Page 71 of Defending You

She was obviously on edge. Though he remained vigilant, he was nearly certain they were safe.

“Tell me about you,” he said, wanting to distract her from her worries. “Do you like what you do?”

Her shoulders relaxed. “I love it. I’m doing exactly what I always wanted.”

There was a hint of something in her voice that told him she wasn’t telling the whole story. “But?” He prompted.

“I’ve always had this…this silly dream. Sort of a secret dream.”

He leaned toward her, wanting to know what it was.

“I’d like to open my own jewelry store in downtown Shadow Cove.”

“Why don’t you?”

“It costs a pretty penny to start a jewelry store.”

“But your family?—”

“My parents are wealthy. I’m not.”

“They wouldn’t loan you money?”

“They probably would, if I asked.”

But she wouldn’t ask. Interesting.

“Right now, I’m enjoying appraising, and I love the travel. When I tire of it, I’ll look at opening a store. How about you? What’s your secret dream?”

“Oh, well… It’s not that ambitious, actually. I just want…”

To not tell her his secret dream. She’d think it was stupid and small.

She worked on her burger—she’d hardly eaten any of it—and watched him.

“It’s not really a dream so much as just…what’s next.” He chewed a fry and swallowed it. “I’ve got my eye on this condo just outside of Boston. I can’t afford a house there. It’s a nice place.Not one of those new, fancy high-rises. It’s one side of a duplex with a little yard in the back.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“It’s small and old.” Why was he downplaying it? Because for someone who grew up in a mansion, it would seem dingy. “The plan is to hang onto it for two years, then, if the market cooperates, sell it and buy a house on some land.”

“You’ll stay in the Boston area?”

“That’s where the job is.”

“You like the job enough to stay there? Because I’m sure there are security companies in Maine or wherever you want to live.”

He ate the rest of his fish, thinking about that. This job was secure, and as much as he liked to think of himself as a risk-taker, the truth was, risk was scary.

Risk meant landlords tacking eviction notices on doors.

Risk meant no food in the fridge.

Risk meant danger.

He’d take on terrorists and crazy murderers bent on silencing witnesses. No problem.

But risking financial ruin? That was something he didn’t dare flirt with, not after watching his parents all his life.