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I was the first to step back, while he simply gazed down at me, all stern and uncompromising. I wondered if he were about to say something steamy and totally inappropriate. Maybe he would suggest going back inside for a quickie. God, I hoped so. I was ready to give him an answer too, and it would definitely be in the affirmative.
Instead, he leaned in and said, “Why do you have so many chains and locks on your door? Are you hiding out from the mob?”
“Huh? Oh no, I’m just very security conscious. You can’t be too careful, you know.”
He didn’t argue but shook his head like he thought I was more than a little crazy and took my arm to walk me to the curb. The wind whistled around the corner and made straight for me, slipping around my legs like a cat. The chill breezed right through my hoodie.
The huge, luxurious, black SUV was parked at the curb with the motor running, and another man behind the wheel. I hesitated, pulling back in surprise.
“It’s just my driver. It’s okay.”
Jared Spencer opened the door for me, and I slid onto the deliciously warm leather seat on the back passenger side and sighed at the luxury of the heated leather. He got in beside me and turned to look at me.
“Put on your seat belt. Or do you need me to put it on for you?”
“Huh? Uh, no, I got it.”
He sighed again. Something about me must have brought it out in him. The driver smoothly pulled out on the street, heading for the highway and looked inquiringly toward the back seat in the rear view mirror.
“Home, Richards.”
“Man, people really say things like that, huh? Just like on TV—rich people say that shit all the time. Well, not the ‘Richards’ part, but the ‘Home’ part. That’s cool.”
He just glanced over at me like he was looking for my off switch, as the driver drove off. The car was purring softly and the night had become surreal.
“I brought your gift,” he said. “You left it.”
“Oh, my Christmas present,” I said, glancing over at it. “Right. Thanks. I meant to bring it, but I get distracted kind of easy.”
“Hm.”
“Can I open it?”
“Suit yourself. It’s your gift.”
I started ripping into it, and soon lifted the lid on the good-sized box under the wrapping paper. I couldn’t imagine what it could be. Maybe some kind of cool electronics, or maybe they went the clothing route and bought me like a Christmas sweater. Lame, but if it was warm, I’d take it. Never look a gift horse in the mouth, my old man used to say, whatever that meant. Brushing aside the white tissue paper on top, I took a little excited breath and lifted out…a teddy bear.
A fucking teddy bear.
It was beautiful and looked expensive—fairly large, with long, black, silky-soft fur. It was plush and had big brown eyes and it was wearing a jaunty little red bowtie with a matching vest. And I would have been thrilled—if I’d been a fucking five-year-old.
“Oh, look at that,” I said and smiled as sincerely as I could, because I had manners and shit. My mother hadn’t been around long enough to teach me much, but she had taught me to act grateful when someone gave me a present. Even if it was something I had absolutely no use for.
He glanced over at me, a smile quirking up the corners of his mouth. “You don’t like it?”
“I didn’t say that. Exactly. Thank you so much for thinking of me.”
If possible, his grin got even wider. “Someone has taught you manners. Was it the man you used to live with?”
That surprised a laugh out of me. “Ha! Hardly. I haven’t been with him in over a year, and I believe he may have been raised by actual wolves. But to answer your question, yeah, of course, someone taught me manners. Just because I’m poor doesn’t mean I’m a Philistine.”
“Tell me more about that.”
“About what? Being poor or the Philistine thing?”
He gave me a long look that made my face burn. “About your training.”
“My what? I’m sorry. I’m not doing it on purpose. I’ve been told I’m annoying. But what do you mean? What kind of training?”
