She was clearly surprised, but a second later gave him a bright smile. “That is the nicest thing that you have said to me since we've met.”
“I think I've actually been quite nice to you.”
She climbed up onto his passenger seat. “Oh, no doubt. But you taking me for froofy coffee, when that is clearly absolutely the last thing you want to do right now, is awesome.”
“Well, I hope you brought some of that money I gave you last night. You're paying.”
She laughed and pulled a hundred dollar bill out of the front pocket of the shorts.
And again, Zander had to hide a smile.
They drove to the main highway that led out of Autre and he turned east. After about two miles, Caroline pivoted on her seat and tucked a foot underneath her.
“You should sit straight.”
“My seatbelt’s on.”
“Seatbelts work better when you're sittin’ right.”
“Yeah, Heather mentioned that you were super protective. That even extends to people you’ve just met?”
“I'm a law enforcement officer. I appreciate safety laws.”
“You're cop in the town where you grew up. Where your family still lives. I'm guessing they have some interesting stories about you when you were a kid. Have you always been buttoned up or do you have some wild times in your history that you’d rather people not know about?”
“You don't need to be asking my family for stories about me.”
“Is this one of those towns where everyone knows everyone? I wouldn't have to technically ask family, right?”
“You don't need to know stories about me.”
“You know a lot about me, I think I should get to know about you.”
Zander looked over at her. He stoically avoided looking at her legs and met her gaze instead. Not that her face was any less tempting. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail and very little if any makeup on. Interestingly without all of the stuff around her eyes and what had to have been fake eyelashes last night, her blue eyes were even brighter and more stunning.
Fucking hell.
“We’re not going to be friends. There's no reason for you to know my history.”
She sighed. “Fine, then tell me some stories about someone else.”
“What makes you think there any interesting stories here?”
“There are interesting stories everywhere, Zander. I know very well that the sweeter and more idyllic something looks, the more chances there are layers and layers of intrigue. Remember I come from a world where people spend lots of time, energy, and money covering things up. The prettier something is, the greater the chance it’s working really hard to cover something up.”
He glanced over at her. “You're very pretty.”
She tipped her head. “Thanks.” Then she nodded. “And I lie to my family on a daily basis, spy on them, and expose their friends’ secrets whenever possible. Plus, there's a very high likelihood that I'm driving a car, wearing clothes, living in a house, and even eating food that was paid for with money that was… obtained by nefarious means.”
“Your father has never been implicated in any crimes.”
She nodded. “Well, so far so good. It is fair to say, though, that the money isn’t exactly earned by my father's hard work and skill.” She paused. “I mean, I suppose a case could be made that my father earns the money by overseeing the company, making deals, and managing what goes on. But the people doing the actual work are far removed from him and they’re certainly not paid anywhere near what he puts in the bank. And, obviously, none of what I spend is earned by my own hard work and skill.”
Zander frowned. There was a bitter edge to her tone and he couldn't help but ask, “It bothers you that you're not making any of your own money?”
“Of course it does. I'm twenty-six. And I'm completely dependent on my father for everything.”
“You could change that.”
“Yeah. You'd think. I mean, I've been staying where I am because I think that there's a purpose for it. But this is the first time I've been aware that my life isn’t really my own. I feel like I’m choosing to be there, but am I? And what I'm contributing to the world at large is questionable.”
Wow. He really should just turn the truck toward New Orleans. What would she do? Now that she was in his vehicle, she couldn’t really stop him from taking her home.
But now there was no way in hell he was going to make her go back to all of that.
Jesus.
They were quiet for nearly a minute. Then she said, “So tell me what you do. Do you feel like you're serving a greater purpose? Are you fulfilled by your work?” She asked it with a tone that indicated she expected him to say no.
So he nodded. “Very.”
“There's a lot of crime to fight in Autre, Louisiana?” she asked.
“Well, like you said, the prettier and more idyllic something looks, the more chances there are layers underneath.”
She turned a little further in her seat, suddenly looking very interested. “Really? There’s a dark underbelly to Autre?”
“No. Because I'm here. With a few friends. But if we weren’t, yeah, there could be a darkness.”
“So the charm isn’t fake?”
“No. But that's what makes me even more determined to keep it in place. There are people who would love to use the real charm to cover up a bunch of dark shit. I won’t let that happen.”
“Tell me more.” She leaned to prop her elbow on the middle console and rested her chin on her hand. “Seriously. You can tell me. I don't know anybody here.” She laughed. “And I'm amazing at keeping secrets. Like, my whole life is a bunch of secrets.”
“Why do you care?”
“Honestly? Okay. This will probably sound bad, but it's because it actually makes me feel a little more normal. It's not that I want bad things to happen everywhere, but the idea that they do, kind of makes me feel a little better. I feel like I'm surrounded by it. I feel like I'm constantly having to be vigilant about who's doing what bad thing today and I'm suspicious of everyone I cross paths with if they have anything to do with my family. It's a terrible way to live, frankly, and knowing that my family isn't some kind of unique magnet for horrible, awful people and behavior is my morbid way of feeling like maybe my life isn't so strange.”
“Oh, trust me, Caroline, your life is pretty strange.”
She laughed. “I know that. And like I said I don't actually want bad things to be happening everywhere. That's a terrible reality.” She paused. “Honestly, I want to hear your stories because you’re succeeding.”
“Succeeding?”
“Yeah, you said you're fighting to keep Autre charming and safe and happy and that it's working. That's what I want to hear about. I want to hear that there are good people out there fighting these fights and winning.”
And just like that, Zander decided he was going to spill his guts to this woman.
Dammit. He wished he could blame it on her blue eyes. Or the shorts. But he knew it was more than that. He was fighting the fight and they were winning, at least mostly, for now, and telling her about it in that moment, seemed like a good idea. He wasn't sure if it was to make her feel better or to make himself feel good. Or maybe both.