I’m beyond shocked that she breaks past the barrier she built and pours out her heart and soul to me. Hell, she doesn’t even know me. Still, that doesn’t stop me from wanting to know her.
“I see,” I utter. “Where is he now? In Oregon?”
“San Diego.”
San Diego? Really? I’m pretty sure the look I give tells her that I’m appalled. “Please don’t tell me you’re on your way to San Diego to start drama with your ex and his new girl.”
She frowns harshly. “First of all, he’s my ex-best friend. Nothing else. Besides, I told you where I was headed, and it’s nowhere near San Diego.”
Feisty, feisty. I hold my hands up in surrender. “Fair enough. So, you’re headed to Carmel to enjoy the summer on the beach with your friend. I got it.”
“Not the whole summer,” she clarifies. “Maybe a week or two.”
“Why not make it three?” I toss out there. “You’re going through the trouble to get there. You might not arrive for another day with the governor tying up the Golden State Freeway and all.”
The only word I can come up with to describe the current expression on her face is remorseful. I imagine her regretting not turning around and going home when she had the chance.
“Heck, why not?” she says, reclaiming her earlier upbeat mood. “Maybe I will.”
“As you should.”
“Nothing wrong with laying out on the beach for another week or two, right? I’ll probably get more sun in three weeks than I’ve ever got during most of my life living in Oregon,” she quips.
“No doubt. Although, I hope you packed your sunscreen.”
She raises a brow. “How long have you lived in California?”
“My whole life,” I answer.
“Well, if you’d ever lived in the Portland area, you’d know they don’t even sell that shit. Sunny days are a luxury. They’re rarely seen. In fact, freaking Seattle of all places has about ten more days of sun than we do. If you visit the Oregon coast in June, you still need a jacket.”
I frown. “Who the hell wants to wear a jacket on the beach?”
“Exactly!”
She’s as appalled as I am. I laugh. Boy, she’s cute and funny.
“Fair point about Portland and the lack of sun. I guess you’ll just have to pick up sunscreen once you get to Carmel,” I concede.
“That’s the plan.” Quen bops playfully in her seat while plopping a thinning ice cube from her glass and into her mouth.
Jesus—that luscious mouth. I’m seconds away from looking below the table and saying to my dick, ‘Down boy’. In order to kill the distraction, I direct the conversation elsewhere.
“I assume your ride will take you to where you’re headed—and safely?”
“Marjorie—she’s the truck driver…she can only get me to Sacramento. Then she’s off to Nevada from there.”
I’m doing a piss poor job at disguising my annoyance. Not only is this girl hitching a ride with a stranger, but she’ll have to find another ride in order to get all the way to her destination. Quen may be with someone who’s relatively safe this time; but next time, she might not be so lucky.
I mean…look at her. She’s extremely attractive and young. Some asshole’s just lurking in the bushes, waiting to take advantage of someone just like her. I can’t let that happen. Not with a clear conscience.
“I can take you right to your friend’s beach house.”
She gasps. “Oh my gosh…thank you. Thank you, but I can’t accept your offer. That’s two hours out of your way—even more if you count the mandatory detour.”
“I’m not going directly home to San Francisco, so it’s no trouble at all. I actually need to stop in Salinas to see a business contact I’ve been meaning to touch base with for a while. Carmel isn’t far off from there, so why don’t you let me take you?”
Her hesitation is palpable. She had no qualms accepting a ride from a female truck driver, but taking a ride from a man she just met an hour ago? Half of me wants to applaud her for being so vigilant concerning her own safety and drop the subject. The other half wants to do this…
“Look, I know you don’t know me, but you just got done hitching a ride with someone else who you don’t know. If I knew you well, I’d discourage you from taking rides from strangers, including someone like me. But since you’re here, and since I know I’m trustworthy, I’m asking you to please accept my offer to take you to your friend’s place.”
Not giving her a chance to argue, I reach into my back pocket, pull out my wallet, and retrieve one of my cards. I hand it to her, and she instantly looks it over.
“Drew O’Brien… Founder and CEO of DOB-Com, Incorporated,” she recites.
She looks back at me and her expression says that she’s perplexed. I can tell the name of my company slightly rings a bell for her, but I don’t want to press the issue. If I mentioned things like Lifeography and Pro-NetWork, she’d know exactly where she saw the DOB-Com logo before. The brands that fall under the big umbrella are indeed household names. However, the umbrella itself is still a mystery to those who aren’t insiders in the tech industry. It’s an elaborate marketing strategy that I hope to maintain.
“If you’d like, I can take a picture of it. You can stand over my shoulder while I text it to your family and friends. I can also hand you my phone, and you can do a quick search on me. I’m a well-known businessman in San Francisco who employs thousands of people, and therefore can’t afford to have an abduction on my record.”
She sighs but seems to be considering my offer. I decide to bring my point home. “Are you going to accept my offer to take you to Carmel or not? We’ve been sitting here for almost an hour and a half, and your ride has yet to show up.”
Quen’s eyes grow wider in realization, and she frantically scans the restaurant once again. This time, she sighs in relief when she spots a woman in a gray hoodie sipping coffee at the bar. They make eye contact, and the woman gives Quen a wink before lifting her white mug towards her in a toast. Quen blushes.
What the hell was that about? I wonder.
Turning back to me, Quen says, “I accept your offer to send your business card to my friend, Blair. She also has your cell number since I called her from it.”
I smile in victory. “Good. I’ll text her my e-business card right now.”
As I retrieve my phone to complete the task, Quen stands and then rounds the table to hover over my shoulder. I complete each step slowly and deliberately, so she can see exactly what I’m doing.
“Done,” I announce. When I look up at her, she blinks as if she was just waking up from a trance. Now she’s blushing again. I can’t help but smile as I wonder what’s going on in that pretty little head of hers, but I keep my thoughts to myself.
“Should we visit your new friend over at the bar and let her know you’re hitching a ride with me?”
“Sure,” Quen nods. “I’ll need to get my bag from her truck.”
As I rise to join her, I smile in giddy anticipation behind her back. It’s ironic how excited I am, considering the reason I escaped to the road in the first place. My plan was to turn off from the world completely. That meant avoiding human interaction at all costs, if I could help it.