“Not exactly, but my family is well off.” He tapped the steering wheel a couple times, and then turned to face me. “Want me to put the top down?”
The chilly March air made me hesitate only a second. “Will you please?”
“Sure. You got a jacket?”
I nodded and tugged it out of the backpack at my feet. He beamed me another smile before flicking a switch on the dashboard. The top slowly receded, and I put on my coat and buckled my seat belt. Dominico turned the heater on our feet.
“What kind of music are you into?” he asked, fiddling with the radio.
“I’m good with whatever,” I said, waving him off.
He cocked his head and looked at me. “But what do you like?”
For someone just trying to give me a ride, he sure asked a lot of questions. I couldn’t help but be flattered by his interest. I’d always been a private person, though, so it felt weird to talk about myself.
“I promise not to use the information against you,” he prodded.
“Oldies,” I confessed.
“Oldies?” he asked. “What era are we talking here?”
“All of them, but mostly sixties.”
“That’s… unusual. I don’t think I’ve ever met a girl under fifty who likes oldies. Is there a story behind it?”
I shrugged, not yet ready to reveal all my secrets. “Papa says I have an old soul.”
He took his hand off the radio dial to shift into reverse. “Well, you’re gonna have to help me out here, because I have no idea which radio stations play oldies.”
“We don’t have to listen to my music. You’re already giving me a ride and I’m pretty sure that’s above and beyond security guard duties. I’m good with modern stuff too.”
“No way, now you’ve got me interested. I want to hear the kind of music a girl like you listens to.” He backed out of the parking spot and drove toward the exit. “Change the station and tell me where I’m headed.”
A girl like me?
I chewed on that while rattling off directions to my house and messing with the radio. It landed on Gladys Knight and the Pips’ song “Midnight Train to Georgia,” the very song my parents had been listening to when Mamma realized she loved Papa. I knew, because she must have told me the story a hundred times.
Hearing the song now, with Dominico, caused goosebumps to rise across my flesh. Which, in turn, made me feel stupid. Sure, he was being nice and giving me a ride home, but I barely knew the guy. I chalked the warm feelings up to watching too many romance movies with my sappy best friend.
“I like it,” Dominico said, tapping his hand to the beat against the steering wheel.
I nodded. “It was my mom’s favorite song.”
“She had good taste,” he replied. I appreciated the way he didn’t ask about her and just let the topic drop. “You hungry? Want to stop somewhere and get something to eat before I drop you off?”
Driving me home because his boss asked him to was one thing, but he’d put down the top of his car in cold weather for me, let me choose the music, and now he wanted to feed me? My personal experience with guys was limited, but I’d heard enough stories to find his behavior unusual.
“Why are you being so nice?” I asked.
He eyed me, frowning. “I’m just… It’s just… Are you hungry or not?”
And why did he sound so pissed? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. Thank you for the offer, but I’m fine.” I sniffed my clothes. “And in desperate need of a shower. Please just take me home.”
We rode the rest of the way in silence, and when he pulled up in front of my house, he killed the engine, got out, and joined me on the curb.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Walking you to the door,” he replied, gesturing for me to accompany him.
