"Thank you. This is really nice."
"You're welcome." He flashed his devastating smile over his shoulder, as he leaned to pick up his drink.
"How do you know about...." She raised her cup.
Newton shrugged. "I pay attention to the women in my life."
Eilene was so flattered, she blushed, ducking her head. Newton leaned over, peering up at her from a contorted position.
"You okay there, Stafford?"
"Yeah. Thanks―again."
"My pleasure." He took a bite, chewed and swallowed. He was eating a bagel sandwich with great gusto. "One thing I missed when I was deployed, bagels and walnut cream cheese."
"The Army doesn't do bagels?"
"Not like these. Fresh from the Geiger Bakery. They make their own cream cheese blends. Best in the city."
Which meant he'd gone out of his way for her coffee, because the shop that she favored, was nowhere near the bakery.
"This was really thoughtful of you. Can I pay you?"
"Absolutely not." He gathered the trash and both plates, heading to the kitchen. He washed the dishes, putting them in the drying rack.
"I should keep you around. Are you always so neat?"
Newton flashed his sexy, disarming smile. "Yeah. Military father, military myself. I'm very tidy, because leaving a mess, meant KP duty."
"The Army really does that?"
"What Army? That was at home!" he chuckled.
They gathered their gear and headed out to his car.
"I appreciate the ride today, and last night."
"You're welcome. I don't live far from you. If you ever want to carpool, holler."
"Will do. Thanks. My car is kind of a tank."
"A 1968, white, Buick Riviera. You get what, about ten miles per gallon?"
"How do you know that?"
"I told you. I pay attention." He backed quickly into the street and took off with care. "Any kids in the neighborhood?"
"A few. Most are at school. Why?"
"Cautious. I hate residential streets. Too unpredictable."
"This is a nice, quiet neighborhood. I lived in that house, there, from the time I was thirteen." She pointed to a yellow and pink house, circa 1930.
"Your folks are on the same street? Cool."
"No." She glared out the window to her right.
"Sorry. I've said something wrong."
"Do you know why I transferred to SWAT?"
"No."
"My parents were victims of the violence in the War Zone. They ran a soup kitchen down there. Rioters broke in and killed them. Torched the store."
"That's horrible. I'm so sorry."
"Sorry doesn't bring them back," she snapped, glaring at him.
"No. But it lets you know someone cares."
"Anyone can say it."
"Not everyone means it." He drove in silence a few minutes. "How long were you a cop before SWAT?"
"Seven years."
"Wow, you came up fast. Top of your class, fast tracked for sergeant. First female sergeant in SWAT."
"How do you know all that, Newton?"
He shrugged, taking the on ramp to the interstate very quickly. He merged into traffic so fast, it made her skin crawl.
"I pay attention."
"It's a little creepy."
"Sorry. Does it help knowing that Ferge likes his beer with salt, and Pope eats pork rinds with ketchup?"
"Really? Ew!"
"I watch, pay attention, observe. One thing my old man drummed into me from the time I was three―situational awareness. Watch your environment, and the people in it. The Army honed it for me. Over thirty years of that, it's habitual, I can't turn it off. It's saved my ass more than once."
"You're always aware?" She found it hard to believe.
"Well, not in my sleep," he stated the obvious with a twitch of his lips.
"What about when you're having sex? Difficult to be situationally aware then."
©2021 Dellani Oakes
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