Since Ean’s primary mode of transportation was a bike and its tires were slashed Rachel drove. The atmosphere in her little blue car was tense, until finally Ean couldn’t take it anymore and broached a subject that had been seriously bothering him.
So, Rachel, he asked, how did you, uh, know where I live? Ean was a man who valued a certain amount of privacy from the world: he wasn’t even listed in the phone book.
Rachel kept her eyes studiously on the road. I couldn’t find you in the phone book or online, so I worked a backdoor into the company’s HR database but they’d already removed you. Really well, too, but they still had an address on some old records from when you previously worked there in college? Anyway, Fred said he’d seen you walking in to work, and since you’d hit your head… I wanted to make sure you’d gotten home okay. And to apologize.
Rachel risked a glance at Ean, then snapped her gaze back to the road. You aren’t mad I hacked your file, are you? she asked.
If I could’ve snickered I would’ve. The real question was: Did Ean think he could handle someone who had brains, beauty, and an unethical approach to the use of company resources?
Um… no? Ean said, and I couldn’t tell if he was talking to Rachel or myself.
Oh, said Rachel with the faintest hint of a smile. Good.