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Her head whipped towards me at my harsh tone. That was the thing about me – I was normally an easy going guy, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t share my opinion on things.

“It’s not so bad,” she said. “I was surprised at how few rentals there are in town. But I only signed a three month lease there. I’m planning to find something nicer once I know the area a little better.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to suggest that she move in with me, but it was probably too soon for that. I just needed to figure out how to convince her of what I already knew: she was the woman I was going to marry. Of course there was no way I was going to be able to do that here at work. Jordan was too much of a professional for that, and I had no desire to tarnish her reputation at work anyway. Some of the guys hated her for holding them accountable and would jump on any gossip about her to try to push her out.

“Let me know if you want someone to go with you to look at new places,” I offered. “I’ve lived here all my life. You might talk to Weston too. His wife has a couple of rentals that are much better than where you’re staying. She doesn’t advertise because she prefers to get folks through word of mouth. My friend George’s wife stayed in the apartment next door to their house when she first got to town a while back. It’s nice, but if you stay there you’re gonna have to see Weston on a regular basis, and that would suck.”

Jordan laughed, a sweet tinkling sound that I loved.

“Thanks for offering to help and for sharing the tip about Weston.”

We walked in silence for a minute or two as I screwed up the courage to ask her to do something outside the office. I hadn’t been this nervous about asking a woman out since I’d invited Maisie Gavreau to accompany me to the senior prom. Not that I could make this a date – there was no way Jordan would agree to that. Fortunately, I had another idea.

“Hey Jordan, some of us are going to LJ’s tonight for a drink after our shift. It’s a great little bar just up the road from here where most of the crew hangs out. You should come with us. You could get to know some of the workers outside our team and maybe make some friends.”

She looked a little conflicted. “I don’t know.”

“Come on,” I cajoled. “At least come for one beer and meet my friends from the other sector. You’ll love them. Besides, you can’t spend all your evenings in your crappy apartment staring at the walls.”

She looked at me, then back at her feet. I couldn’t tell if my invitation made her feel uncomfortable, or if she was just shy or something.

“Well, okay,” she finally said, “I guess I could have one drink with you guys. Thank you for the invitation.”

“Great.” I felt way happier than I probably should be over a simple group outing.

“As long as you pass your drug test, that is.”

I could tell she was teasing, so I rolled my eyes.

“Believe me, I’m clean as a whistle, inside and out. I’m one hundred percent drug and disease free, and healthy as a horse too.”

She shot me another look, probably wondering why I’d even said that. Good Lord, I had no game at all. She probably couldn’t even tell that I was trying to flirt with her. Or maybe she did…

“Do you mind if I ask how old you are?” she asked suddenly.

“I just turned thirty-five a few weeks ago.”

“So young,” she muttered under her breath. It sounded like she was disappointed about it.

“Why, how old are you?” I asked.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s not polite to ask a lady her age?” she teased, deflecting the question.

“I don’t know,” I said lightly. “I never had a mother. I grew up in foster care after my mama dropped me off at the fire station when I was just a little baby.”

I’m sure that my mama thought I’d be adopted, but unfortunately back then a lot of families around here couldn’t afford adoption, and the rich white people who did have money usually wanted a white baby. My mama had written my name on a piece of paper she’d tucked into the baby carrier she’d left me in, and best I could figure based on my last name and my light brown skin, I was mixed race, probably Mexican or something. I’d never bothered to do a DNA test to know for sure, but maybe I would someday if I got curious enough.

Jordan’s face fell. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Forget I said that. I had no idea.”

I touched her arm.

“It’s okay, I grew up just fine without parents.”

It hadn’t been easy, but for the most part the succession of foster parents I’d stayed with had been decent people. I was luckier than most, I knew that.

We walked in silence for a few more minutes before she said, “I’m forty-three.”

“You don’t look forty-three,” I told her.