"Well, first of all I thought you would live in a condo or town house."
He jabbed a thumb toward the scarred piano. "Can't jam in an apartment without the neighbors griping."
"Good point."
"And second of all?"
"What?"
"You said first of all, which implies there's a second."
"Oh, I guess I expected more of a bachelor pad."
"Lava lamps and a trapeze strung from the ceiling?" A fun fantasy image, but not his style. Besides, he had something different in mind for them later.
"A trapeze?"
She skimmed a finger along the ivory keyboard without making a sound. "Actually, I imagined a flashier decor, but I should have remembered this whole year has been about learning to look below the surface."
"I believe you just complimented me."
"I did. With all your talk about cool toys, I thought you would drive some brand-new sports car." She sat on the edge of the piano bench, and he thought how strange it was that they were alone in a room and had touched less than they would with a houseful of people around.
"Hey, a Jeep's cool." Damn it all, he was a man comfortable in his skin. Her approval of his lifestyle shouldn't be important.
"Especially one you rebuilt yourself."
Now she sure was full of surprises today. "How'd you know that?"
"Good guess."
He wasn't sure how he felt about her dissecting his personality and surroundings. After years in a communal-style orphanage setting, he valued his privacy.
Jesus. She just wanted to talk about his Jeep. He needed to lighten up.
Shoving away from the couch, he joined her on the piano bench just to prove to himself he could stay in control. "I saw Tag working on his truck at the base auto-hobby shop and asked him to teach me about car maintenance.... I may like my toys, but I grew up too poor not to appreciate the value of a good bargain. And if you like my rebuilt engine, then you're gonna go wild over my used jet ski bought at an estate auction.">Was she shutting out the place? Or simply sleeping? He started to question his insistence that she come back to Charleston. Damned arrogant of him, and if he'd screwed up, she would pay the price.
The way Tag and the other crew had taken extra hits when his recklessness cost him broken hands and made him a liability during their capture.
He glanced at her quickly. "You don't have to do this."
Her lashes fluttered open for a quick peek his way. "Now aren't you changing your tune?"
"I want you to do this for you, not because I'm a pushy bastard."
Her eyes closed again as she reached to touch his arm. "I am doing this for me. Call me selfish, but this whole trip is about taking control of my life."
She skimmed a finger in a scorching path down his forearm before her hand fell to her lap again.
Well, hell. No mistaking that. How long until they could find a bed?
He navigated the Jeep through a maze of narrow one-way streets lined with squat palmetto trees until he pulled up outside a three-story bank. He backed the Jeep into the tight curbside parking. "Are you ready?"
She rolled her eyes, oak branches rustling overhead, horns honking. "Hell no, but it needs to be done."
"Last chance to make a break for it."
"My running shoes are packed away." She reached for the door. "Let's get this over with."