And though he hadn't smiled in greeting at her, he did so at Vinnie, reaching out to ruffle the top of the dog's head affectionately. "And where are you catching a ride to?" he asked.
"Wherever you're going. I presume to someone on the list, right?"
He didn't sigh. Joe didn't give away his emotions that easily. But she sensed his irritation as he gave Vinnie one last pat and beeped his truck unlocked. Kylie jumped into the passenger seat before he could turn her away.
Joe slid behind the wheel, expression a little tight. He wasn't happy. The irony didn't escape her. After a very long dry spell, she'd kissed two men in the past week. One who wanted to be with her and one who didn't.
And here she sat with the man who didn't. Clearly she needed help. And as she clicked into the seatbelt, she told herself she was doubly grateful Joe hadn't called her after the infamous kiss, because seriously? She'd gotten a little drunk at a bar and kissed some guy? This guy? The wrong-for-her guy? Who was she, her own damn mother?
Kissing the wrong man was her mom's MO, as was making poor decisions when it came to the male species. Or life, really. Kylie didn't want to be that person or make those mistakes. And Joe, sexy and hot as he was, represented exactly that-the mistakes she'd seen all during her growing up years, the kind of men her mom had always brought home, the guy who burned hot and fast and then disappointed and disappeared.
But for all her determination to not be her mom, to live life more seriously and be content just watching the fun happen around her, she had an embarrassing truth. For that five minutes she'd been in Joe's arms, she'd been transported. Transfixed.
And aroused beyond belief.
None of which she'd felt in Gib's arms earlier. Shaking that off, she asked, "So where are we going?"
"The Embarcadero," Joe said. "Rowena Butterfield was your grandpa's last apprentice."
"Ro," Kylie said with a smile. Rowena was a throwback to a flower power child of the sixties. She was in her forties, but seemed timeless, and she was a real talent as well. Her grandpa had loved her and so had Kylie. "She's great. She didn't have anything to do with this, Joe."
"She was fired from her last job for questionable behavior and she's now selling her wares at a little stand near Pier 39."
"No," Kylie said. "No way."
"Yes way."
She slid him a look. "Define ‘questionable behavior.'"
"She stole a hundred-year-old bottle of wine from a winery and when confronted, hit the winery employee over the head with the bottle."
Okay, so that was definitely questionable behavior, but she shook her head. "That can't be right."
Joe didn't comment. He drove them through the city to the Embarcadero, where he parked. She started to get out of the truck along with him but he pointed at her.
"No," he said.
She arched a brow. "I'm sorry. What?"
"You're staying here. The rug rat too. I'm starving, so if I pick up some food, what do you want?"
The guy was a contradiction from head to toe. Badass and ready to save the world one minute, deceptively playful the next. He was constantly hungry and on the perpetual search for food. She had no idea where he put the million-plus calories he consumed in a day. "I'm not staying in the truck," she said.
He pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head and gave her what was surely a patented you're driving me crazy look. "Yes, you are."
She crossed her arms. "The only way that's going to happen is if you handcuff me," she said. "You going to handcuff me, Joe?"
There was a very slight softening around his mouth and his eyes heated. "Only if you ask me real nice."
Her every single erogenous zone quivered, and she had more of them than she remembered having. "You do realize this is the twenty-first century and men don't get to tell women no anymore, right?" she asked.
"Kylie, this woman can ID you."
"Well, yes," she admitted.
"So you stay here. You too," he said to Vinnie, who licked Joe's finger.
"Wait." She was so not okay with this, even if a little part of her wanted to lick Joe's finger too, amongst other body parts. "I-"
"She knows you, Kylie. Presumably she likes you. She's never going to admit to stealing your carving if you're standing right there while I question her."
Okay, so maybe he had a point.
Joe studied her for a moment and then, apparently satisfied that she was going to stay, he nodded. "I'll be back."
She waited three minutes and then got out of the truck, but not before "borrowing" a big black hoodie from his backseat and what was clearly a spare pair of sunglasses in his console. She pulled the sweatshirt on over hers, hood up, slid on the sunglasses, and glanced at herself in the mirror. She was so keeping the sunglasses.
"There," she said to Vinnie. "Incognito. What do you think?"
Vinnie cocked his head to one side and then the other, his ears quivering with excitement. He sensed an adventure. He loved adventures. She put him on a leash and headed to Pier 39, eyes peeled for Joe.
There was an area in front of the pier where individual vendors sold their wares. The place was crowded with people, mostly tourists, giving her plenty of cover.
She and Vinnie stopped at the first vendor, who was selling pet costumes. Perfect! She scooped up Vinnie and showed him a lion costume, complete with mane. "What do you think?"
Vinnie licked it.
Good enough. She paid for the costume and put it on Vinnie. "Now you're undercover like me," she told him. She could see the line of vendors going up the Embarcadero. Several ahead of her was Rowena, who appeared to be selling all sizes of handcrafted, ornately carved wooden boxes.
She didn't see Joe. Huh. She was still standing there in indecision when someone set a hand at the nape of her neck and squeezed lightly.
Chapter 6
WhatWeHaveHereIsAFailureToCommunicate
Kylie nearly leapt right out of her own skin. And then a familiar low male voice said in her ear, "I knew you wouldn't be able to stay."
"Joe," she gasped, sagging a little. "You startled me. I didn't see you."
"No shit. But we all saw you," he said, his hand warm on the back of her neck. "You and your vicious pet lion."
Kylie looked down at Vinnie, who'd fallen asleep at her feet, mouth open, snoring at maximum volume. She scooped him up. He snorted and snuggled in, setting his head on her shoulder, going right back to sleep.
And back to snoring.
"Ruthless guard dog on the job," Joe said, steering her away from the vendors and toward where he'd parked. "Are you wearing my sweatshirt?"
"Yes, and your spare sunglasses too," she said. "It's my disguise."
His mouth quirked. She was pretty sure he was laughing at her on the inside.
"What did you learn?" she asked.
"Not here."
When they got back to his truck, he took a call on Bluetooth.
"Four a.m. tomorrow," Archer's voice said. "Be locked and loaded."
"Ten-four." Joe disconnected with a flick of his thumb on a button on his steering wheel.
Kylie stared at him.
Joe kept his gaze on the road.
"What was that?" she asked.
"Tomorrow's job."
"Four a.m., locked and loaded?" she repeated. "What kind of a job is that?
"The kind I can't talk about."
She sighed and tried to let it go, but curiosity killed the cat and all that. "Is this job dangerous?"
He spared her a quick glance, eyes amused.
Right. All his jobs had the potential to be dangerous. Very much so. It hadn't been too long ago that Archer had been shot on the job. And Joe himself had taken a bat to the back of his head in a terrifying incident as well. She was thinking about that, the differences in their lifestyles, when his phone rang again.
It was Molly on speaker that time. "I need backup on Dad," she said.
Oddly enough, this had him looking far more tense than needing to be "locked and loaded" tomorrow morning at four a.m. He pulled the truck over and took the phone off Bluetooth. "What's wrong?" he asked. He listened and then pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah. Got it. I'll take care of it."
Then he disconnected and speed-thumbed a long text. He sent, waited a minute, got a response that he read, and returned with another, a short one this time, before he started driving again.
All without a word.
Kylie couldn't hold her tongue. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah."
"This would be a lot more satisfying conversation if you used more than one word at a time," she said.
She thought maybe she detected the slightest exhalation from him at that. His version of a sigh. "My dad's got some problems I need to take care of," he finally said.
Her heart squeezed with worry. "Do you need any help?"