“Do you mind if I sit down?” he asks.
I hitch a shoulder like I don’t care what he does. That’s not true. I care way too much about what he’s done and what he’ll do. He pulls out one of the chairs at the rickety dining set and sits. It barely accommodates him. His gaze flickers to my open laptop, then away, like he doesn’t want to pry even accidentally. I stay where I am more out of shock than nerves. I’m still not over his arrival. His presence is a cold dash of water to my senses. I’m blank and sputtering to make sense of it.
“Why didn’t you tell Cora about me?”
It’s his turn to appear nonchalant with a jerk of his shoulder. “The agency wouldn’t help you if I did.”
His sister might see what he did for me as a betrayal. He’s stepping way outside his comfort zone for me. I don’t know what to make of that. No one’s ever done something like this for me. I can’t help but wonder what he expects to get in return.
“What do you want?” I have to ask.
“To help you.”
“Why?”
He tilts his head to the side, studying me. It’s that same look he had when I first met him. I’m an enigma, something for him to puzzle out. “I have a feeling life hasn’t been generous to you. It sure as shit hasn’t been generous to me.”
I shake my head.
“Maybe it’s time it was,” he says.
“And you’re the one to deliver it?”
“Why not? I’m not doing anything else worthwhile with my life.”
“That’s a cop-out.”
“No, it’s a fact.”
I can see it is. “So I’m your new what? Hobby? Charity case?”
“I’m not charitable and I don’t have any hobbies.”
Why? is a scream in my head. I shake it off. Maybe he doesn’t understand what he’s doing here any more than I do. If I question him about it too much he might just decide I’m not worth the trouble and walk away. Now that he’s here, I don’t want him to leave, I realize. I’ve never had a partner in anything. I’m not sure what to do with him. He’s big and commanding and watching me, gauging my reaction to him.
“Okay,” I say on a sigh, sliding my skirt up with my gun and slipping it into my thigh holster.
A corner of his lips tilts up as he tracks my movements. The gleam of male appreciation flashes in his eyes. Seeing it doesn’t freak me out, and I marvel again at the contradiction this guy brings out in me. He thinks I’m sexy and I like it.
“Have you eaten?” he asks.
“No.”
“There’s a diner a block down.”
Is he asking me out? Lips parting, I blink at him, uncertain of what I should do.
“You have to eat sometime.”
I bob my head. It’s all I can manage. He slowly gets to his feet, his gaze on mine, and gestures to the door. I put my coat on and grab my purse, eyeing him all the while. He gives me lots of room, slipping out sideways through the door I hold open. He waits a respectable distance away as I close the door and check to make sure it’s locked. We walk side by side down the street. He never once accidentally brushes against me or makes any effort to touch me.
He holds the door to the diner open for me and follows me in. A tired-looking waitress tells us to sit anywhere we want to. This time of night the place is empty, and Beau lets me choose our table. He slides in across from me and reaches for the menus tucked behind the napkin holder. He hands one to me, then opens his and looks it over. I do the same. I calculate in my head how much money I have and how long it will last me. I hadn’t planned on eating out, so this little extravagance is going to cost me. Selecting the cheapest sandwich, I close my menu and try to reassure myself that this one time won’t make that much of a difference. If I eat only half the sandwich I can save the other half for lunch tomorrow.
Beau sets his menu aside. “When was the last time you saw your sister?”
“In person? I don’t remember, exactly. We were in the same foster home for a while before we were separated forever. I was maybe six or seven. I’m not sure.”
“She’s lucky to have you. I know what it’s like to have a sister who would do anything for me.”
It all suddenly becomes clear. “Cora’s the reason you were freed.”
“Yeah. Her and her boyfriend and his father, Mr. Nash, who owns the agency. She somehow talked them into helping her help me.”
“So I’m a pay-it-forward project?”
“Yes and no. I have my own reasons for helping you.”
“Because you’re not doing anything else worthwhile with your life.” I toss his words back at him.
“There are other reasons besides that, but that’s also part of it.”
He’s not going to crack, so I change the subject. “How long have you worked at the agency?”
“Since this morning.”
“But you have investigative experience, right?”
“Nope.”
“And you’re going to help me how?”
His laugh is quiet and deep. It has an unused edge to it that makes it slightly awkward. And sexy. “I’m not exactly sure about that.”