“Gathering data,” Carlos said blandly.
“Gathering data, he says,” Ken muttere
d. “All right. This data wouldn’t happen to work at Oliver’s, would it?”
“None of your business.”
Ken grinned, not put off for a second by Carlos’ threatening tone. “Sure it isn’t. I’ll just be over here spectating, then.”
Carlos had to roll his eyes. Ken was mellower these days than he had been back in the Marines, more mature, but he still had that irreverent spirit. Probably he’d have it even when he was ninety.
His phone buzzed. Pauline was asking, Can you meet me at Oliver’s after my shift? I work until 3 today.
See you there. I promise I’ll do whatever I can to help, he texted back.
He stared down at the words after he sent them. That was the sort of thing a person should never say in the business world. An open-ended promise to do whatever he could? That would just open you up for exploitation. And in a situation where he didn’t even know what he was committing to—it was downright stupid.
But he didn’t regret it. He didn’t feel a single hint of worry about what Pauline might be asking him to do. If it was something she thought was important, he trusted that it was something that needed to get done.
He’d never felt this certain about another person in his life.
And it was starting to wake up a tiny, niggling suspicion in his mind.
***
Pauline
Carlos, good as his word, was at Oliver’s by 2:30, sipping coffee in a booth and giving Pauline a reassuring smile when she glanced nervously over. For once, he wasn’t wearing a fancy suit: he’d managed to dig up jeans and a plaid shirt from somewhere.
It made him look less imposing, but no less attractive—it was a lot easier to imagine getting her hands inside that shirt than one of his crisp, expensive suit jackets.
Pauline didn’t want to draw him into her problems. She wanted to keep him a fun, exciting fantasy, sexy and rich and somehow interested in her.
But really, even their date hadn’t been like a fantasy at all. It had been lovely, and outside of her normal activities for sure, but...they’d talked about real, serious things. Carlos had wanted to know about her life, her problems, and had told her some about his own in return.
Maybe he wouldn’t mind getting involved with this.
Pauline shook her head at herself. She minded being involved in this, and she was the one who’d made the choice. Of course he would mind.
She just hoped he’d help anyway. Because this was more important than any fantasy could be.
Finally, after what seemed like ten years, her shift was over. She came over and slid into the booth across from Carlos. She desperately wanted to lean in for a kiss, or to sit on the same side as him, lean into his warmth, but her coworkers were already giving her looks, and she didn’t want to start any rumors when Carlos was going to leave town soon.
He was giving her the calmest, warmest smile. “So, what’s up?”
Pauline took a deep breath and said, “My cousins are in trouble.”
She explained about Marsha’s ongoing problems holding down a job or being there for her kids, and finally her apparent disappearance. Pauline’s own worries about what might happen to the kids if they went into foster care—and now the sudden appearance of even greater worries about what might happen if they carried on like this. What she’d seen last night.
Carlos’ expression became graver and graver as she spoke. As she was finishing, he reached across the table and took her hand.
Pauline hesitated, but—to hell with rumors. She closed her hand around his, feeling his warmth soaking into her chilly fingers.
“And you haven’t told anyone else about this?” Carlos asked her quietly. “You’re all by yourself?”
“I’ve asked quite a few people if they’ve seen Marsha,” Pauline defended herself. “That’s why I was over at the house the other day, talking to Stella and Lynn and asking them to keep an eye out.”
“I wasn’t criticizing,” he said quietly. “It just seems like a lot, to take on yourself.”