Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Kenny
T he woman smiled at me, a sultry, coy thing.
She was pretty, for sure. But I was working, and I had no time for flirting, even if it was a favorite pastime. Right now, I had to figure out which of two items to choose for Liz’s snack, and failure was not an option.
“Where are you headed?” She took a step closer and flipped her curly blond hair over one shoulder.
“California. You?” Ignoring her would be outright rude and that wasn’t me, but I made a point not to look at her or seem engaged in the conversation.
“Fun. We’re heading to Vegas, baby!”
Two women by the beverage fridges joined her in a screechy, “Woooo!” and they all threw their hands up.
I chuckled and grabbed the right snack—I felt it in my gut, this one was for Liz.
“Sounds fun. You ladies have a great time and be safe.” I gave them a smile and nodded at the blond one next to me, who was already turning with a “whatever” look on her face.
After paying, I wandered out to the car, surprised to find Liz already settled into the passenger seat. I jogged over and slipped into the driver’s side.
“Sorry. Guess I was taking my sweet time.”
She shrugged. “Had to let the ladies down easy.” She shot me a look.
I rolled my eyes. “Hey, I can’t help if I was the only guy under fifty available to flirt with, can I?”
She chuckled and shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt that you look like that.” Her hand waved up and down.
My mouth dropped open, and I made no attempt to hide the blazing smile on my face. “Why, Elizabeth Malcom, did you just call me hot?”
She sighed. “Goodness. You are a lot.”
“Oh, I am. But I’ll grow on you, I promise.” I tossed out the retort in my usual breezy tone, but something pinched in my chest.
I had always been a lot. I didn’t know how not to be.
She laughed, low and a little breathy. A blessed distraction.
“I have no doubt that’s true.”
I let myself enjoy her response as I navigated back onto the interstate and turned on some music, but set the volume low. “Okay, I’m ready.”
She tilted her head to look at me.
“For our game.”
“Ah.” She rustled in the bag and pulled out two things. “First, I present to you cheddar and sour cream ruffles.”
“Excellent choice. The premium chip flavor.”
“Completely incorrect, and yet I somehow knew you’ d say that. And second, I have a Kit-Kat.” She waggled it between her fingers.
“Ooh, so close, but my favorite candy bar is a Caramelo.”
She laughed. “Oh, my sincerest apologies.”
I shot her a grin. “I accept and forgive you. After all, we’re just starting out here. It would be different if we’d been close friends and you still got that wrong.” I raised a brow.
“You’re telling me that Beast and Cookie and Doc all know what you like?” She set the snacks back into the bag.
“Actually, yes. But only because we’ve been deployed and bored and in circumstances like that you talk about all kinds of useless stuff.” Those details weren’t what defined a friendship, but sometimes, it was the little tidbits that piled up between the bigger moments that made you feel close to a person.
“Yeah, I get that.”
She did? I wanted more. Did she have people like that she worked with? Did Kappa Sector types even get to work with others, or were they little life rafts in a bigger sea of the intelligence community? I didn’t really know, despite the many interactions I’d had with agency folk.
She was close-lipped about work, obviously. Just like I didn’t want to rehash my glamorous upbringing, she didn’t seem to want to discuss why she was taking a months-long break from her fancy, secretive career or, evidently, anything about it.
So, Plan B.
“Okay, so now me, and then we play our second game.” I grabbed the bag with her snacks inside and plopped it in her lap. “Open ’er up.”
She reached in and pulled out a can of Pringles and a bag of Nerd clusters. She stared at them for a minute, then slowly turned to me. “Okay, how.”
I shrugged. “It’s a gift.”
“No. Really. How did you do that?”
I grinned over at her for a second, noting the disgruntled gaze, then forced my eyes back to the road. “Honestly, it’s a gift. I think about what I know about the person and try to find something that matches their personality.”
She scoffed, but it sounded a little like a laugh. “So my personality is like Pringles?”
“Well, a bit. You’re salty.” I glanced over again and she had a brow raised. “But once you try one, you can’t stop. And the same with you, once you get a little, uh… well, taste, for lack of a better term, you can’t, uh, stop.”
A small flush rose to my cheeks because all the salty and tasty insinuations about consuming felt a little sensual in a way I hadn’t planned. “My point is, it’s not a bad thing.”
“And these?” She held up the bright pink bag showing gummies coated in crunchy purple and pink Nerds.
“Well, those are complex—crunchy and a little sour on the outside, but sweet and, uh, a little squishy on the inside.”
I narrowed my eyes like it would help me keep a straight face, but miraculously, she burst out laughing before I did.
“Oh, thank goodness, I was about to lose it,” I said, laughing along with her. “I’m sorry. It got weird.”
She nodded, wiping her eyes at the corners. “It really did.”
We both settled down after a few more seconds, and then I could feel her small smile, even though I didn’t let myself look.
“I am impressed, though. They’re two of my favorites. ”
“What would you have picked for yourself?” I had to know.
“If I ever have the choice for Mexican food of any kind, that’s it. All the more after living in Europe and being absolutely bereft of options.”
The genuine distress in her voice as she discussed this had me completely charmed. “Guacamole is hard to come by there.”
“You have no idea.”
Dang, I liked her. She was just so… so herself. She came off as so closed and controlled, but it wasn’t like she didn’t laugh or have quirks. It was a silly thought, but I liked seeing this side of her. And I wanted to see how much more I could learn before we landed in LA and the main part of our mission began.
“Now time for our game.”
“Another one?”
“Obviously. While I’m the driver, we will play.”
She chuckled. “While you’re the driver?”
“Yes. Driver makes the rules. Copilot humors him. On a road trip, this is the way.”
I wished I could look over and see what her expression said, but the whole me being the driver thing meant I should do my best to keep my eyes on the road.
She hummed. “I accept your terms. How do we play?
Adjusting my grip on the wheel, I did my best impression of a man who was not overly excited to be playing a game with a girl he used to like.
Used to like was the key here. Because now? Now we were friends.
Sure, she was beautiful in a way that stuck to my ribs and smart and capable and covertly funny and she was warming up to me faster than I’d hoped, but friends .
Obviously only friends.
“Nothing fancy. It’s twenty questions. Small stuff only.”
“I can do that.”
And we did. I learned her favorite fast food and that she had a little bear she slept with as a kid. She got me talking about a tree house a neighbor kid down the street had, and how I’d always dreamed of having one, but we didn’t have trees anywhere around our trailer. We covered favorite foods and movies and music and books, favorite parts of our job, favorite celebrities.
We stayed away from everything else—all the things that might make one of us shut down. It should’ve been pleasantly surface level. Should’ve kept us right in the sweet spot of a superficial get-to-know you that gave us additional comfort working together, but not much more.
Ah, the shoulds. They got me very time.