The Wrong Right Man(8)

“I thought you stole my car.” He steps off the ledge of the sidewalk into the road and opens the door, getting in and slamming it closed.

My eyes widen. “Don’t you want to drive?”

“I’m gonna have to double park again in about two minutes. It’s better if you stay where you are,” he says, buckling up.

“I don’t think that’s smart. I almost had a heart attack driving around the block two times.”

“I trust you.”

“You trust me, but you thought I stole your car.” I shake my head. “That doesn’t really make much sense.”

“You didn’t steal it. You moved it so I wouldn’t get a ticket.”

“I’m starting to think you’re a little insane.” I hold up two fingers an inch apart.

His eyes move to my fingers and he grins. “Maybe. But isn’t everyone a little crazy?”

“Maybe,” I agree then ask, “Where am I driving us?”

“The corner store at the end of the next block.”

Right. I pull back out into traffic and drive us there then watch as he gets out, only to come back a minute later with a brown paper bag. He comes around to the driver’s side and opens the door, reaching across me to unhook my belt.

“I’ll take it from here.”

Thank God, I think but don’t say. Still, he must read my expression, because he chuckles as he helps me down only to walk me around to the passenger door and help me in. “Where are we going?” I ask once I’m buckled in and he’s pulling away from the curb.

“Freeway Park, it’s not far from here.”

“Well that screams horror movie,” I mutter under my breath then inwardly smile at the sound of his laughter. When we reach the park, he pulls into a spot on the street and gets out, going to the back door to grab the stuff he picked up.

I meet him on the sidewalk and marvel at the ease I feel as he takes my hand, carrying the bag of our food in the other.

“Have you been here before?”

“No, but it’s beautiful.” I know my voice is filled with awe as I look around. With the sun just starting to set and the buildings all lit up, it looks like a postcard.

“Just wait until I show you the labyrinth.” He leads me down a tree-lined path to a large fountain surrounded by curved benches then motions for me to take a seat.

I sit and watch him unload our food from the bag then trade out my fork for a set of chopsticks before opening up my paper container. Starving, I dig into my noodles with abandon, not caring how I look shoving them into my mouth.

“Thank you for this,” I say as he takes a seat next to me and opens his container.

“For what?” he asks, and I fiddle with my chopsticks.

“It’s been a long week.” I shake my head. “I needed this, a simple meal in a quiet place.”

“What happened this week?” he asks before taking a bite of his noodles.

“I started a new job.” I turn toward him. “I worked at a small news station before I moved here, but I just started working for IMG, and I feel a little out of my league.” I notice his eyes flare slightly but don’t ask what that’s about. “There have just been a lot of changes for me in the last week, and I guess I’m still trying to settle in.”

“Do you like your new job?”

“Yeah, it’s a lot more intense than I’m used to, but I like my boss and the team I’m working with. Everyone seems really nice. It’s just different.”

“Sometimes different is good,” he says softly, and I have to agree with that. “With time, you’ll settle in and find your footing. They wouldn’t have hired you if you didn’t have what they were looking for.”

“You’re right,” I agree. Kathy, my boss, told me something along the same lines today after my first time on air.

“I’m always right.” He winks, and I can’t help but laugh. He watches me for a moment then shakes his head and sets his food aside. He picks up the paper bag he came out of the corner store with and pulls out a cardboard container and two red solo cups. “Keeping with the theme.” He hands me a cup. “Wine from a box.”

Laughing once more, I hold out my cup for him to pour me a drink. “You know the way to my heart.”

“I’m not upset you’re so easy to please.”

“I like cheap food and wine, but I’m definitely not easy,” I say in all seriousness.

“Noted.” He lifts his cup and I do the same. “Here’s to positive changes and settling in.”

“I’ll toast to that.” I touch my cup to his then take a sip, trying not to show exactly how gross it is.

“Wow, that tastes like I bought it from the corner store for four dollars,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and I laugh. God, when was the last time I laughed this much with a man who wasn’t Jamie?

“It’s not so bad.” I attempt to take another sip but end up gagging when the smell hits my nose.

“It’s worse?” He stands, taking my cup from me. “I’ll get you a glass of real wine when we leave here,” he promises and walks both cups and what’s left of the box to the trash. When he comes back, he nudges his knee against mine. “Eat up so I can show you the labyrinth and get you a drink.”