Not in Love(8)

“I can put the address in your GPS—”

“Can you please listen to me for one minute?” someone called, and when they turned back, Vincent was running toward them across the empty parking lot. “You can’t make this decision for the both of us, and I just need you to—”

“Go home, Vince,” she said.

Vince stopped. Then started again in their direction, his gait more menacing. “No, not until you listen to me—”

“I have listened. And I’ve asked you for a few days so I can think it through.”

“You’re being a bitch, as always—”

Eli had heard enough, and stepped in front of the woman. “Hey. Apologize and get lost.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Vince glowered. “This has nothing to do with you.”

Eli wasn’t so sure. He unlocked his car remotely, tossing the woman his keys. She caught them without hesitation. “Get in the passenger seat. I’ll be with you in a second.”

She didn’t move, instead staring at Eli with an expression that he could only define as crestfallen. After a long moment, her lips parted. Don’t hurt him, she mouthed.

Eli ground his teeth, wondering how this loser could have this much power over her. How he’d gotten someone like her in the first place. But he nodded, watched her disappear inside his car, and turned to Vincent.

He was tall, too, and wide shouldered, even if not as much as Eli. Still, he must have seen something in Eli’s eyes, because his first reaction was to take a step back. Then, once his spine met a pilaster, to flatten himself against it.

“You need to stop bothering women who ask you to fuck off, Vincent,” Eli said. Amiably, he thought. He was being a damn gentleman about this.

“You have no idea what she—”

He stepped close enough for Vincent’s boozy smell to hit him. “It doesn’t matter,” he said calmly. Don’t hurt him, she’d asked, but god, Eli was tempted. “You can walk away now on your own, or I can make you. Your choice.”

Vincent didn’t take long to deliberate. With a couple of curse words, he scurried away, jumpily turning every few steps, always finding Eli staring at him. Once he’d disappeared, Eli found the woman was in the passenger seat of his car, hands in her lap.

Rosie, maybe. Rosamund would fit her, too.

“Where did you say you live?”

She lifted her eyes but didn’t reply. “I’m surprised.” She looked around, and he could smell her so intensely, he had to get a grip. Skin and flowers and fabric softener. It was well past good, straight into dangerous territory. “I didn’t peg you for a hybrid kind of guy.”

He snorted and started the engine. “Don’t say what you did peg me for.”

“A Mustang, maybe.”

“Jesus.” He wiped a hand over his face.

“Or a Tesla.”

“Get the fuck out. You’re walking home.”

She laughed once, low in her throat, and the sound made him feel dizzy and powerful and accomplished. She was safe in his car, making jokes. Not on high alert as she’d been earlier. She was letting him take care of her.

He just needed to stop noticing how close she was.

“Here.” He handed her his phone. “Put your address in.”

“It’s locked. I’ll need your password.”

He turned to tell her and forgot to speak. Her haircut, he realized, was more elaborate than he’d originally thought. It was cropped close to the skull for a couple of inches around her left ear. Pretty. He’d have to ask Minami what the style was called.

“Are you embarrassed because it’s a string of sixty-nines?”

His mind took a brusque, inappropriate, sexual turn. Unavoidable, too. He’d been on the edge of it for a while, and it was getting harder to leash it back. “Two seven one eight two eight.”

“Your password is Euler’s number?”

They exchanged a surprised, plane-tilting look. Like they were only just now meeting.

“Are you a scientist?” she asked, suddenly curious, and it was the first time he could perceive this kind of interest in him on her part. She’d asked to use his body and volunteered hers in exchange, she’d gone through his documents with the efficiency of a DMV clerk, but she had not considered him beyond the here and now.

Until this moment.

“If I say yes, will you take it as proof that I’m the Unabomber?”

She smiled. A little wider than before.

“I’m not a scientist,” he admitted, loath to disappoint her. But it was the honest, if painful, answer. “I just studied science for a bit.”

“A minor in college?”

“Something like that.” No point in bringing up the rest.

“What do you do, then?”

“Boring money stuff.”

“I see.” She didn’t seem disappointed. She was still looking at him, searching. It was intoxicating, having her eyes on him. Her attention felt more precious than gold, stocks, market crash predictions.

“Are you a scientist?”

She nodded.

“What kind?”

“Engineer.” He pulled out of the lot, then turned to her when the soft weight of her hand settled on his forearm, a sudden shock of warmth in the blow of the AC.