Wrong Question, Right Answer (The Bourbon Street Boys #3) - Elle Casey Page 0,48
My car is nice.”
“Yeah, but when we’re in your car, you’re always driving.”
I stop at the door leading out to the warehouse. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I narrow my eyes at him, trying to decide if he’s messing with me or insulting me for real.
His eyebrows go up. “Oh, nothing. Forget I said anything.” He slides past me, speeding up and practically running down the stairs.
I follow him, shaking my head. He doesn’t know me very well if he thinks I’ll chase him. He’ll pay for his comments later, though. I’m an excellent driver, and everybody here knows it. Maybe I’ll get behind the wheel of his vehicle and throw a few donuts in a parking lot somewhere so he can learn better than to mess with me. I smile, imagining the look on his face as the exterior of the car spins by our windows . . .
He’s standing at the passenger door looking at me expectantly when I get down to his car. I stop in front of the grille, confused. Does he want me to drive? After what he said, I find that doubtful. “What’re you doing?”
He opens up the door. “What’s it look like I’m doing?” He steps back, making room for me as he gestures to the interior.
I tilt my head at him. Is this a joke? “What’s your game?”
He shrugs. “No game. Just being a gentleman.”
I walk over, get into the car and buckle up. My ears are burning for some stupid reason. “Whatever floats your boat.” Maybe I should be flattered by his gesture, but I’m not; I’m uneasy. I like our relationship the way it was. I don’t want him changing anything. Why? Because first of all, everybody’s going to notice if he starts acting funny around me, and then May and Jenny are going to get all up in my business with questions and advice and everything else. And second of all, I like the way we work together. Everything is casual, easy. Why does he have to go and complicate things like this?
He gets into the driver’s seat, sliding in with a grace not many men possess. As he reverses out of the warehouse, he catches me looking at him and winks. “Anywhere special you want to go?”
I shift my gaze out the windshield. “Wherever. Pub is fine with me.”
“The pub it is.”
Lucky navigates the streets of the port and then those beyond. My mind races with different things we can talk about. Work? Television shows? Movies? Never before have I had to search for something to say to this guy, but now I’m second-guessing myself so much I can’t even say a single word. I hiss out a sigh of annoyance.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, turning to look at me for a moment.
“I hate how this is so awkward.” I also hate that I just said that out loud.
But of course Lucky takes it all in stride, smiling like he always does. “It’s not awkward. It’s just different. When was the last time you and I were alone in a car together?”
I have to think about that for a few seconds. “I don’t know. Other than that cab ride, it’s been a long time, I guess.”
“The cab ride doesn’t count. It’s been over a year. Remember last summer when we went to the state park for a company picnic?”
I smile at the memory. That was a great day. “Oh, yeah, I remember. Dev had just gotten that beast of a car and he asked us if we wanted to ride along with him, but none of us wanted to be stuck on the side of the road so we said no.”
“Yeah, and that thing stunk, too. Damn, it was like a musky animal had made a den in it, remember?” He laughs.
I laugh along with him, enjoying our easy banter. The awkwardness slides away and I hardly even notice. “God, it was like something died in there.”
“He had to hang all those Christmas tree air fresheners in there for weeks.” He shakes his head slowly at the memory. “I don’t think it still stinks, but some kind of miracle happened in there to get that smell out, I’ll tell you what.”
“You know how he finally got the stench out, right?” I can’t believe Lucky didn’t hear the story.
“No. Tell me.”
“Coffee beans. He poured ground-up coffee beans all over the floor and seats, and two weeks later vacuumed them up.”
“Really? I didn’t know coffee beans had that kind of power.”