Page 36 of Good Enough

Pulling up to her house the next morning, he perused the street and noticed its isolation at this hour of the morning, so early that it was still dark. Getting out of the truck, he saw Kubrick exiting her front door with a duffle bag and her Backpack of Death. He jogged up the walk as she was locking the door. “Good morning, Sunshine!”

She scowled at him.

He looked at her two bags. “This is it?”

She blinked at him grumpily. “I travel light. Leggings and a few shirts don’t take up a lot of room. Don’t need boots where I’m going, so two pairs of running shoes, a light jacket, a hoodie, and my Dodgers hat. Add bug repellant, sunscreen, deodorant, body wash, toothbrush, toothpaste, and a brush; what else would I need? Plus, it’s not like I’m going out clubbing while in Roatán.”

Clubbing? Ugh. Did not need that image in my head. I’d be beating up guys left and right.

He cleared his throat. “Just figured you’d have a lot more bags since you’ll be gone for almost three months.” He looked at the duffle bag. “No designer luggage?”

She rolled her eyes. “Not my style. Not a big designer girl. Shit just gets damaged, and then it costs thousands to replace. Swiss Army”—she patted her backpack—“works just fine.”

He shook his head as he grabbed her bags. “You sure don’t fit the Hollywood mode, Kubrick.”

“Nope. And damn glad. Way too fake.” She yawned. “Way too damn early for this bullshit.”

He opened the passenger side door for her. “C’mon, Cranky. Hop in.” She flipped him off, to which he responded with a big grin of amusement. “There’s a present for you in the truck,” he offered, as if he were trying to lure her into the vehicle.

Opening his own door, he placed her bags behind his seat. When he slid in, he saw her looking at the extra-large thermal coffee cup in the holder of her seat like it was a mirage. “Two days in a row? I might get ideas.”

“Seriously? Just drink it, Kubrick.”

She sighed in resignation and popped the lid. “Is this from Alice’s?”

“Not only is it from Alice’s, but it’s three of them. She saw me pull up and let me in to get it for you. I told her you needed your Crankiness Bomb, nuclear style. Thought she was going to hurt herself from laughing. Said that she was going to put them on the new menu with that size name just for you. So start drinking. Can’t have you tongue-lashing the crew and other passengers with your awful morning personality.”

Her tongue pushed through her lips at him, eyes scrunching up.

Staring at her lips, he huskily reminded her, “Rule six.”

He swore she lost color at his words.

That’ll shut her up.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he pulled the truck away from the curb. Lips pursed, blowing air on the liquid through the top hole, she sipped the hot chocolate laced with peppermint extract, and her eyes, honest to God, rolled back into her head. She even moaned. Awkwardly, he shifted in his seat, trying to adjust himself.

Shit. I’ll buy her ten a day if that’s the reaction she’s going to have.

“Thank you. This was nice of you.”

“You’re welcome. You thought yesterday’s Valentine’s Day surprise was an aberration?”

Shrugging, she took another sip. “I figured one of the runners got it and passed it to you for me. They’re always looking for reasons to talk to you. Perfect opening.”

“No other women, Kubrick.”

She side-eyed him. “Could have been Christoff and not one of the women.”

He groaned, and then she was giggling.

“I love watching your face when he comes up to you with something. He’s got it bad.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“He told me since you’re retired military, he wanted to see your gun.’”

“What did I just say to you? Am I talking to myself in this truck?”

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