“I get it,” she replied with a conspiratorial wink. “Every organization has someone who doesn’t fit neatly into an HR category.”
“I’m a human resource nightmare. Not that we have an HR department. I mean, I don’t think we do. Unless you count Dottie, but she’s not someone who gives a shit about titles.”
“Ah, the intriguing Dottie. She sounds like a character. I enjoy a good character.” Her brows wagged. “Characters are life’s sprinkles.”
“Sprinkles? You mean the stuff you spoon over ice cream?”
“Yes,” she hooted happily. “Exactly! Think about it. A cookie or a donut is just meh until you add sprinkles.”
“Imma start calling Dottie sprinkles. She’ll probably smack me, but it’s too perfect to pass on.”
“So what does Dottie think you do?”
“You’re not gonna let it go, are you?”
“Arnie, come on. It’s a simple question.”
If only, he thought wryly.
“Okay, well, let’s see. Uh, did you ever watch Star Trek?”
“My dad was a 70s nut, remember?”
He chuckled. “Got it. Well, the follow-up series was called The Next Generation, and there was a ship’s counselor whose function was to, um, sense things. Simplified, some would use the term social scientist or communications expert.”
“Isn’t that sort of what a jury consultant does? Study the human portion of the process?”
His head jerked back, and he stared at her with dumbfounded surprise. My god, she was quick.
She hurriedly explained. “I sat on a criminal jury last year and found the whole process fascinating. Since the trial was a big deal, they researched each potential juror and did a psychological evaluation to predict how they might react to certain things. Is that sort of what you’re talking about?”
“Close enough,” he quickly allowed. There was no need to go further—not at the present.
“Is it dangerous? You said your company did security. Isn’t that, by nature, dangerous?”
“Life is dangerous,” he answered.
“Don’t be flip, Arnie. Answer the real question.”
His reflex grin earned him a playful jab in the ribs.
“I’m serious,” she snarled.
Her adorable frown only made his grin grow bigger.
“Sorry, sorry,” he pleaded with his hands up in surrender after she jabbed him a second time.
“I know what I’m doing, but sometimes, my special, um, skills,” he couldn’t help but snidely drawl, “require time.”
“Isn’t time yet another code word for undercover?”
“Definitions are tricky in my line of work. Undercover implies avoiding detection. My talents are”—he hesitated and reached deep for the right word—“more subtle. Gradual. I insinuate myself into situations.”
Amazingly, she didn’t keep digging. Somehow, someway, his explanation made sense to her, and she moved on.
“Is there a lot of call for what you do?”
Now there was a question he could answer honestly.
“Not at all. As a result, I have plenty of time to make shit, stir shit, cause shit, and do shit.” His grin was genuinely cocky, and he knew it. “I do the headhunting and vet all our recruits, but it’s not like an everyday thing. They let me drive the work van, and because I clean up nice, I’m the one pushed into public for the dog and pony shows and the occasional political schmooze fest.”
She giggled.
He shrugged and made a joke. “The pay is great, and I have a cool office. Oh, and we have a baseball team, so there’s always that.”
“Do you like New York?”
“Love-hate.”
“Ah.” She chuckled. “Understood. I’ve only been there once for a gymnastics event in my senior year. Dad volunteered to be a chaperone. I was horrified. What teenage girl wouldn’t be?” She rolled a shoulder, and her voice softened. “Looking back now, though, I’m so grateful we had the time together. He passed about eighteen months later.”
“Did you see the sights? Do the tourist thing?” He hoped so. God, for her sake, he really, really hoped so.
She snorted and wiggled on his lap. “Are you kidding? We did it all. Took the ferry to Ellis Island and did the historical tour. Then the Statue of Liberty. We ate Sabbatt’s hot dogs till we were ready to puke, explored Times Square, cried at the 9/11 Memorial. All the usual stuff. Lots of churches and the Empire State Building. It was exhausting. I medaled in floor exercise but fell during my uneven bar routine!”
“What was your favorite part?”
It said something about her character when she sighed and gave him a smiling wince. “Being with my dad. He was fun to hang out with and curious about everything. He’s the one who started the people-watching guessing game. It may seem dumb, but