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I peer up at his uncanny expression.
He’s got me there.
My hand stretches out for his. He pulls me up from the seat and closes the car door once I clear it.
Without a word spoken and still holding my hand, he walks us toward the house he had approached earlier.
Warmth pulses in our touch and other electrical sparks of something impermissible. Something I shouldn’t be feeling. Not for the enemy.
We reach the front door. Lix raps his knuckles on it. I try to jerk my hand away, but his grip tightens.
A woman with pale blue eyes and white hair opens the door.
“Good evening, Mrs. Thoman,” Lix says in a polished manner.
“Hello, Mr. Daxon.” The woman smiles with a twinkle in her eyes, clearly falling for his crap. “How are you?”
“I’m good.” Lix nods with a boyish grin. “This is my friend, Chosen.”
“Hello, Chosen.” The woman’s sparkling gaze shifts to me.
“Hi.” I smile at the kind lady, unsure of what’s going on.
With his free hand, Lix reaches for his backpack. “I wanted to return your book.”
The light turns up in Mrs. Thoman’s eyes. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes.” He hands the book to her. “Thank you for lending it to me.”
“It’s no problem.” She takes the book and looks down at it. “Gerald was an avid reader.” Her bashful clear eyes lift to us. “I liked my TV shows,” she says in a lowered voice, her cheeks turning pink. “He’s been gone now for five years. It’s so nice that someone is enjoying his books again. Did you want to check the library to see if there’s anything else you might want to read?”
“Perhaps another day,” Lix replies, owning his charming smile.
“Certainly, but as I said, you don’t need to keep bringing them back.”
“I have them all up here.” He taps the side of his head.
She laughs. “That’s what Gerald always said, but he still couldn’t part with them. I think you and Gerald would have gotten along. I’ll see you again soon.”
“Yes. Soon. Have a good night, Mrs. Thomas.”
“You kids, have a good night.” She smiles.
I wave just before she closes the door.
We head out toward the sidewalk. “I take it Mrs. Thomas is not a friend. She didn’t call you Lix.”
He laughs. “I fixed a few things around the house after her husband died.”
“I thought your company worked on larger jobs like businesses and stuff like that.”
“My company does, but sometimes, I take side jobs. Ya know”—his eyes slide over to me—“to help keep me out of trouble. Now, come on.” He tugs on our joined hands. “Walk me to my SUV.”
“Shouldn’t you be walking me to my car?”
“That’s the conventional thing to do, but no.” He stops at his SUV, opens the door, and tosses his backpack inside. “I want a head start. So you won’t be able to follow me when I leave.”
“Ah.” I chuckle. “You’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you?”
