His dark gaze was on me as I approached.
“A little extra cream and sugar,” he said, holding out a coffee toward me.
“This mug looks familiar,” I said as I took it.
“I stole it out of your cabinet. It didn’t look like you had enough room to fit one more up there, so I am reusing,” he told me. “How was work?”
“The usual. Are we about ready to head out?” I asked.
“Do you want to change?”
“No. Why?”
“To be more comfortable,” he said, looking down at my shoes.
“Comfort is overrated,” I shot back.
“Alright then. My ride is around the corner,” he said, reaching out to gently touch my hip to turn me.
I should have been annoyed.
I hated when men put their hands on a woman to move her out of his way or even to move past her.If you wouldn’t put your hand on a man’s lower back to move past them, don’t put it on mine.
But with Brock?
Oh, yeah, I was a lot more into that than I should have been.
It was just a quick touch, though, gone before I could even fully process it.
I couldn’t tell you what I expected a man like Brock to drive. For example, I could generally picture ex-military guys driving pick-ups for some reason. But also, in my mind, private investigators drove really nondescript black sedans.
What Brock drove, though, was an unexpected 4Runner in this unique pale greenish blueish color that I didn’t even have an example to compare it to. But it stood out. Definitely not something that suspicious people would miss parked on the street.
“Front, sweetheart,” Brock said when years of riding in the back of a town car made me go to the rear passenger door.
“Right,” I said, shaking my head at myself as he pulled the door open for me.
“Been a while, huh?” he asked.
“I honestly don’t remember the last time I rode in the front of a car,” I admitted. “Years, I guess.”
“Don’t you ever drive?”
“I never learned how,” I told him. “I was born and raised in the city. There was never any need for me to learn. And then when I decided having a vehicle was smarter than wasting time on public transit, it made more sense to go with a town car and a driver, so that I could get work done on my way to and from places.”
“Makes sense,” he agreed, pulling out of his spot. “For a workaholic, anyway,” he added. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring your laptop.
“The only reason I didn’t is because you were waiting for me outside,” I told him.
“Won’t it be nice not to be working for a couple of hours?”
“That is a good question that I don’t have an answer to yet. So what is Navesink Bank like? I haven’t been to a lot of places in New Jersey. Aside from Cape May.”
“It’s a big small town, if that makes any sense. Lot of people, and a lot of diversity in socioeconomics. There’s a rougher area, a big suburb, and a rich suburb. And I mean rich-rich. You rich,” he clarified. There’s the Navesink River along one part, and the beach is only maybe fifteen or twenty minutes away, depending on where you live in Navesink Bank.”
“Is it where you grew up?”
“Yes. And then I went away after the military.”