and pulled out a wallet. Without a word, she withdrew a credit card and held it in the air above her. Just as he was starting to wonder if this was some sort of strange ritual, the server appeared to snatch it from her hand.
Jesse stared down at his own credit card, still in his right hand. When was the last time a woman had paid on a date? Maybe his college girlfriend. They’d gone Dutch a few times after dating for a while, but never on a first date.
“It’s a business expense,” she said, obviously noting his confused expression. “Anyway, you asked my type. I think I’m going against type. Type hasn’t worked out so well for me in the past.”
He frowned as he shoved his credit card back into his wallet. Against type. He wondered what type was for her.
