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“I said ride with me.” I flash her a cocky smile, very much aware of the fact that my answer was no Freudian slip.
“I think you’re twisting things around.”
“I think you’re hearing what you want here, sweetie. Now that you know that I’m single and I’m not gay, I’m sure all sorts of very dirty things are going through that pretty little head of yours. Things I’m sure could turn my cheeks rosy.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “I highly doubt anything can make you blush.”
“You’re right. There’s nothing shy about me. Come on. I’m taking you home,” I command.
“Well...”
“You hesitate as if I were a serial killer.”
“One can never be too careful.” She lifts her chin defiantly.
“I agree, but do you make it a habit to spend this much time with a guy you suspect of being a murderer?” I shake my head with a smile hanging from my lips.
“Okay. You win. I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want to put you out.”
“Not at all.” I wink.
There’s a whole lot more I’d like to offer, but let’s just keep it to a ride for now.
I help her with her bags and we walk the short distance to my SUV. I make one more trip to recover her bike that’s locked on the bicycle parking rack and we’re set to go. Once we have everything safely inside the vehicle, I turn to her. “Where to, dear Miranda?”
“I’m staying at Marguerita Avenue and 10th Street.”
I’m shocked by her response. “I’m renting a place at Marguerita Avenue and 7th Street. You must’ve gotten paid really well at the coffee shop to afford to live in that neighborhood. Clearly, I’m in the wrong profession,” I tease.
“Oh, no. I wish. That was my third job.”
“You had three jobs?” I ask, amazed.
“Yeah. Remember earlier I told you that I had resigned from my waitressing job?”
“I do.”
“I used to also work as a waitress for a private caterer. I was on call, but I’d work two or three nights a week and I was booked most Saturdays and at least one Sunday per month. Sometimes, I’d finish a shift at Lola’s Paradise and rush to my catering job. It was brutal. Today’s the first day since I moved to LA that I’m not working. I’m really excited because I start a great new job on Monday that pays way better than both of my waitressing jobs combined and it’s far more rewarding.”
Wow.“Okay, that’s two jobs, what’s the third?”
“I kept my job as a house-sitter because paying rent in LA is insane when you’re single and you prefer to live on your own instead of sharing a place with weirdoes. Been there, done that and I’m not going back.”
She doesn’t have a boyfriend? I love the sound of that.
“That’s a lot to juggle for someone who seems so young.”
“I’m already twenty-two,” she announces proudly, “and I’ve had to deal with more shit than people twice my age will ever have to deal with in a lifetime.”
“You absolutely come across as someone who can take care of themselves.” She beams at my answer. “So, what’s the new job you’ll be starting?”
“Uh...” she starts. “I know this might sound silly, but I’m a bit superstitious that way. I tend not to talk all that much about a new job until I’ve passed the first day. I guess it’s my way of not jinxing it. This is such a huge opportunity for me and for some strange reason I’m expecting I’ll get there on Monday to find out it was just a dream.”
“I get it. And for the record, I’m sure you’re worried for nothing. I bet you’ll do great on your first day. We don’t have to talk about it if you’re not comfortable.” I shrug.
“Thanks for understanding.”
“It’s funny how we were strangers yesterday morning and now it seems like we’re neighbors,” I point out, changing the subject.
