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For a shirt, she had on a simple v-neck white tee that, like her pants, framed her body without hugging it the way her usual clothes were known to do.
She had on her cross, but nothing else. Nothing at her ears or wrists. Or, well, fingers. Since her fake engagement ring was floating in a glass on the kitchen counter.
Perhaps the most shocking, though, wasn’t the clothes at all.
But what was above her neck.
Her hair, normally pulled back for convenience during her long work shifts, was left loose around her shoulders, the gleaming red waves framing a face made younger and more vulnerable without any mascara to darken her naturally light lashes, or filler in her brows, or liner on her water line, or color to her lips.
This wasn’t Jules the executive assistant slash office manager slash personal assistant slash zoo keeper that she was when we always got to see her.
This was simply Jules.
And, amazingly enough, because I didn’t think such a thing was possible, she was even more beautiful than usual.
“You got me a salad?” she asked, brows drawing together.
“You keep next to nothing in your fridge,” I informed her, something new I had learned about her while making her coffee.
“I would claim it was because I was planning to leave for vacation, so I had emptied out. But I honestly don’t keep much more than that in there on a regular basis.”
“You’re always at work,” I said, understanding. My fridge was usually only full of takeout containers, condiments, and drinks.
“Exactly,” she agreed, moving past me toward the kitchen, taking a drink of her cold coffee. “Maybe we should put it in the fridge,” she suggested, reaching into the bag to pull out the containers, going into mine to pick the croutons out, placing them in a baggie before putting the salads themselves into the fridge. “I think it would be smart to get to Gary’s place sooner rather than later. It’s a long shot, but maybe we would catch him even. Before he skips town.”
Not wanting to crush her hopes, I said nothing even though I knew there was no way he had taken the money then stuck around. Not when she was expecting him at an altar. Knowing she would come looking for him. If I knew anything about this – and I did – he had likely already hit the road. Not even stopping back at his apartment for whatever he had left behind.
“Alright,” I agreed. “Let’s go check it out.”
“I’ve never been in your car before,” she commented, tone a little hollow as we rode the elevator down.
“I’ve never been in yours either.”
“Is it like your office?” she asked, choosing the words carefully.
“You mean a wreck?”
“That’s what I meant,” she agreed, giving me a small smile. It didn’t come close to meeting her eyes.
“See for yourself,” I invited as we walked up next to my tan Jeep, something I had chosen because it was roomy if I needed to catch a nap while on the road.
A glamorous life it was not, but I had always been able to sleep anywhere.
I bleeped the locks, and Jules went for her door, but not quite before my hand got there first, making her jump back.
She’d gotten too used to that fake fiancé of hers not opening things for her.
“Well, this is surprising,” she decided, looking around inside before pulling herself up.
When on a long job, my car was every bit as hectic as my office. But once a job was over, it got cleared out, hit the wash for an exterior and interior detailing.
It was less because I was obsessive about it and more because old food wrappers brought bugs. And, while I could sleep a lot of ways, with things crawling on me was a hard no.
“Point me in a direction,” I demanded as I turned the car over, stifling the inappropriate surging of happiness inside at seeing her in my car. Such a small thing, but also something like a milestone as well.
Jules, for me, had invaded one part of my life in a physical way.
Work.
That was it.
She had never been in my car, my place, had never come out to eat with me, for drinks, movies, nothing. She was the only person in the office I hadn’t spent time with outside of work. And, of course, the one I wanted to with most.
That being said, I didn’t like the circumstances. I didn’t like that she sort of had to be in my car, that she was here because she needed my help, not because she actually wanted to be.
She steered me straight out of Navesink Bank, twenty minutes south to Eastontown to a large, winding complex of red brick apartment buildings of simple up or down units, not full floors. The grounds were bright green even during a crippling heat wave and subsequent drought. A set of little girls were riding baby bikes down one of the many paths as their mother watered her window boxes.
