Another nod. Then she said, her voice small, “I’d rather not go out. I don’t have my I.D. or anything….” She let the words trail off, but he got her meaning. If anyone probably needed a drink right about now, it was Caitlin McAllister, and she sure wouldn’t get it at a restaurant, not without being able to prove she was over twenty-one.
“No problem,” he said with a grin, backing the Pathfinder out of its space so he could head out onto Sixth Avenue. Since she was still looking tired and worried, and he wanted to see her smile, he added, “I promise I won’t card you.”
And she did smile at that remark. Just a little, not much more than a lift at one corner of her mouth, but it was a start.
He hoped someday he’d be able to make her smile for real.
6
They drove for a while, far longer than Caitlin had anticipated. For some reason, she’d thought Alex’s house would be closer to the store, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Maybe he’d wanted some separation between his home and his work. Since it was dark, she couldn’t get more than an impression of businesses of all types sliding by past the car windows — restaurants, medical buildings, a mall, the inevitable Starbucks, grocery stores and drugstores and auto parts stores. At last they were turning, moving into a more residential area where the road sloped upward almost imperceptibly. Did he live up in the hills somewhere? She had to admit that her knowledge of Tucson and its environs was basically nil; since she hadn’t been the one driving when she came to town, nothing had left much of an impression on her.
Finally, they turned into a housing tract, one composed of large, new-looking homes, or at least as best she could tell in the subdued street lighting. After winding through a few more streets, Alex pulled into a driveway, then touched the remote clipped to the sun visor of his SUV. A garage door began to open, revealing probably the most spare and uncluttered garage Caitlin had ever seen. Almost everyone she knew in Jerome used their garage for storage, not to actually put their cars in.
But that didn’t seem to be Alex’s mode of operation. He parked the Pathfinder in the right-hand bay, close to a door she presumed led into the house. “Here we are,” he said, quite unnecessarily, but she figured he spoke more to fill up the silence than because he’d expected to startle her with that revelation.
“It’ll be good to get out of the car,” she replied. “I think I’ve spent most of today driving around.” Which, she realized, was only the truth. First the drive from Flagstaff to Jerome, then Jerome to Tucson…and then to Scottsdale and finally back down here. Hard to believe she’d done all that in the space of a day…and harder yet to believe everything that had gone on during those few short hours. Her mind had a hard time acknowledging that she really had just set out from Flag earlier that morning.
“Well, stretch your legs all you want,” Alex said, then headed back to the cargo area so he could retrieve her luggage.
Caitlin felt as if she should protest, should tell him she could take care of that herself. But she realized Alex was only trying to help. Anyway, she was tired. Exhausted, really. If he wanted to carry a couple of suitcases, she should let him.
So she remained silent as he got out her two bags, then waited as he went past her and led her into the house. As she followed him, she had to prevent herself from gawking at the place like some rube from the country who’d never been to the big city before. The place did look practically brand-new, and so did all the furniture. Travertine floors, and bronze and alabaster glass light fixtures, and — well, it was about as different from the big Victorian house she’d grown up in as a person could imagine. And she wouldn’t even bother to compare it to the shabby apartment she shared with Danica. The garage here was nicer than that.
Feeling somewhat cowed, she tagged along while Alex led her into a largish bedroom furnished with an oak daybed and matching dresser and nightstand. He set her bags down on the floor, which was covered in a fine-weave Berber carpet. “Here you go. I hope it’s okay.”
Hope it’s okay? She cleared her throat and replied, “It’s nice. I mean, really nice.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to kick herself. “Really nice”? Seriously?
Either Alex didn’t seem to have noticed the inanity of the remark, or was telling himself she’d had a rough day and so couldn’t really be expected to be all that eloquent. He went on, “The bathroom’s across the hall. There’s soap and clean towels, but if you need anything else — ”