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“Him?” I laugh. “I’ll pass it along but I don’t know if he’ll buy it or not. We aren’t that close. I just met him this semester. We have a group project coming up soon.” I realize as I say it why Brady winced. He was nervous about sounding too old with his twenty years of service. Now here I am talking about a group project like after that we’ll make sock puppets and then it will be nap time.
“Ah. So I wasn’t too far off the mark then.”
“That depends. What was the mark?”
He grins and it’s just perfect. Only one corner of his lips comes up and I finally get what they mean when they say it’s a “wry” smile. There’s something mischievous in his eyes, and at the same time, I love the little sparkle of it. I feel like we’re in on something together.
“I saw a young man I assumed you didn’t know running across the street toward you on your blind side while you were holding a reasonably large amount of cash. So, if you cut me at least some slack, we can say the ‘mark’ was that you weren’t expecting his approach.”
“Oh, you nailed that one then,” I laugh. “I wasn’t really expecting yours either, if we’re being honest.”
He looks down at his shoes, putting his hands in his pockets. “How about we just say that’s how good cops are supposed to operate?”
“Is it?” I can’t help but tease him a little bit. Last time I had been the one who had made the mistake, who’d had my nose rubbed in it by my aunt and Vicki, in fact. I felt like, in some weird little way, this put Brady and me on a slightly more even field. “Are you sure you aren’t thinking of spies? I thought part of a cop’s job was to prevent crime by providing an authoritative presence.”
He shrugs. “Well, here I am, and there aren’t any crimes happening I can see. I’d say it’s working.”
I roll my eyes, hoping he sees it as a charming move and not me being just some bratty kid. He’s full of surprises though, as he suddenly reintroduces himself.
“I’m Brady. We met the other day when the alarm was on the fritz here.”
It throws me a little. Telling me his name again, like I wouldn’t remember it…maybe that’s just him being humble? Or maybe he’s just underlining that he’s a cop and I’m a citizen and that’s how our interactions are supposed to go.
The other part of the statement though. “On the fritz” is about the nicest way one could put that. Any nicer and it would be a flat-out lie. Or perjury?
I realize I’m just standing here, thinking stupid things, although that at least means I’m not saying them, when he picks up the string of conversation again.
“Megan, right?”
I can feel my cheeks turn what must be cherry red by now and I just nod, wanting to say something funny, to feel the confidence I did a few minutes ago, but I realize I can’t read him at all. Not the Brady in real life, at least. Fantasy Brady, oh we get along quite well. Real Brady… I feel like I’m striking out when I didn’t even know I was going to be up to bat.
“Well,” he says. “I was mistaken in my assessment of your acquaintance there, but I assume I was correct in guessing that you’ve got some deposit money there.”
I nod again and sigh. “Yeah. Aunt Marla wants me to take it down and drop it off. Gotta learn the ropes, or however she said it. I think basically she just didn’t wanna do it herself and sent me instead.” I can’t believe how childish I sound. I’m whining away like—
“Like Cinderella,” he says, finishing my thought for me.
“That’s just what I was gonna say,” I laugh.
“I’m glad to hear that,” he smiles, “because as soon as I did say it I realized I was way off. It was her stepmother, wasn’t it? Not her aunt?”
“Potato-potato,” I grin back at him.
“Well, since we’ve already departed from the storyline, would you care for an escort to the bank? I think we’re heading in the same direction and it might make me feel a little better knowing you weren’t wandering about with all that on your own.”
“Why not?” I say, adjusting my purse strap on my shoulder and starting to head down the sidewalk. “You’re not planning on tackling anybody else are you?”
He shrugs. “If somebody needs tackling, I imagine I’d probably have a better chance at it than you.”
“Not what my aunt would say,” I mutter, though, to my chagrin, he hears me.
“Wicked stepmother,” he smiles, falling into stride beside me.
And just like that, I realize my imagination wasn’t even close to how exciting this man is in real life.
5
Brady
