My eyes hone in on the line of cars preceding us. I’m tempted to tell him not to call me sweetheart, but he did it with such a compelling smile that I can only muster one response. “Oh.”
He folds his arms over his chest and leans against the door, continuing to stare at me. Flustered, I reach down with my fingers to pick at a crack in the leather. I wish he wouldn’t look at me like that because it makes me wonder what he’s thinking. All through this, my sister is still talking but I’m no longer paying attention. “All right, Ave. I gotta go. I’ll see you later.”
“That’s it?” she asks, disappointment clear in her voice.
“Yup.”
The click of her heels against the wood floor sounds in my ear as she navigates the room. “I hope you’ve got something better for me when you get home.”
“Goodbye, Avery.” I end the call before shooting a quick text to Troy. Dropping the cell in my purse, I let out a groan.
Vance’s gaze follows my phone, then drifts up to me. “What’s wrong?”
“My sister,” I explain with another groan and an eye roll. “She has a one-track mind.”
“Oh yeah?” His hair tumbles across his cheek as he tilts his head to regard me. “What track is that?”
“The sex track.”
“Ah, the dreaded sex track,” he muses. “Unfortunately, I know a lot about that.” He’s not smiling anymore and I have a hard time reading his expression. I think it might be one of regret.
“Maybe it’s time to switch tracks,” I suggest with humor, trying to keep the conversation light.
“I wish I could,” he mumbles under his breath. And I wonder what that means.
NOT LONG AFTER, I take over the wheel and make another pit stop at a gas station. By the time we pull into Vance’s driveway, it’s late. The streetlights cast a soft glow inside the car, his face in shadows. I can just detect the outline of his smile.
“Well, Mickey, this was….” His eyes seek out mine in the semi-darkness and he pauses as if to chase the words. “An adventure. I had… fun.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
He averts his gaze as he leans forward, hand poised over the door handle. Then he looks back, his voice quiet. “Thank you for the lift. And… for everything you did today.”
I want to tell him I didn’t do anything. But the absolute sincerity radiating off of him makes me decide to accept his gratitude without my usual fight. “You’re welcome.” With a subtle nod of his head, he opens the door and steps out before shutting it behind him.
My fingers gravitate toward the rabbit’s foot and I spin it around, mesmerized. I’m about to back out, except something makes me glance up to Vance’s front door. When I do, I find him standing there staring my way. I can’t make out his face from here because it’s too dark. But I can sense he’s smiling, and a weird pang erupts in my belly. I don’t know what it means. But I know how it feels—
A lot like happiness.
THE PARKING LOT near Anna’s pastry shop is pretty empty this morning, but surprisingly, there’s a line at the door. I figured I’d come over and buy Ember a coffee, my way of saying thank you for everything she did yesterday. I’m jittery though, hopped up on—I don’t know what—and now I’m second-guessing myself. Maybe this wasn’t such a hot idea after all.
I cup my hands against the window and peer in. Ember is behind the register alone, whirling around from one side of the counter to the other. Her face is set in determination but she seems… frazzled. Not bothering to be polite, I deal with muttered curses and push my way through the front door. Ember happens to glance up and shoots me a half-smile, continuing to ring up customers. I can’t help but wonder where the other employees are. There is no way she can handle all these people by herself.
“Hey, what’s going on?” I ask once I weave my way to the counter. She doesn’t look over at me when she responds, and I end up speaking to her back.
“I can’t talk right now, Vance. Anna and Rosie are both sick, and….” Ember gestures with a hand toward the crowd then spins around. She tries to paste on a smile as she rings up a customer, while waiting on someone else who can’t make a decision about pastries to save their freaking life. Grumbles from behind don’t make the lady decide any faster, so I give her a subtle shove.
“You might want to choose something. Two minute decisions are key in a coffee shop and,” I jerk my head toward the crowd, “you’re kind of holding up the line.”
The only response I get is an angry brown-eyed glare and a flick of auburn hair over her shoulder as she steps to the side. It’s then that I decide to take matters into my own hands. I plow straight back behind the counter. Ember stares at me dumbfounded as I head right for her.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing, Mickey? You need help, and I’m helping.”
She passes coffee to a woman with a huge rack and an amused smile who is watching us like we’re some kind of side show.