“I guess a woman is more relatable than a man,” I finish for him as I tuck my tongue in my cheek, forcing my smile not to tug at the corner of my lips.
“Dorothy has some jokes?” He laughs and continues, “Anyway, when I saw my car in the lot for the first time, I knew off the bat she was the one. When I took her for a test drive, I was hooked and couldn’t wait to take her places. There was an instant connection. Like an attraction, you know?”
“And let me guess, you drive a sleek sports car,” I assume, giggling.
“A truck,” he says nonchalantly.
“A truck?”
“And what’s wrong with a truck?”
“Trucks don’t purr, Brody.”
“Well, this one does. It’s a low purr. She may be quiet at first, but when she wants to be, she’s feisty and tough.”
His words pull at me and I’m left wondering if we’re still talking about cars. He stands in front of me with such confidence, comfortable in all his manhood. And, he’s all man. His broad shoulders tower over me as I quickly study the line of his jaw and he darts his tongue out to lick his lips.
“And her name is . . .”
“Lola,” he states as if it’s the most natural thing to name a truck.
My laugh bellows from the pit of my belly. I shake my head at how ridiculous this conversation is. Maybe I’m laughing because I’m exhausted from the late-night shift at work or for the first time since I arrived in Southern California I don’t want to go home.
“You named your truck Lola?” I say, wiping a tear from my eyes as my laugh echoes around us.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“That’s a stripper name. Trucks are supposed to be guys and sportscars are girls.”
“Says who? And now you agree a car should be named after a girl?”
“It’s common sense.”
“I beg to differ, Kansas.” A lopsided grin tugs at his face and for the first time in a long time, a brick from my sky-high wall falls at my feet, feeling vulnerable yet safe in his presence.
The mugginess left behind is a fresh breeze. The streetlamp we’re standing under is a bit brighter. Even though I don’t know a thing about this man, there’s something comfortable about this moment.
He doesn’t say another word. It feels like the air has shifted as the aroma of laundry detergent blended with the intoxicating clean scent of his cologne surrounds me as I breathe him in.
“Well, this is it, Brody.” I motion to the front door of my house and all the windows are lit up. “Your escort service has now come to the end on the yellow brick road.”
“Yellow brick road. That’s cute, Dorothy.” His chin juts to the living room window with the bright lamp. “Somebody home?”
“No. I leave lights on in the house,” I tell him. “A house should always be lit when you come home. It’s welcoming. I have been doing it since I was a kid.”
“Nothing wrong coming home to a well-lit home. But your electricity bill must be through the roof.”
“Lucky for us, we have solar panels.”
“We?” He angles his head.
“My roommate, Sydney. The woman I was with at the club.”
“Ah, yes. How is she?”
“She’s good. Syd saw her ex-boyfriend at that private party. And I think they’re trying for a second time around.”
“And what about you? Do you have an ex-boyfriend that wants you back?”
As much as I try to stay calm, his question puts me on edge. My insides churn, paranoia strikes as if I am back at home with Todd lurking in the shadows, watching me. I shake the thought out of my head.
“I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?” he asks.
“No. Yes . . . I mean, no.” I try to regain my composure at his unnerving question. Get a grip, Dee. Todd is not here.
“Which is it, Dee? No or yes?”
“Yes, there is an ex-boyfriend . . . and no, he’s not someone I would ever give a second chance,” I say with certainty.
“That’s good to hear.” A smile pulls at the corner of his lips.
The board creaks as I take a step up on my porch and I’m eye to eye with Brody when I face him. I look back at the front door, hearing Serena’s paws scratch against the wood.
“Is that Toto?” he asks playfully.
“Serena. And she’s not a small dog. She’s a Husky-German Shepherd mix.”
He holds up his hand, counting off his fingers. “First, pepper spray and now a guard dog. Something tells me you like to protect yourself.”
“Something like that.” If he only knew. My body tenses for a moment at the thought of Todd and the only reason I brought Serena with me. She hated him and every time he came near my home, she growled and barked like crazy.
My feet shift again as the wood slat makes a rickety sound and Serena’s whimpers become louder. I clear my throat. “Well, thanks for escorting me home, Mr. Brody-the-bodyguard.”
His sigh is audible. “At least I didn’t lose you this time.”
“That was partly my fault,” I admit. “I did it on purpose.”
“And why would you do that?”
The image of that drunk woman as if she was staking a claim on Brody comes back to me. Mused hair, pouty lips, and her breasts pressed against him. All because of his good looks and spellbinding eyes, which are hard to look away from. I’m sure he can wiggle his way into the undergarments of any woman.
Maybe even mine.
“When that drunk girl fell in your arms, I figured you were one of those guys.” Did I just say that? I could kick my ass.
He twists his lips and his grin turns playful. His fingers softly pull on my chin and his eyes lock onto mine. And I swear, this time, I hear another brick fall from my wall.
I should jerk back, feel skittish at his touch. But I don’t this time. I steady my breathing as he stands in front of me. Chemistry I feel and don’t want, ignites in the air.
“I assure you I am not that kind of guy. Losing you in that crowd was the last thing I wanted. Finding you tonight and walking you home is exactly where I needed to be.”
“Thank you.”
“Have dinner with me.” His voice is demanding, yet gentle.
“Dinner . . . like a date?”
“Yes, a date. That thing two people do to get to know each other better.” His finger volleys between us. “Maybe grab a bite to eat. Besides, I owe you a cup of hot cocoa since I made you drop it.”
“Oh, I don’t know . . .” I avert my eyes to the front door when Serena yelps, her cry for a walk.
“Tell you what. We can make it casual. Meet me at Tawney’s, let’s say Friday at nineteen hundred.”
“Friday?”
“Yes. Comes after Thursday, before Saturday. It’s a week from today. Friday.” He takes a step back as he taps on his wrist.
“I-I . . . Brody, what if I said no?”
“Uh-uh . . . nice try, but I will make sure you’ll want to meet me.”
“Oh, yeah, how?”
“I have my ways. And a few surprises up my sleeve.”
“Like how you surprised me tonight?”
“Get in that well-lit house of yours, lock up behind you, and take care of Toto. She sounds hungry.” He points to the front door. “Are you sure you don’t have a flying monkey in there?”