When he started the engine, Elodie had to agree that it sounded pretty smooth. Not that she knew anything about cars or engines. She could make a mean parmesan risotto with roasted shrimp, but didn’t have the first clue about how to even change a tire. It was probably a good thing she didn’t have a vehicle right now.
“Why do guys always say their car is female?” she asked as Scott pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward her place.
“I suppose because a car is pretty important to men. They usually have their own personalities and we spend a lot of time with them. I like to pamper my car and make her run as well as she can, and thus I treat her as if she’s my wife…and now that I’m trying to explain it, it sounds ridiculous.”
Elodie lifted a brow at him. “I’d argue that referring to cars as female promotes the ideology that women are objects, things seen as property owned by men. It’s subconscious, and maybe not even something men think about, but it still perpetuates the notion and it’s detrimental in the long run.”
Scott was silent for a long moment after she’d spoken.
Elodie wrinkled her nose and mentally smacked herself in the forehead. Jeez, giving Scott a lecture wasn’t how she wanted to start out getting reacquainted with him.
“You’re right,” he said. “I definitely don’t see women as property, and I can understand how it would be harmful.”
Elodie stared at him, not sure how to respond.
“What?” he asked.
“I just…I’m not a diehard feminist, but I’ve been through my share of discrimination in my field. Many times people expect women to be sous chefs instead of in charge of a kitchen. I’ve had to fight hard to get my opinion across with male-dominated staff, and it’s annoying as hell. I didn’t mean to start a philosophical debate or anything. You can call your car whatever you want.”
“What would you name this beast?” Scott asked, not seeming put out in the least.
Elodie thought about the question for a bit, liking that he didn’t rush her or try to fill the silence with meaningless conversation.
“Ben,” she said after a couple miles had passed.
Scott burst out laughing. “Ben?”
“Yeah. Ben is the name of a guy who on the outside is nothing special. Maybe he blends into a crowd and isn’t noticed a lot. But underneath he could be a rocket scientist. There’s Benjamin Franklin, Benny Hill, Benjamin Harrison…and I had a neighbor growing up whose name was Ben. To look at him, you would think he was the biggest nerd, and maybe he was, since he was on the chess team, which is shitty of me to say because it’s a huge stereotype. Especially after I just lectured you about objectifying.
“Anyway, he was also one of the most generous guys I’ve ever met. He was always organizing fundraisers for people and paying for students’ lunches and stuff like that. Everyone liked him too. The jocks, the band geeks, the theater people. So I think Ben is the perfect name for your truck. On the outside, he looks a little rough, but under the hood he’s a perfect gentleman and will get you where you need to go.”
When Scott didn’t immediately say anything, Elodie started to feel awkward. Shit, there she went, being weird again.
But then Scott turned to her with a huge smile on his face. “Ben. I like it.”
She sighed in relief. “Oh! Sorry, the turn is right up here,” she said, pointing to a street ahead on the left. She gave him directions through the narrow streets past some of the newer homes to the older section in the back. There, the homes were closer together and much smaller, but almost all of the families had been welcoming. They teasingly called her Haole. She’d learned that a haole was a person who wasn’t a native Hawaiian. It was often used as a derogatory term, but since everyone who’d called her that in the neighborhood did so with a huge smile—and when they brought her native Hawaiian dishes—she didn’t take offense. She was the only white person in the neighborhood, after all, and she stood out.
In some ways, that made her feel safer. If Paul or his henchman ever found her and staked out the place, her neighbors would definitely notice.
Scott parked in front of the house she lived in and she said, “I won’t take that long. I’ll tell Kalani that you’re with me so she doesn’t worry.”
“Take your time, El. I’m good out here.”
“Okay. I’d invite you in, but—”
“It’s fine,” Scott said, interrupting her.
But Elodie still wanted to explain. “I just have one room. There’s a bathroom, of course, but the room itself is crowded. Heck, I think there’s probably more space in this truck than in my room.”
“I said it’s fine,” Scott repeated quietly. “You don’t have to defend where you live to me.”
She kind of felt like she did, but she let it drop. “All right. I’ll be back soon.”
“No rush. Do you trust me to order for you? I can call in our order to Helena’s so it’ll be ready when we get there.”
“Yes. Although remember, I don’t eat seafood.”
“I remember. I’ll get a variety of things so if there’s something you don’t like, you won’t starve.”
“Thanks.” Elodie could have told him that, other than the seafood thing, she wasn’t all that picky. She’d eaten her share of odd things in her lifetime, and it was hard to be a chef if you were a picky eater. But she was interested in seeing what he thought she might like.
She climbed out of the truck and hurried around to the side entrance, to her room. She paused to knock on the door that led into the main living area of the home. She told Kalani about Scott and explained that he was a soldier on the nearby base, and that he was with her. Then she hurried into her room to shower and change.
Fifteen minutes later, Elodie was ready. Her hair was still wet, but it would dry soon enough in the warm afternoon air. She felt energized and excited. Scott’s suggestion that they not talk about any deep subjects today made all the difference. She looked forward to getting to know him as a man, not as someone who wanted to “save” her.
She’d put on a flowered sundress she’d bought at one of the ABC Stores. It was made of cheap cotton and only cost fifteen bucks, but it made her feel pretty.
She had no illusions about why she wanted to look nice either.
Scott Webber was one hell of a good-looking man. And she couldn’t deny that she was attracted to him. Had been from the first time she’d met him…and that was before she’d even gotten a good look at him. He hadn’t treated her as if she was helpless. He’d trusted her to tail him and Midas. And he hadn’t hesitated to offer his gratitude after she’d saved his life.
Yeah, it was safe to say she was attracted to the Navy SEAL and had been more than glad to see him chasing after her earlier that afternoon. The look of relief and excitement in his eyes when he realized it was her still made Elodie’s skin tingle. Had any man ever been that happy to see her? She didn’t think so.
For the millionth time, Elodie kicked herself for losing his number. She should’ve memorized it the second she’d looked at that piece of paper.
She walked out to the truck and saw he was scrolling on his phone. Elodie knew she should’ve picked up a cell, but she hadn’t really needed one. Her room had a land line, and Kalani even supplied her with a phone. If she needed to get in touch with Perry or Kahoni, she could, and they knew she didn’t have a cell, so they called her in the mornings or evenings if they wanted to get ahold of her.