Newton cut across from the outside lane to the right, for an exit. "I drove convoy a lot. Why? Don't like my driving?" He flashed a dazzling smile, which was set off by his darker complexion.
Half Japanese, half Jewish, he was an exotic mix of both, with black dark hair and the darkest brown eyes she'd ever seen. The effect nearly took Eilene's breath away. As tired as she was, she didn't trust herself to answer.
"Relax, Sergeant. You're in the best of hands. You okay, Boss?" he glanced at Canon in the mirror.
"Super cool. Make a right at the stop sign."
"You got it."
"Third house on the left."
Newton slowed, turning into the driveway in front of a cozy brick house.
"Thanks, Newton. You know your way from here?" He got out, laptop under his arm.
"Yes, sir. If I get lost, Stafford will set me straight."
"See you tomorrow." He tapped the top of the car.
Newton waited until the lieutenant was inside, and a light clicked on.
"Next stop, your place." He flashed another dazzling grin.
"How do you know where I live?"
"Desk sergeant told me. Is it a problem?"
"Not at all. I knew I hadn't told you."
They got back on the interstate. The traffic was even worse, with cars and trucks flying by at 90. Again, Newton drove like he was impervious, passing even the fastest cars.
"You always drive this fast?" Eilene clung to the door, steadying herself on the edge of her seat.
"Yeah. Sorry. A convoy goes at speed, no stopping. Snarls like that are annoying and dangerous."
Stafford couldn't disagree with him. "You aren't afraid of a ticket?'
"Na―I was highway patrol before I put in for SWAT. I worked with them for three years." He shrugged casually. "You gotta relax, Sarge."
"Been a long day."
He did another fast lane change, this time to take a left exit. The road dipped suddenly, heading to a tunnel. Eilene, who usually took the bridge, grabbed the seat tighter, hitting an imaginary brake with her right foot. Newton laughed loudly at her antics.
"I'm sorry. I'm scaring the piss out of you."
"Yeah," she gasped.
"Less traffic this time of night. I like being underground. It feels safer."
"You sure you don't have PTSD, or something?"
"No. But I don't like crowds or wide open spaces. I feel vulnerable."
"You're a SWAT cop. Sort of synonymous with vulnerable."
"Not when I have you to ride shotgun." He grinned again, his dark eyes twinkling in the streetlights.
They pulled into her one car, brick lined driveway and he put the car in park. Newton trotted around to open her door.
"I'm sorry if I scared you. Not my intention."
"I'll live." She smiled up at him. "Thanks for the ride."
"My pleasure," he said, his voice holding subtle undertones. Taking a step back, he gave her a hand out.
She wasn't going to take it, feeling she needed to assert herself, but she was exhausted. The idea of pulling herself out of the car was almost too much. She took his hand. It closed over hers, his hand warm and strong. Was it possible for a man to have muscular, sexy hands? Was that a thing? If it was, Newton had them in spades.
Taking another step back, he lost his balance on a loose brick lining the narrow concrete strip. With a whoop, he toppled over, landing on the grass, Eilene on top of him. Laughing and cursing, he held her waist. Eilene lay, slightly stunned, feeling his firm body under hers.
"You okay?" Newton chuckled, bottomless dark eyes twinkling in the light of the street lamps.
"You sure know how to make an impression, Newton." She didn't sound very happy. Struggling to get up, she moved a little abruptly.
"Ouch." Newton flinched.
"Are you hurt?" she examined his body, her hands moving rapidly over his body.
"Only my pride. Um-ah―" He inhaled sharply as her hands patted him down. "Sarge. Eilene." He grabbed her hands, stopping the increasingly intimate search. "I'm fine."
It took a second, but Eilene felt something firm, and it wasn't his utility belt. Hopping up, she almost collided with the door, stepped aside to avoid it, and tripped over Newton. Sprawling on the ground, she giggled loudly. Newton flopped on his back, his laugh joining hers.
"What a pair we make," he chuckled. "Klutz and Klutzier."
"I'm only a klutz because of you," she tried to fill her voice with wounded pride, but she couldn't stop giggling.
"You klutzed out, because you damn near gave me a hand job." He laughed, rolling to his side, facing her. Dodging her fist, he protected the goods, in case she felt like doing something less fun
"Oh, you! I did not!" She punched his shoulder.
©2021 Dellani Oakes
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