Page 15 of Those Who Are Bound

“You are. I take it black.” He slid on his sunglasses.

She made a sound of reluctance that he laughed at, poured out a cup, and handed it up to him. After securing the remaining coffee, she lifted herself into the vehicle. “Okay, where are we going?”

“Like I said, it’s an easy trail, and short. Have you ever been to Weston Bend State Park?” He started the vehicle.

Elliott shook her head as she sipped her coffee. “No, but I’ve been by it, on the way to the ski and tubing park. Isn’t that about an hour away?”

“Thirty minutes, maybe,” he allowed.

She asked mischievously, “So, I can take a nap?”

He laughed. “Your coffee will get cold.” He backed out, using the dashboard screen. When they had cleared the building, he shifted into drive.

A wave of awkwardness washed over her as they left Easy Street and headed toward the highway. What the hell was she going to talk about for half an hour with this guy? There wasn’t anything remotely interesting about her. As she struggled to come up with something amusing to say, she realized her brain had taken a hiatus.

Seriously, now?

She brought the coffee cup to her lips as though she was pouring in life’s blood… or brain cells. She was not going to ask about the weather.

“When did you start boxing?”

Elliott was grateful for the question because it broke the tension, but it was a double-edged answer. Her mind flew over the possible responses, and she realized she was more interesting than the average person—toointeresting. She decided to stick with as bland an answer as she could. “A couple of years ago. A family friend had the bag hung for me; he said I needed to channel my anger.”

Jonah glanced over at her. “Your anger?”

Elliott stared out the window. “It was right after my brother died.” Before he could travel down that path, she forced out a lighter tone. “I fell in love with it immediately. I mean, not only did it help then, but it’s a great workout. It’s just you and the bag and your skill; I become my own competitor, and I have to say, I’m a challenge.”She chuckled in a self-deprecating manner. “But also, being on my own out there now… well, it doesn’t hurt to have a little more in my arsenal.”

“I think I almost experienced what you had in your arsenal yesterday when I chased you down.” They smiled at one another. “What kind of security do you have?”

“Cameras; there’s an alarm system for the event hall and storage areas,” she answered.

He frowned at the road. “What about you, personally?”

She grinned. “I have a SIG Sauer. My dad and my brother were military; our… family friend is a cop. So, I grew up with guns. I have a rifle, too; I’m a better shot with it, but I keep the SIG close at night.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Why, Mr. Montgomery, are you making assumptions again?”

He raised one hand in surrender. “I’m leaving that one alone.”

Elliott turned to the passenger window, surprised by the rush of giddiness. She felt like a schoolgirl with a crush. Yesterday, she was certain he was a cad, and now here she was, completely smitten and hoping hewasmaking assumptions. Of course, was it an assumption if it was a foregone conclusion as far as she was concerned? He could pull the Jeep over, say the hike be damned, and take her here in the car, and she’d be fine with that. An involuntary sound escaped her at the thought.

“Are you okay?”

“Yep,” she chirped back. Good lord, she never chirped. Giving her head a small shake, she looked back at him and asked, “What about your job?”

“I have a job.”

“One that lets you take off at a moment’s notice and go hiking in the morning?”

“Yes.”

Elliott leaned forward to catch his eye. “Yes? Is it a secret? You know what I do for a living.”

“It’s not a secret. I own an outdoor adventure store. It’s in Parkville. So yes, I have the type of job where I can take off at a moment’s notice and go hiking in the morning.” His glance her way lasted only a second. “You could have Googled me last night, too, and the shop would have popped up.”

“You said to save the questions for the trail.” Sitting back, she shrugged. “So, you own TrekGear.”

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