Free Perfect Pairing by Rachel Spangler Page A

pocket-style passenger door and hopped up the two metal steps, her sensible two-inch heels clanking as they went. “Good morning.”
    â€œMorning,” Hal echoed and watched as she looked around.
    â€œIs there another seat in here, or shall I ride on your lap?”
    â€œIt’s on the wall.” She flipped down a padded wooden board. “Or there’s a more comfortable one behind me.”
    Quinn glanced at the fold-down seat and the lap belt dangling from it, then back at the large windshield. “This will do. I guess.”
    â€œYou guess?”
    â€œOne really doesn’t have to worry about a crash-test rating while driving in a tank, right?”
    Hal laughed. “I’ve never looked at it that way.”
    â€œNo?” Quinn asked settling in. “How do you look at it?”
    â€œWell, with all the propane tanks we’ve got in the back, I always figured getting ejected from this combustible tin can in an accident might actually be a good thing.”
    â€œCombustible tin can. Lovely. How far will we be driving today?”
    â€œOnly about five miles,” Hal said, shifting her beast of a truck into gear. “Right through the heart of city traffic.”
    If Quinn felt nervous about that prospect, she didn’t let it show. It probably took quite a bit to shake her, but that didn’t stem Hal’s urge to try. No, she couldn’t let her more petty instincts take over. She didn’t like answering to anyone, and being on someone’s payroll felt an awful lot like answering to them. But Quinn had made it clear Hal set the rules here. Really, her arrangement with Quinn had a lot of similarities to her cooking setup. She had something Quinn wanted. She set the price, did the work on her own time, in her own way, and at the end Quinn paid for whatever she offered. Only instead of a sandwich, she got some knowledge.
    â€œYou’re not very talkative today,” Quinn said as they merged onto Highway 354.
    â€œNot much of a morning person.”
    Quinn made a show of looking down at her watch and raising her eyebrows.
    â€œTen a.m. is morning.”
    â€œYes, it is,” Quinn agreed, then added, “midmorning, late morning for some, but literally before noon.”
    â€œI suppose you pop out of bed at five every morning, then go for a run and still come home fresh as a friggin’ daisy.”
    â€œOh, Hal, you sure know how to talk to a lady.”
    She snorted.
    â€œAnd I often sleep until six or later.”
    â€œAnd you lie around while your butler brings you breakfast in bed?”
    â€œFirst of all, your opinion of my bank account is wildly inflated. Second, is breakfast in bed even a real thing?” Quinn asked. “Do people really do that? Eat in bed? It seems like a bad idea to me. There must be a lot of balancing, and crumbs in sheets. Doesn’t sound relaxing at all to me.”
    Hal laughed.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œNo, I think you’re probably right. The reality of breakfast in bed isn’t nearly as sexy as the cultural image. If you’re going to be in bed with another person, there are better things to do than eat.” She heard Sully’s voice in her head saying, “That’s what she said,” and quickly added, “I mean, better than eating breakfast, I mean, you know what I mean.”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œOh look, we’re here.”
    Hal pulled the truck into the parking lot at Willowbrook Farms. The street around them was lined with what looked like a bunch of self-storage buildings, long and low with a row of garage style doors and loading docks. A few semi-trucks waited, their motors idling, cargo holds open toward the warehouses. Quinn stepped down, shielding her eyes against the sun as she scanned her surroundings. Hal waited quietly behind her, letting the setting soak in. This probably wasn’t a part of Buffalo Quinn had ever seen.
    A few workmen in jeans