“That’d be smart,” he joked.
She gave it to him, and he drove her there, both of themquiet.
Dutch was reflecting.
Georgiana was not.
He could actually feel her watching him and trying to diginto his head.
When he got to the address, he saw she lived in a high-risecondo complex.An ugly one that was probably put up in the '70s or '80s, and itwould take at least another thirty, maybe forty years to make it retro cool.
Still, it was a hip location, even if the units probablysucked.
He pulled into the loading area in front of the building andstopped.
He also got out, even though she was out, standing on thesidewalk, with her backpack over her shoulder and her bag on its wheels at herside.
She smiled at him and he wished she didn’t.
“For once, I was faster than you,” she teased.
And he wished she didn’t tease either.
“You’re home safe, good luck with the article,” he said ashis goodbye, and began to turn to walk away.
“Dutch,” she called, and he really hated how herkindahusky, but still lilting voice carried his name.
It was like she was touching it…
Him.
Like a tap on his shoulder, a brush of his jaw, her lipsskimming his ear.
He turned back to her.
“I was a total bitch, and it’s totally worth using a curseword.I’m sorry.I’m thinking I need a change in direction, that meaningcareer, because I obviously can’t hack this, and if I can’t hack this, no wayI’m going to get where I want to go in journalism.And it’s been bothering me,because I’m not rolling in the dough in a way I can take a year’s sabbaticalfull of martini lunches with my girlfriends while I write the next GreatAmerican Novel before I try to find another position again.And it’s freakingme out.”
“Just ask for a different beat,” he recommended.
Her brows inched together.“Sorry?”
“Tell your editor you need a break from the kids and ask fora different beat.You need something fresh.I can tell you’re good at what youdo, you care about it, you clearly got a passion for it.It’d suck, you gave itup because you had a tough story that tweaked you, for whatever reason ittweaked you.Move away from that beat.You got something fresh to sink yourteeth into, you’ll be fine.Even Dan Rather sat at a desk after being acorrespondent for years.Everyone needs change, and now’s that time for you.”
Her expression was open, and no other way to describe it,glowingby the time he got done talking.
“So you’re a young budding biker guru,” she said on anothersmile and more teasing.
“No, I’m just not neck deep in it so I see it clearer,” hereplied, not smiling and wanting to get the fuck out of there, because hersmiling, teasing,glowingmeant heneededto get the fuck outof there.
She must have sensed his desire because her smile faded, hewasn’t thrilled to watch it go, but he didn’t say dick.
“Your wisdom I feel made my apology get lost, so I’ll repeatit.I was a bitch, Dutch, and seriously, I’m sorry.There’s no excuse for it.Iguess I was just at my end, and you caught that.”
“I’m a biker, something you got issues with’causeyou got a stick up your ass about shit you don’tknow, issues for you, and undoubtedly with your sister having fun with one.Abiker who walked up to you, so you felt open to smack me with your shit becauseI don’t matter.I’m just a biker.Thatis what happened andthat’swhat you’re apologizing for.”
At his words, she was the one who looked like she’d beensmacked.Her head jerked with it, the whole thing.
Jesus, shit.
