“Not long,” she said without thinking. I am totally unprepared for this. She’d planned on doing laundry in the evening, packing methodically, leaving in the morning after a good sleep. “How long will it take you to get your truck and get back here? And you have to pack too.”
“I’m a guy,” he said. “Packing takes me a few minutes, tops. I can be back here in forty, if that works for you?”
“You bet.” She’d be on the front step waiting when he arrived if it killed her. Do I even have clean pajamas? “I’ll be ready.”
His truck was gorgeous. Nicer than the bike, even. She hadn’t been expecting cherry red, especially after the bike had surprised her by being such a subtle silver and black. It was a fully tricked-out Chevy Silverado 1500 High Country, and as he opened the door, she could see leather seats.
Getting up from the front steps of her building where she’d been sitting, Nell hoisted her travel bag onto her shoulder and walked slowly down to the curb. By the time she reached the truck, Eamonn had gotten out and was waiting for her next to the passenger door. “Bet this thing eats a lot of gas,” she blurted out. It was rude, and not at all what she’d meant to say, but she was feeling discombobulated from having packed in a hurry, and slightly angry with herself for liking his toys so much.
“It’s not too bad,” he said mildly, and she wondered if he’d ever had to worry about gas prices. Rock star. But then he gave her a half-smile and added, “It’s not a full hybrid, but it has e-assist, so that helps a fair bit.”
“It’s a lovely color,” she said, wishing she’d just said that to begin with.
“Thanks, babe.” He took her bag and tossed it onto the second row of seats — the truck was a big crew cab style with four doors and seats enough to fit all of Smidge plus a girlfriend or two — then offered her a steadying hand for the step up into the passenger seat. “Let’s get on the road.”
Nell ignored his hand and hauled herself up into the high seat on her own. Don’t call me babe, she thought grumpily. But she bit her tongue on the thought — no sense starting an argument when they’d be stuck in the vehicle for the next four or more hours. As she settled into her seat and buckled up, he closed the door and went around to the driver’s side.
The Silverado’s cab could sit three across, but the middle seat was folded down to provide a console with cupholders. Good, a bulwark between us. The motorcycle ride had been more than enough coziness between them, and Nell didn’t want any more of it. Once Eamonn was in the truck and buckled, he leaned over and pointed to something on the dash. “Here’s the AC, feel free to adjust it to whatever’s comfortable for you. If the night gets cold later, there’s a heated seat switch there. It’s a long way, so let me know if there’s anything you need, like a pit stop or food, right?” He started up the truck and pulled out smoothly onto the road. “I’m going to go through the Starbucks drive-thru on our way out of here — coffee goes with highway driving for me. Want anything?”
“I can get my own.”
“Just let me get you a coffee, all right? It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Yeah, no, because I don’t drink coffee.”
Eamonn laughed, a full-throated genuine laugh. “Figures. Green tea latte? Chai? I’m guessing you’re a green tea kind of girl.”
Because she liked both, and because she just plain didn’t want him to be right about her, she said, “Chai. Half sweet, with coconut milk. And I’m a woman, not a girl.”
He laughed even more. “Oh, you’re all woman, that’s for sure.” Damn, I walked into that one. But she hated being called a girl. “Okay, complicated-drink woman, I’ll get your half-sweet coconut milk chai. Now, what about music?”
They stopped for dinner at a pub in Wenatchee around half past seven, just over two hours after they’d set out. They were making good time and Nell suspected Eamonn wasn’t sticking to the speed limit, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her peering at the speedometer so she deliberately kept her eyes averted. He was a smooth driver, in any case, and the big truck ate up the miles like they were nothing. “I’m good to keep going,” he’d said when they reached the outskirts of Wenatchee, but Nell reminded him they didn’t know what they’d find in the smaller towns ahead and pointed out that the kitchen at Champagne wouldn’t still be doing dinner after nine, even if he wanted to wait another two hours or more to eat. “All right,” he’d agreed, “but let’s get a proper meal if we’re stopping. Not shitty road food.”
Nell wasn’t sure if they’d agree on what constituted a proper meal, but he pulled into a parking lot next to a pub and turned to her with raised eyebrows as if to ask, will this do?
“We only get ten dollars a day in travel allowance,” she reminded him.
He shrugged. “Yeah, they expect us to eat Mickey D’s. I’m okay with covering the extra.”
“I can afford my own dinner. I’m not broke. It’s just… natural caution, I suppose.”
“You always color inside the lines?”
I draw my own lines, she wanted to say. My life isn’t a coloring book. But he was right. She recognized in herself a tendency to follow rules, to stay where things were clearly black and white, no mess or blurring of what was expected. The structure and hierarchy of martial arts never left room for doubt, and she’d been living within it for most of her life. Even her own rules for herself… She smiled ruefully. “Pub night is Sunday. It’s not Sunday today.”
“Well, let’s pretend.”
