Page 81 of Crash Course
Yeah. He’d be a fool to leave. She hadn’t said it. Probably wouldn’t.
"There are other considerations, though."
He blew out a breath. Relief maybe. He wasn’t sure. "Like what?"
"Well, there’s the part about your mother rearranging and your brothers always being around with their girlfriends. I see how that might be hard sometimes. I haven’t had roommates since college and coming home after a tough day to a quiet house isn’t awful. Most of the time."
Most of the time. Was there a hidden message there? Something she didn’t want to admit. Maybe like how insanely lonely and boring it was?
Because, yeah, that too scared him. What it would be like, sitting by himself with no one to harass or mouth off to. No door to knock on when he wanted to talk sports or bitch about a client.
He’d never—including college—lived alone and he couldn’t wrap his mind around that kind of change.
Still driving, Cruz tapped a finger against the steering wheel and kept his eyes on the pitch blackness in front of him. Sometimes, it was weird. Like driving into a black hole, but most of the time? Pretty cool. "You don’t get lonely?"
There. Said it. Put it right out there.
And she hadn’t laughed at him. Or called him soft.
"Everyone gets lonely, Cruz. It’s life. I manage it. I call a friend or meet someone for drinks."
Didn’t that get his mind motoring. He imagined there was no shortage of men, him included, willing to meet her somewhere.
The thought made his stomach pitch. He’d never been a jealous sort. Never cared all that much.
Until now.
He stole a quick glance at her. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Absolutely."
"Do you date a lot?"
"No. When I told you I was busy, I wasn’t lying. I don’t have the time or patience for dating. Throw my father into the mix and it’s a . . . chore. Half the men want access to Darren Randolph, the other half are intimidated. There’s no middle ground. Not that I’ve found, anyway."
He got that. Understood how power-hungry hustlers might use Cilla as a steppingstone to meet one of the country’s most powerful business executives.
"Just so you know," he said. "I don’t give a shit about access and I’m sure as hell not intimidated by him."
He pulled to a stop in the middle of the grass. Behind them, off in the distance, barely visible lights from the Friary glowed.
Cilla glanced out the windshield, then her window. "Um, why are we stopping?"
"We’re here."
"Where?"
He shrugged. "Nowhere. That’s the point."
When she rolled her bottom lip out and stared at him like he’d lost his mind, he laughed. City girls.
After killing the engine, he slid from the truck and hustled to open her door. "Come on, city girl. It’ll be worth it. I promise."
Grabbing his hand, she hopped down and walked with him to the back of the truck where he lowered the tailgate and climbed into the bed. He unrolled a rubber pad and comforter he kept stowed in the bed’s storage trunk.
"Welcome to the Chez Blackwell light show."
Clearly confused, she didn’t move. "Come again."
