* * * *
“I’m gonna need more details, Rhodes,” Monroe says from my passenger seat, arms crossed like she’s seconds away from demanding I turn the car around. I wouldn’t. She’s effectively kidnapped now. She hasn’t stopped scowling since I picked her up, and I’m dying to get her to smile at me.
“Coffee order, sweetheart.” I tap her thigh to get her attention as I pull into the coffee shop drive-through. I know I’m not the only one affected by the friction between our skin, because her leg erupts in tiny goosebumps. There is a self-satisfied feeling in my chest at the idea of her being as attracted to me as I am to her.
“What can I get you?” A tinny voice crackles through the speaker.
“Grande dirty chai, hot,” I say, barely finishing before Monroe snorts. I shoot her a glare.
“I had you pegged as a black coffee guy.” Her lips quirk up. It’s so close to the smile I want.
“I do have a soul, Abrams. Your order, please.”
“Iced Americano with vanilla and oat milk,” she says evenly. I relay the order, pull forward, and give her a look.
“Iced in January?”
She shrugs. “Hot coffee is disgusting.”Noted. Don’t bring Monroe hot coffee.I make a mental note of her order and store that information away for later. Did I haveulterior motives for bringing her with me to order a drink today? Maybe. I am desperate for as many Monroe-facts as I can get.
I hand over my credit card, grab our drinks, and slide hers toward her.
“Thank you,” she says quietly. “Now will you tell me where we’re going?” she asks as she takes a sip, lips wrapping around the green straw.
“Hartford Senior Center,” I say casually.
She chokes on her drink.
“Oh—” She coughs, wiping her mouth. “I’m sorry, I thought you were joking about pickleball with old people.”
“I volunteer there a few times a month, help their sports activity committee out. The team is a donor, so I like to go do more than just throw money at them. Plus, it’s fun and way more physical than you think it’s going to be. Totally counts as my workout for the day.” I flex my arms again just for good measure. She snorts.
“That’s really great.” She seems sincere in her reply. “It also seems very on-brand for you to actually go and play with them.”
“Oh yeah? It doesn’t surprise you?”
“Not really. You’re a nice guy, Rhodes. Maybe a little quick to the punch when people piss you off, but maybe people should just piss you off less.” She’s teasing me, and it’s a refreshing change from her usual snarkiness—though I like that version of Monroe, too.
I park the car, cut the engine, and turn to face her. “I’m not always nice,” I say. Getting friend-zoned is the last thing I want to happen here, and suddenly I fear I’m treading dangerously close to it.
She just rolls her eyes. “Okay, tough guy. Let’s go.”
I let it go for now, but we’ll need to come back to this.
“Ready to get your ass handed to you by a bunch of seventy-year-olds?”
She gives me a long look over the rim of her cup. “Guess so.”
I hold the door open for her and usher her into the lobby.
“Hello, Mr. McKnight!” a friendly voice calls from the front desk.
“Hey, Sharyl.” I smile warmly. “Hope it’s okay, I brought a friend today.”
Sharyl glances at Monroe, her grin widening.Don’t make this weird, Sharyl.
“Of course, honey! No problem,” she says, sliding the sign-in sheet toward us. “Both of you add your names here and grab a visitor badge. You can head straight back to the courts when you’re done.”
We sign in, slap on our badges, and I grab two water bottles from the mini fridge near the desk before nudging Monroe toward the courts.