Wrong Place, Right Time(95)

After I lock the front door behind me, we walk down the front steps together. “Where are we going?” I ask.

He accompanies me over to the passenger side of the car and opens the door for me. I’m charmed. I know it’s old-fashioned, but I can’t help it. Miles never did that for me, even when we were dating.

“You’ll see. Don’t worry, you’ll like it. I promise.”

I get into the car and smooth my dress down as he closes the door. I have a few moments to admire his amazing body as he makes his way around the front of the car and over to the driver’s side. I feel really lucky to be with him tonight, even if this is just a friendly date. I’m also feeling especially fortunate that we work together, because if we run out of things to talk about at dinner, we could always discuss business. I’m super curious about his friends’ backstories, so if nothing else, this dinner is an opportunity to get to know my own coworkers a little bit better.

Dev starts up his beast of a car and reverses out of the driveway, using the heel of one hand on the steering wheel to spin it around and around. We leave the neighborhood heading north, and soon we’re out on the main road that I know will take us to an area of town I don’t frequent very often. But I’m not going to worry about it, because I trust this man. I know he would never put me in danger.

“Great job at work today,” he says.

“Thanks. It was no big deal.” I was never very good at accepting compliments about my work. Performance evaluations are something I can deal with, because they’re mostly on paper, but when people compliment me to my face, it always makes me feel like I need to squirm around in my seat. I stare out the side window, waiting for that sensation to pass.

“Well, Ozzie thought it was a big deal. And so did I.”

“Toni didn’t.” I try not to sound bitter about that.

Dev shakes his head a little. “Don’t worry about Toni. She’ll come around. She’s just stubborn and protective.”

I look at Dev. “Does she actually think I would do something to harm you guys?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t think she believes you’d do anything purposely, anyway. But she does worry that having people on the team who lack training could be a liability. And she’s not wrong about that.”

I want to defend myself, but she’s probably right. This isn’t a regular job that you walk into and work for eight hours and leave. It’s a security company that deals with really sensitive information, and I’m about as far from security material as a person can be.

“But don’t worry about it,” he says. “We’ll get you whipped into shape in no time.”

“Do you mean that literally or figuratively?” I laugh a little, but he doesn’t join in.

“Both. I’m in charge of your training, so you have nothing to worry about.” He looks over and flashes me a big, cheesy grin.

“Sounds exciting.” I say this with a complete lack of enthusiasm.

He reaches over and pokes me on the leg. “Be careful. I’m your trainer now, so you don’t want to piss me off.”

“Oh my, that sounds like a threat. Let me check my pulse.” I make a big show of resting my fingers at my wrist. “Hmmm, nope. Sorry. Not scared.”

“You will be. I promise.”

I know he’s joking, but it sends a special thrill up my spine to hear him say that. I like it when he goes from joking to serious. It makes him seem almost a little dangerous, and although I’m kind of allergic to real danger, the sexy danger is something I could get used to.

We travel along in companionable silence, listening to the radio and enjoying the cooling temperature that allows us to drive with the windows open for a change. When Boys Don’t Cry, one of my favorite songs from the eighties, blares from the speakers, Dev and I start singing together. At the chorus, we raise our voices louder and louder. By the time we pull into the restaurant parking lot, we’re practically yelling the last lines of the song. Happy brain hormone-drugs are pumping through my veins as he glides into a parking spot near the front doors and shuts off the engine.

“You ready to get your catfish on?” he asks.

I look up at the sign above us. “The sign says Chicken Licken. I think I’m supposed to be getting my chicken on.” I am definitely overdressed for this eatery, but I don’t care, because so is he. It’s like I’m on an adventure right now, and anything could happen. Fun stuff. Sexy stuff, maybe. Woo hoo! Bring on the catfish!

“Stay right there.” He opens his door and gets out, shuts it, and then jogs around to my side. My door opens and he’s standing there with his hand out. I slide my palm into his and use the contact to lever myself out of the car. I feel like a princess. A princess standing outside of Chicken Licken, the fried food capital of New Orleans, if the smell is any indicator.