Private Affairs(21)

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, not a full smile, but a hint of one. He turned and walked further into the house, forcing me to follow.

“Who says we’ll stay in the car?”

I guess he had me there. “I’ll be right back,” I mumbled, grudgingly. When I returned, I looked much the same as I did when Sam and I did our stakeout. I was in black jeans, but instead of the turtleneck, I wore a black, V-neck cotton tee. The jersey knit hugged my chest and I purposefully chose it over the frumpy turtleneck. If I had to look at Preston in his leather jacket and blue, clingy shirt, he would have to endure my tee that gave a slight view of my cleavage. He looked at me when I reentered the room, but quickly motioned toward the front door.

“Let’s get a move on. We don’t have much time.”

The ride to Derrek’s work was silent, and I was okay with that. I spent my time trying to figure out what all the buttons did inside Preston’s Lotus. It looked how I imagined the inside of a space shuttle might: flashing lights, switches, buttons everywhere, and even my ass was warm. He parked across the street from the main door, just like Sam had, and we sat and watched, waiting for him to come out. I was in the middle of wishing we had snacks when Derrek walked out. My breath caught in my throat as we silently watched him walk to his car, and I managed to exhale when he pulled out into traffic. Preston pulled out after him, but we didn’t talk as he tailed him.

Preston was noticeably better at following a car than Sam and I had been. He didn’t need me to tell him where to go, or which direction Derrek’s car was heading, as he seemed to manage both the tailing and driving aspects fairly well on his own. So well, in fact, I began to wonder why he’d even brought me along.

“Why am I here?”

“What do you mean? You want to get your proof, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m obviously not needed. I haven’t said one word and you haven’t asked me one question. I’m not aiding your investigation one bit. So why did you bring me?”

“Where did you meet him?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the road and presumably Derrek’s car.

“What?”

“Your husband. Where did you meet him?”

“How is that going to help your investigation?”

He shrugged. “It won’t. You just seem a little uptight so I thought I’d give you what you want – a little interaction.”

I eyed him, trying to decide whether I was going to answer his question. I finally rolled my eyes and gave him the answer. “I met him at a frat party my sophomore year of college.”

“Hmm,” was his response.

“Hmm?”

“I could totally see Derrek as a frat guy, but you, well, you don’t strike me as the kind of girl who hangs out with them.” As he said this, his head swiveled toward me and his eyes were gleaming, a slight smile pulling up the corners of his mouth.

“I wasn’t, really,” I said, turning away from him again. “Sam dragged me there and I was holding up a wall, drinking alone, when Derrek approached me.”

“And then he swept you off your feet?”

It was my turn to shrug. “I suppose. I mean, it’s not like we were engaged the next day or anything, but I never dated anyone else after I met him that night.”

“How old were you?”

“Nineteen.”

“That’s not a lot of time to cram in a lot of dating experience.”

“I hadn’t had any.” The words came tumbling from my mouth and I wanted to reach out and grab each and every one before he’d had a chance to hear them. I cringed inwardly. Preston cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, obviously uncomfortable with my careless and inappropriate confession, and then suddenly, I realized I wasn’t familiar with my surroundings any longer. “I don’t think he’s heading to the same house as he did the other night.”

“What makes you say that?” he asked, and I couldn’t help but think he was glad for the sudden change in subject.

“This isn’t the same route. Last time, we left his building and made our way straight to the freeway. He’s definitely heading somewhere different.”

“Do you remember which freeway he took?”

“Yes. He took I-84, headed East.”

Before I knew what was happening, Preston slid his souped-up Lotus around the next corner, hanging a right so sharp I was forced to lean to my left, and centrifugal force had me leaning right into Preston’s shoulder. My hands reached out to the sides, trying to find purchase on any surface that would keep me upright.

“What the hell, Preston?” I shouted as the car straightened out. My heartbeat was thundering and I looked to him, searching for an explanation.