“I grew up in a Southside bar. I know all the realities. I’ve heard the stories. I’ve seen more things than I have time to explain right now, but I know. I’m not stupid, Oliver.”
Well, this isn’t going the way I want. “Okay,” I tell her, backing off for now. I don’t want to ruin the entire day, and I don’t want to send her inside to meet with a new client in a shit mood. I’d hate to be the cause of her not getting a job.
“Okay?” she asks, an eyebrow raised. “We’re done with this conversation?”
“Yes,” I reply, but I leave out the little part about how we’re not done forever, just for the moment.
“Good.” She grabs her bag, hauling it into her lap. “I’ll be as quick as possible, and then we can get something to eat.”
“Okay, sweetheart. Take your time. I’ve got some shit I can do.” What that shit is…I have no idea. I’ll scroll on my phone or take a nap, catching up on some much-needed sleep after a long night last night.
Lulu leans over, and I meet her in the middle to give her a kiss. “I’ll be careful,” she says against my lips.
“I’m here if you need me,” I say back, staring into her beautiful eyes.
When she pulls away and reaches for the door handle, she says, “I’ll send up the bat signal if I’m in trouble.” And then she’s gone.
All I can do is shake my head. The girl is trouble, and her attitude is unmatched. I can’t be the first person in her life who’s talked to her about the dangers of going to a stranger’s house. Can I? I’ve met her father twicenow, and he seems involved and just as opinionated as she is. I’ve got to believe he’s had a talk with her and is maybe the reason why she carries a gun, but he’d be horrified to know it’s not easily accessible since she just throws it into her bag like it’s a little umbrella.
I keep my eyes trained on Lulu as she saunters up the path to the front door, fixing her outfit as she walks. Damn. She’s everything I always wanted in a woman but never thought I’d get. She is too good for me, but that doesn’t mean I am about to quit her and whatever this is we have going on.
When the door opens, my heart slows just a little. An older woman with gray hair is standing there, and she smiles down at my Lulu with such sincerity, I can only assume she doesn’t look like the serial-killer type. I slouch down in the seat, waiting for Lulu to step inside before I close my eyes.
The door to her SUV opens, and she says, “Glad to know you were ready to rescue me.”
I bolt upright, my heart pounding erratically in my chest.Fuck.I was tired. My body isn’t used to late-night shifts anymore, and my age doesn’t help shit. “I knew you had it under control.”
“Uh-huh,” she mumbles as she slides into the seat next to me. “I survived.”
“This time,” I whisper as I shake the sleep from my head.
“A majority of my clients are women.”
“And?” I ask, but I already know where she’s going with this conversation.
“Women aren’t typically murderers. It’s men.”
“How do you know it’s going to be a woman on the other side of that door?”
“I check out their social media once they contact me, and if it’s via email, I do a little research on them too. I’m very careful.”
I have two choices. I could spend the day arguing with her about the holes in her client-intake process, or I could let it drop—at least for now—and have an enjoyable day with my girl.
“I know you are.”
“Can we go to lunch and talk about something else?” she asks, pushing the start button to fire up the rumbly engine I love so much in an SUV like this.
“I’m down with that.”
“Good. I know of a great place near here that I’ve been dying to try.”
I don’t utter the joke that clings to the tip of my tongue about how very close she actually could’ve been to dying by meeting a stranger at her house.Don’t be a dick, Oliver. Cut the woman some slack.
“I’m game for whatever you are.”
“Excellent,” she says. “Are you a picky eater?”
I point to myself, motioning up and down my body with my fingers. “Do I look like I’m a picky eater?”
