Chapter 17
B lue hung up with Ridge feeling slightly queasy. What had he just done? Jane’s safety now rested solely in his hands, hands that were more accustomed to typing on a computer than punching someone or shooting a gun.
“So. It appears you may be stuck with me a while.”
“Oh,” Jane replied, setting down the paperweight.
“Try not to sound so thrilled,” Blue said.
“I was thinking of quitting, actually. Before you showed up, I was going to call Mr. Ridge and tell him to find someone else.”
“What? Why?” he exclaimed.
“Really, Blue, really ?” she asked.
“Because we shared a few lighthearted kisses?” he said.
“Yes, that’s exactly it. And then after those kisses you accused me of being a terrorist mastermind. It’s hard to know, really, if it was the kisses or the suspicion of being an artifact-forging mass murderer. I’m going to have to think about it, come to a conclusion, and get back to you.”
“In my defense, you’ve done nothing to help yourself prove you’re not a terrorist,” he said.
“You’ve done nothing to prove you’re not Jimmy Hoffa. Maybe you are. Because how do you expect someone to prove a negative?”
“There’s one easy way. Tell me why you have no digital footprint. Tell me why you’re invisible.”
“No,” she stubbornly insisted.
“Why not? What possible reason could you have for not telling me, and what possible reason could you have for being invisible in the first place?”
“How dare I have a private life that’s none of your concern?” she said. “I mean, we’ve known each other for almost two weeks now. You should definitely have the inside scoop on all my secrets.”
“You expect me to trust you, but you won’t give me anything to go on.”
She picked up the paperweight again, seemed to consider chucking it at his head and, with effort, set it back down. “You have issues.”
“I have issues? I’m not the one who stole a car and mysteriously flew home without a ticket or ID. I’m not the one who has no past, no history, no driver’s license, no credit rating, no health or dental records, no social media. I don’t have issues. You have issues.” He pointed at her so she’d be clear on who he was talking about.
She put her hands on her hips, which would have been cute if he weren’t so angry. She was pint-sized and adorable, way too much to ever be taken seriously as a credible threat. But she was trying her best with hands on hips and heaving, angry breathing. “None of those things are any of your business. No one normal looks into them upon meeting a new acquaintance.”
He rolled his eyes. “Absolutely everyone looks into them. Maybe not as deep or as far or as I do, but everyone does it. Want to know someone’s dating history? Check social media. Want to know someone’s political affiliation? Check social media. Are you honestly trying to tell me you’ve never cyber stalked someone?”
“Never, not once. You know what I want to do when I want to get to know someone? I ask them questions about themselves and listen to their answers,” she said.
“It’s like you’re speaking another language, one that died with the advent of the industrial age.” Blue said. “Who does that, I mean, really? No one, that’s who. Just because you work with antiquated artifacts doesn’t mean you have to be antiquated in real life.”
“You are being totally unfair, not just to me, but to all womankind. Do you think it’s moral to show up for a date knowing a woman’s credit rating and medical history? That’s a despicable invasion of privacy.”
“No, it’s called being smart. And if I don’t like what a woman’s credit rating or medical history has to say, I don’t show up for the date,” he said.
Her jaw dropped. “That’s horrible.”
He tapped his temple. “That’s smart; that’s safe. You can’t go by what someone says. People lie all the time. The only truth is what’s online where people are real and reveal themselves.”
“Really? Like how people are real on Instagram and Facebook? You know what Nick’s profile says? That he has a PhD, an interest in vintage cars, and holds material possessions loosely. You know what the reality is? That he’s been in school for ten years, works as a valet on the weekends, and sleeps on my couch. Don’t tell me people are real online. That’s what avatars are for, to keep people from being real.”
“Leave avatars out of it. They’ve done nothing to you,” he said.
“Are you trying to joke with me when we’re in the middle of an argument?”
“I can’t help it. You’re so stinking cute. It’s like trying to stay mad at a chipmunk,” he said.
“Strange, I’m having no trouble maintaining my anger at you,” she said.
“Come on, Jane, we might as well be friends. We’re stuck with each other for the foreseeable future,” he cajoled. She didn’t respond, but neither did she throw the paperweight she kept eyeing. Blue took a step closer. “Tell me why I can’t find you online.”
Jane took a step closer. “If I drank poison, and the only way to get the antidote was to tell you the reason I’m not online, I would gladly perish. I would rather have my wisdom teeth put back in and taken out again with no anesthetic than ever clear up this mystery for you.”
“I’m going to take that as a maybe,” Blue said.
“Here’s what I’ll give you: You can ask me anything else, anything that doesn’t pertain to my lack of online presence, and I’ll tell you. I’m an open book for people who seek answers.”
“What does your father do?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Do you still think I’m cute?” he tried.
“It’s waning,” she said.
“That’s weird because I think you’re definitely getting cuter,” he said.
“Now that you’re certain I’m not a terrorist, you mean?”
“Who says I’m certain? Maybe I like to live dangerously.” He rested his right hand on her shoulder, his thumb caressing her neck.
“I can’t do this with you.”
“Because I called you a terrorist? That was hours ago. Are you ever going to let it go and move on?” His left hand settled on her hip.
“When you unceremoniously broke into my apartment—by the way, guy who’s into modern technology, we have these things called doorbells now—I was in the middle of being proposed to.”
“By the hobo who sleeps on your couch? Do homeless men often ask you to marry them? Is that some type of payment plan you’ve worked out? He gets to live in your apartment on the condition that he makes an honest woman of you?”
“Nick and I dated off and on for ten years,” she said.
“Ten years and he’s only now trying to seal the deal? He is a catch. You’d better run back there right now and put the ring on before another decade goes by.”
“I don’t remember asking for your input on my love life.”
“Baby, for the last couple of weeks, I am your love life,” he reminded her, leaning in for a kiss she returned with interest, standing on her toes and gripping his shirt to tug him closer.
The kiss ended and he rested his forehead on hers. “Jane,” he whispered.
“Mm,” she said.
“How did you get back to DC?”
With a growl of frustration, she shoved him away. “No.”
“You don’t understand. I’ve spent my entire life on a computer, trying to solve riddles and puzzles, and I have never failed. And then you come along and you’re like some kind of walking Rubik’s cube.”
“I guess you have a decision to make. Do you want to get to know the real woman standing before you, or do you want to solve the mystery of my lack of virtual history?”
“I’m a hacker. Hacker Monthly named me one of the top ten hackers in the world.”
“Really?” she asked.
“No, but they probably would, if such a thing or magazine existed. The point is this is what I do, and I’m amazing at it. Asking me not to care about it is like asking a surgeon not to cut out a tumor.”
“Am I the tumor in this scenario?” she asked.
“You’re the everything in this scenario. Lately it’s like my life has reoriented itself and centered on you. I’ve gone from deep loathing to deep liking so quickly I have emotional whiplash. But I can’t take not knowing who or what you are.”
“Well, there you go,” Jane said.
“Just tell me,” he pled.
“No.”
“Well, there you go,” he said. They stared at each other, a sad, impenetrable distance between them. “Don’t marry the guy who took ten years to realize what a good thing he had going all along.”
Jane didn’t say what she was thinking, that he was asking her to hope instead for the guy who preferred a virtual woman to the real one standing in front of him.