Chapter Fourteen #2
Then why, when he sat there listening and agreeing with so much that she said, did he want to prove her wrong?
Luna wouldn’t have to draw him a map. He’d make damn sure he found her spot and others she didn’t know she had.
Nate closed his eyes and gripped the wheel.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” He turned over the engine and shoved the car in reverse with quick, stiff movements. “I need a God damn twelve-step program to stop fantasizing about the women I work with.”
The entire surface of the dining room table was filled with every car option in her price range.
Luna had looked up what cars were most likely to get stolen, and which ones were off the car thieves’ radar.
Several of the top non-stolen cars were things she would never drive. Not on purpose. Gas guzzling sedans. Cars made by manufacturers that hadn’t changed the frame in nearly a decade. Then there were the stupid expensive models that were eliminated by price alone.
She decided on an SUV. Not the huge ones that would house a family of six, but something compact. She didn’t need to off road the thing, but getting around the Pacific Northwest in the winter sometimes required driving in the snow.
A chime on the alarm system alerted her to a car coming up the drive. Luna didn’t bother looking to see who it was since Miley normally came home at this hour.
Lights from a car bled through the windows and within minutes Miley was walking in the mudroom door.
The sound of rain followed her in.
“Hey,” Luna greeted her while she repositioned the images of the cars in order of hybrid efficiency.
“What a shit day,” Miley replied.
“That bad?”
Luna peeked over her shoulder to see Miley hanging up her raincoat.
“You’d think that the drivers in this state would be better at driving in the rain, but no. One trauma after another . . . all damn day.”
Luna looked at the photos and decided crash safety trumps miles per gallon.
“Is this a wine night?” Luna asked.
“You know it.”
When Miley didn’t walk into the kitchen, Luna glanced at her again.
Miley was stripping her scrubs off and was down to her bra and panties.
“Ohhh, that bad?” Luna had seen her friend do this on several occasions. When too much of the ER came home with her, she did her best to leave it at the door.
“Arterial bleeds are projectile. Even with an extra layer of PPE, it still found its way in.”
Luna had known Miley long enough to understand most of the lingo. Personal protective equipment was more than a mask. There was eye protection, covers for your shoes, and surgical gowns that covered your clothing.
Miley shivered as she walked into the kitchen holding her bundle of clothes. She stopped at the table. “What’s this?”
“I’m deciding on my new car.”
Miley laughed. “Most people just go drive them.”
“There’s no point in test driving something that doesn’t fit in all my boxes.”
“Huh . . .”
Luna looked down at her half-naked friend. “Go shower and come back and help me decide.”
Miley scurried away as Midnight waltzed in. “Where have you been hiding?”
The cat yawned, as if she’d just woken up, and jumped on a chair.
Luna reached over and gave her a little love and then began moving the photos around for the umpteenth time.
By the time Miley returned from her shower, Luna had a glass of wine poured for her.
“Bless you.”
Luna lifted her glass, and they sipped together.
They’d long since made a rule that they didn’t drink alone. Luna was cognizant of the slippery slope of that habit, and Miley knew the statistics of substance abuse among health care workers.
“There are leftovers,” Luna told her.
“I’m not hungry.”
That wasn’t a good sign. “Do you want to talk about it?” Luna asked.
Miley shook her head. “Some days hit home more than others.”
Luna didn’t press. Miley would open up when she was ready. If she opened up at all.
“Tell me about the cars.”
Neutral subject, nothing life ending.
“SUVs, mostly hybrids. I thought about a complete EV, but I’m worried that if I got stuck in the snow somewhere it would run out of battery and I’d freeze to death.”
“That’s very specific. When was the last time you got stuck in the snow?”
“It could happen.”
Miley laughed.
“All of these cars are on the list of least likely to get stolen. All of them have superior theft protection and tracking. And the thieves know it.”
Miley picked up a picture. “A Buick?” She wrinkled her nose. “Really?”
“It’s on the list.”
“It’s ugly.”
“It’s safe.”
Miley wadded up the piece of paper and tossed it over her shoulder.
“Hey!”
“I’m not letting you buy something my own grandmother wouldn’t drive.”
As pushy as that sounded, Luna felt her heart swell. This was how a single woman got past the single tax.
There were still eight cars to pick from.
“What is this?” Miley pointed to the number Luna put on the bottom right of the page.
“Miles per gallon.”
“You work from home.”
“Gas is still expensive,” Luna said.
Miley pointed to another number.
“Crash rating.”
“Base price?” Miley asked, pointing to the biggest number.
“Yeah.”
“With what features?”
“Keyless entry, antitheft, built-in emergency calling.”
“Heated seats?” Miley asked.
“And steering wheel. I mean, why not?” It was strange justifying such a luxury. But if she was likely going with a hybrid and on the off chance she was stuck in the snow, she might as well have heated and cooled seats.
“What is this?”
“Customer satisfaction star rating, and below that is customer service at the dealership rating.” Luna kept going.
“This is the average cost of oil change and service. Tire replacement. This is the approximate cost to insure. It goes up if I hit a luxury package, but not by much. Greg said that since I’m looking at the least likely to be stolen cars, the insurance company gives you a break.
Oh . . .” Luna turned to Miley. “And guess what?”
Miley sipped her wine.
“The alarm in the house . . . that will bring my home insurance rate down. Or at least keep it from going up too much after this claim.”
“That’s great. Did you tell Ash?”
Luna nodded. “Yeah, I texted him earlier. He told me to keep the fact that there is a gun in the house to ourselves. Insurance companies only think of guns as a liability.”
“There are plenty of accidental shootings.”
“I guess. It feels dishonest,” Luna admitted.
Miley looked at her as if she were crazy. “And do you stop by the police department and confess every time you speed so they can fine you?”
Luna paused. “Good point.”
“Are you going to test drive all of these?”
“If I have to.”
Miley set her wine down and picked up the last three photos of the cars. “Of these three, which one would you least likely want?”
Luna’s choice was instant. “This one has the worst crash score.”
Miley put the paper aside and picked up another one. “Eliminate one of these.”
Luna pointed.
Again, Miley offered three cars. One by one Luna’s choices narrowed until there were only three left.
“Start here. But leave your favorite choice for last.”
“Why last?”
“Because you don’t want to have gone through all this work to only test drive one car. If you start with the one you think you’ll love and you do and you buy it, you miss out on this one.” She picked up a random photo. “And this one might blow your favorite out of the water.”
“What if I don’t like any of these?”
“Then you have all these, starting with the top, to consider. My money is on you buying one of these.” Miley pointed at the last remaining cars. “Now . . . the most important question.”
Luna looked up.
“The color.”
It had been four days since Nate overheard Luna’s conversation, and two weeks since he saw her face to face.
They met in the same coffee shop, at the same table.
Nate arrived early, set up his computer, and waited.
Every day that week, when his thoughts moved to Luna, he recalled the things she’d said to her sister.
When he pushed back the painful parts, he was left with words like thirst trap and music pumping.
And when the word pumping ran like a ticker tape at the bottom of the breaking news feed, he envisioned a road map of a woman’s body—Luna’s body—with an X marking the right spot.
When Luna passed through the door Nate knew he was seeing her through a different lens.
The first time he’d seen her, she was scowling at him. The day he earned the name Mr. Venti. Then she smirked through the first meeting with Marcus. The corners of her small mouth up ever so slightly, her stare piercing and at the same time challenging. A look he’d seen several times since.
She had soft brown hair, thick with a small amount of curl.
Not the kind that came from a styling tool, a fact he knew since he’d seen her hair wet from rain more than he’d seen it dry.
She didn’t wear a lot of makeup, and her lips were always a rosy shade of pink.
She wore heels when she wanted to make an impression, rain boots when she was running errands, and canvas tennis shoes for everything else.
Why her shoes stuck out, Nate had no idea.
He was a full head taller than her, but she wasn’t unusually short.
And curves.
Nate liked curves.
All those attributes walked toward him now.
Her shoes clicked as they met the floor with each step.
Nate forced himself to stop staring, and damn near sat on his hands to not offer to help her with her coat.
Colleagues didn’t help each other out with their coats.
They didn’t spend the night in the other’s house the first week they met either, but he ignored that fact now.
“You’re early,” she said instead of hello.
“So are you. Hello.”
Luna put her jacket on the back of a spare chair at their table. “Hi. Twenty-ounce dark roast?” she asked, pointing to the barista.
“I can get it.”
“No, no. It’s my turn.”
“If a man pays for a meal . . . It’s a transaction.” Her words floated in his head.
“Dark roast is fine.”
She smiled and turned away.
She was wearing a pantsuit. Her hair was pulled back, exposing her neck.
Stop! he scolded himself. Her neck. I’m thinking about her neck!
Nate shook out of his obsession with what she was wearing, and how she appeared, and focused on the progress report they were delivering to Marcus.
Luna returned to the table and set her purse to the side. “They’ll bring our coffee over,” she reported.
He smelled lavender.
Luna smelled of lavender.
If Nate could kick himself without being obvious, he would.
“Do you have a meeting today?” he asked.
She looked surprised. “Yes. A pro bono divorce case. How did you know?”
“The shoes give you away.”
Luna glanced at the floor, turned an ankle to the side, and shrugged. “That’s fair.”
“Why pro bono?”
“To keep my finger on the pulse of the regular guy. Most of the people I work with have so much money they haven’t gone to the grocery store for themselves since college. Pro bono keeps me grounded.”
“That’s . . . nice.”
She furrowed her brow. “You sound surprised.”
“No . . . yeah. I never considered pro bono work.”
“Not too many people do. Most just donate to a charity instead of offering free labor,” Luna said.
“You can write off charity donations against your taxes. Working for free . . . not so much,” he said.
“Which is exactly why the rich write a check. Chances are they don’t even do that; their secretaries do.”
Nate stared. “I’ll have to consider that once my PI business is established.”
“Say the word. Harper will have a case on your desk within twenty-four hours. Until then, let’s focus on what we’re paid to do.” Luna reached into her bag and removed her computer.
Mom would like you.
Nate shook his head and cleared his throat.
He needed to shut this down.
Fast.
Long after the coffee was consumed, and the lavender scent of Luna’s skin had faded away, Nate sat back in his chair and rested his chin on his hand.
As if they were mirror images, Luna did the same.
“We need to go to Texas,” he concluded.
She stared beyond him, lost in her own thoughts. “I need to see the original files. I need direct access. This isn’t adding up. It’s too easy to doctor what they send in a Dropbox.”
“I need to interview the main players. That should help us narrow down what files you should spend your time on,” Nate said.
Luna leaned in and brought up her calendar. “This week is out. I have a divorce trial that’s been postponed twice that I can’t get out of.”
“What about flying in a week from Sunday?”
Luna shook her head. “Miley’s gone over the weekend on a ski trip, then works Monday and Tuesday. My roofer seems to think the weather will break enough for him to get in and out. Someone needs to be at the house during construction.”
Nate waved his hand. “I wouldn’t be comfortable leaving either.”
“Best I can do is leave on Wednesday. I’d say Tuesday night but there is no guarantee Miley will be home on time. The hospital is notoriously short-staffed and sometimes she’s stuck.”
“I’ll look for early flights on Wednesday, back late Friday or Saturday morning. Unless you think you’ll need more time.”
“I won’t know until I get my hands on the files.”
“Refundable tickets it is.”
Luna closed her laptop. “I’ll send you my information to book. Direct flight, please. I’ll book the hotel.”
Nate smiled and shut down his computer as well. “Direct flights are the only way to go. Will Marcus have any issues covering this?”
“Nope. We’ll get confirmation during Monday’s meeting. This won’t be the first time I’ve had to go to the files when the doctored ones were the ones that came to me.”
“I find it best that we come in without warning,” Nate said.
“I agree.”
Luna glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to go.”
“Go. I’ll take care of the flight. If you get delayed let me know and I’ll take care of the hotel as well.” He stood.
Luna tucked her computer away and pushed her chair back. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
Nate could do one better. “I’m glad we’re on the same team.”
She paused and smiled at him.
“I’ll pick you up. Drive us to the airport.”
“That’s not—”
“Aren’t you buying a new car this week?” Nate asked.
“That’s the plan.”
“Do you really want to park it at the airport?”
Luna literally shivered. “Point taken.”
“I’ll call Kempski, tell him we have to leave a car there.”
“You think that’s going to make a difference?” she asked.
“If I was running security, it would.”
Luna pushed one arm into her trench coat and fished for the other arm with her free hand.
Nate reached over without a thought and held her coat open for her to put it on.
Once it was, she cleared her throat. “Thanks.”
He dropped his hand. He hadn’t meant to do that.
They walked out together; the mist that never seemed to lift this time of year hovered around them.
Nate saw her rental car parked on the opposite side of the street.
“I’ll see you on Monday, then.”
She wanted to say something, Nate saw it on her face.
When she didn’t say more, he replied, “Monday.”
For the second time in a week, Nate sat behind the wheel of his car kicking himself.