The Missionary Read Free Page A

a too-innocent shrug. “She’s got that thing going on with Brett, you know. So I figured she could drive my Honda home and you could give me a ride. It’s not out of your way, is it?”
    “Well…I mean—sure. Why not.” He couldn’t say no, not with those deep brown eyes fixed on him. “Where do you live?”
    “Not too far. UV apartments.”  
    Stone suppressed a groan. The University of Virginia student apartments were on the complete opposite end of Charlottesville from his loft.  
    He wanted to spend time with Wren. She made him feel…alive and present in reality, which was a huge improvement over most of the time, when he felt like he was drifting and disconnected. Ever since his discharge from the SEALs, he’d been at loose ends. Being around Wren grounded him.  
    Yet, he shouldn’t spend time with her. He wasn’t the right man for her. He was too messed up. He had too much blood on his conscience.  
    He shook his head and started the Monte Carlo with a throaty rumble. The 350 small block idled with a powerful grumble until Stone backed out of the parking spot and headed towards the university.
    The silence was awkward. Now that he was alone with her, he had no idea what to say. He glanced at Wren, who was clearly trying not to stare at him, and barely containing a grin.  
    “This is a cool car,” she remarked. “What kind is it?”
    “1983 Monte Carlo.”  
    “So is it a muscle car?”  
    Stone’s lips quirked involuntarily. “Yeah, I guess so.” Another long, awkward silence. Then Wren laughed, shaking her head. “What’s funny?” he asked.
    She rolled her window down, slid lower in the seat, and rested bare feet on the side-view mirror. “Just you. You’re funny.”
    Stone frowned. “Why? What’d I do?”
    She glanced at him, holding her loose hair in place with one hand. “Nothing. That’s the point. You’ve got the whole strong-and-silent act down to a science.”
       Stone rubbed his forehead with a knuckle. “It’s not an act. I mean, I’m not trying—” He cut himself off, not sure what he was even saying. “I’m just not good at conversation.”
    Wren giggled. “No kidding. Getting more than four or five words out of you at a time is like pulling teeth.” She shoved at his bicep playfully. “I’m pretty good at talking, so maybe I can teach you.”
    Stone lifted an eyebrow. “You’re gonna teach me how to be a better conversationalist?”
    She raised one brow back at him. “Yep. You definitely need help. So. Here’s how this works. I say something, and you say something back. But you can’t just answer the most basic part of what I said. You have to leave room for more…I don’t know, more stuff to be said. You can’t just grunt yes or no answers, you know? You have to keep things open for us to have a conversation. And…you could always try something really daring, like asking me questions about myself. That’s how we get to know each other.”
    Stone did sigh then. “Wren, I didn’t say I didn’t know how to have a conversation. Just that I’m not very good at it.”
    “Well, the only way to get better is to practice. So, give it a try.”
    “Give what a try?”
    “Conversating with me.”
    “Is that even a word? And, isn’t that what we’re doing?”
    “Conversating is a word if I say it is. And I say it is.” She dug in her purse and brought out a ponytail holder, tied her hair back in a tight bun, then stuck her hand out the window and adjusted the plane of her palm so the rushing wind lifted and lowered her arm. “This is where you ask me something about myself. I’m an open book, so ask anything.”
    “What am I supposed to ask you about?”
    Wren gave him a wry glance. “Whatever you want to know about. Duh.”
    The problem, Stone reflected, was that he wanted to know everything. “Fine, I’ll play along. Um…what’s your major?”
    “Well that’s kind of a boring conversational gambit, but you’re new at this, so I’ll