Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Davin slid in, put some expensive-looking sunglasses on, and secured his seatbelt. He glanced over at her.
“Your seatbelt,” he murmured.
“Oh. ‘I am a cotton-headed ninny-muggins,’” she said, quoting Elf.
He grinned. “I pray that’ll clear soon. You’re brilliant, Chloe.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. It would be high praise from anyone, but especially from a brilliant author like Davin.
She reached for her seatbelt and tugged it over her chest and lap, struggling to push it into the latch. How awkward. She was really a mess right now, and he was mostly to blame.
“Allow me.” Davin’s warm hand brushed hers. He took the seatbelt from her and secured it.
“Thank you,” she managed, out of breath and overwhelmed by his presence and the soft scent of his cologne. How did he still smell good when she was a mess in scrubs with no makeup or good scent lingering on her? Then she realized it was his vehicle that smelled like him. Delicious.
He nodded to her and they drove away from the hospital and toward the docks. It hit her how truly alone they were.
Alone. With Davin. She was alone with him most days at the shop, but they both had purpose and moved in their own spheres, only chatting on his breaks. Here in this car, they were really alone. It felt intimate, thrilling, and admittedly intimidating.
“This car sounds like an alien shuttle,” she teased, trying to alleviate the tension that had sprung up inside her from a simple brush of his hand. Was he feeling the same or was she making it awkward for him? “Are you spiriting me away to your alien home planet, Mr. Ambrose? ‘Beam me up, Scotty’.”
Davin chuckled and glanced over at her. If only she could see his gray-blue eyes behind the sunglasses. “You’re giving me ideas for a new book.”
“I’m here to help.” She ran her hand along the smooth leather handle. “What is this fancy-shmancy vehicle?”
“An Audi R8.”
“Hmm. It’s beautiful.”
He smiled. “It works.”
“Ha! Stop downplaying. Even I know Audis are crazy expensive.”
His eyebrows lifted and he focused on the road, his grip tightening on the wheel. Late morning traffic was light, but he appeared as if they were in rush hour.
“Is the Audi R8 electric?”
“A hybrid.”
“Why do you need a fancy sport utility vehicle?” she asked. Maybe she should leave it alone, but she didn’t know what else to say right now. ‘Who do you think knocked me out?’ and ‘Are you going to stay with me and hold my hand?’ didn’t seem like the appropriate questions for the moment.
“I like to hike, bike, and explore,” he said, his grip loosening on the steering wheel and making her think her question had been the correct one.
“Already knew that.” She smiled, feeling much more like herself, though she was desperate for a shower, makeup, her own clothes, and a breakfast that didn’t taste like mushy cardboard.
“You know a lot about me.” He gifted her with another smile and she felt faint even though she was sitting down.
In a Henley and slacks, he wore those sunglasses and this beautiful car well.
Sometimes he was endearingly awkward as an author should be, but in contradiction he was athletic and poised and, in her mind, he could be a male model.
“I like to think so.” Chloe looked out the window at a large Catholic church. “Any other reasons for the SUV?”
“I’m peripatetic.”
“What in the world does that mean?”
“I’m a wanderer.” He grinned. “I like to be able to fit everything in my car.”
She focused back on him. “Do you have a permanent location and house somewhere?”
“No. My parents are in Colorado Springs, so they store a few things there for me. I suppose you could reference that as ‘home’.” He gripped the steering wheel loosely, relaxed and enticing.
“I guess I don’t know as much about you as I think I do.”
He laughed. “Hmm. You know more than you think. We talk often.”
“About inconsequential matters, apparently.” She shook her head and put a hand dramatically to her forehead. “I blame myself. What kind of conversationalist am I?”
Stopping at a red light, he angled his upper body toward her. “Just because you didn’t know I was from Colorado Springs doesn’t mean you don’t know me well.”
“Prove it.” She grinned, loving their banter as usual.
“You know that my dad’s a pastor and my mom teaches kindergarten.”
“True.”
“You know my sister lives near them with her husband and three children and stays at home. Her husband’s an engineer.”
“Okay. You got me. I know you so well.”
“You know that I have a master’s in human relations from NYU.”
“That’s why I thought you were from New York.” She snapped her fingers and then pointed at him. “I blame you.”
He laughed. “I’ll take all the blame.” The light changed. He rolled through it and said, “I’ve told you things about characters, my deep-dive research, and my writing that nobody knows.”
She felt warm all over. Was he being serious?
Surely he told his friends, his family, or Robinette those things.
As she thought about it, though, he hadn’t told her much about friends.
Some writing friends and his editors, but surely he had real life friends too.
He’d probably told Robinette about them. Darkness filled her at the thought.
“I like that, Mr. Ambrose.” She focused on the positive. Robinette wasn’t here. Yet. “What if I exploit the inner workings of the famous author to the world?”
“You wouldn’t.”
“You’ll never know. Until your fans start sending you suspicious emails and I’m an instant millionaire.” She made her voice sing-song.
“Nobody cares that much about me.”
“I protest,” she cried out. “You had adoring fans driving from Portland and San Francisco when I hosted that book signing for you.”
He shook his head, looking to be hiding a grin. “’I’m kind of a big deal’.”
He quoted Anchorman and she couldn’t help but laugh.
“I also know some things about you,” he said quickly.
“Such as?” This delightful conversation was making her forget all about an unknown attacker and her lack of makeup and clothes.
“You went to Cal State Fullerton and got your degree in English literature. Your parents bemoaned your future job opportunities. Until you secured a loan with the local bank and started your highly successful bookstore. Now they’re so ‘proud they’re annoying’.”
“I don’t know about ‘highly successful’, but the rest rings true, especially the annoying parents. Well, you met them.” She smiled and gestured. “Go on. I like hearing about myself.” She winked to show she was teasing, but she did love this interaction with him.
“Your parents live on the island. Third generation islanders.” He winked. “Your dad owns the hardware store and your mom’s a librarian—that’s where you got your love of books—and your sister’s a nurse in L.A.”
He gave her a smug smile and exited the street, entering the lineup for a drive-up smoothie shop.
“Apparently you know everything about me.” She played with the bottom of her scrub top.
“I wouldn’t mind knowing more.” He slid his glasses off, and the sincerity in his eyes made them more blue than gray.
Chloe shivered with the delight that statement created and the warmth in his gaze. He wanted to know more. About her. Could she shove Robinette out of the way?
“Acai bowl?” he asked. “We can eat on the ferry, and you can share more about yourself with me.”
It was after nine and a second breakfast sounded perfect. The ferry left at ten so they had time. During the off season the ferry only came and went once in the morning and once in the afternoon. In the summer there were more trips per day.
“You do know how to spoil and flatter a girl.” She batted her eyelashes. Her mom would’ve been proud of her flirting.
“I try.” He grinned and pulled up to the drive-through window.
They were at the marina ten minutes later and waiting in the queue for the ferry.
After they drove his Audi into a space, thankfully on the main level and not down in the basement—she did not prefer climbing out of that dark lower level—he escorted her out of the car and to one of the seats up top.
It was sunny out but too chilly to sit outside in only scrubs.
They found an inside table, and she was enjoying the strawberry, banana, peanut butter, and granola mix in her acai bowl and thinking of all kinds of conversation starters, not necessarily sharing more about her but him, when Davin’s phone rang.
She startled, praying it wasn’t Robinette.
He slid it on, not on speaker, she noticed. “Hello?” He listened and his jaw tightened. “Yes … yes … I understand. We’ll drive straight to you as soon as the ferry lands. Thank you.”
He hung up and pocketed his phone, taking a bite of his berries, Nutella, nuts, and acai.
“Um … where are you driving me as soon as the ferry docks? If you’re turning me over to the bad guys, I’m going to have to protest.”
She should be asking if they were going to stay together. They could go to her small house a few blocks off of Main or to his rental, she imagined out in the berry patches and the new builds. He’d said it was a couple miles north of town.
He smiled, but it quickly disappeared as he shook his head. “Not the bad guys. Sheriff Bradley, Jaxon,” he corrected, “has some information for us, and questions he needs to ask of me.”
“You? Not me?”
He nodded and looked away. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he clutched his spoon, staring out at the ocean.
“Everything all right?” she asked.
“I guess we’ll see. He didn’t share anything, but he said to bring you with me.”
“Try to get rid of me.” She took a bite of her second, and much tastier, breakfast. “Maybe he has some answers about who could’ve shot Versed into my previously drug-free body.”
Instead of smiling or teasing, he only nodded. “Maybe.”
“Guess I won’t be getting out of these scrubs anytime soon.”
His gaze swept over her. “I like the scrubs.”