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I give her a dirty look as she hands him back his change. As the chief stuffs a generous tip into the tip jar, she gives me a shrug that combines confusion, curiosity, and a touch of exasperation, then glances meaningfully at the Chief and wiggles her eyebrows in a silent question.
My dirty look deepens.
Lucky grins, dusts her hands on her apron, and turns toward the espresso machine. “I’ll be right back with your order.”
We go around the other end of the counter and wait for our drinks.
“She seems nice,” the Chief says conversationally.
“She has a boyfriend,” I say and immediately wish I could take it back. Do I sound jealous?
Shit, I think I sound jealous.
The Chief chuckles lightly. “Well, I’m not in the market, so no problems there.”
Not in the market because he already has a girlfriend? Or because he’s not into commitment?
Crap, what if he’s not into women? I glance sideways at him. He couldn’t be gay, could he?
“Whatchya thinking about?” he asks.
No way am I answering that question honestly. “Thinking how lucky you are to have me to amuse you on your way to work.”
He nods in slow agreement. “I am mighty lucky, at that. Think I should make a habit of it?”
I snort.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “My schedule’s different almost every day. I doubt we’ll be walking to work at the same time very often.”
Why is that disappointing? How did a simple walk to work become such a minefield of emotions?
Lucky puts a cardboard holder with three cups of coffee in it on the counter in front of us, and the Chief picks it up. Lucky gives me a look that says We’ll talk about this later and waves us off, and we head back outside.
Two blocks later, we both come to a stop in front of the old stone steps that lead up to the library.
“Looks like this is your stop,” the Chief says. “Thanks for the walk. You made my morning brighter.”
I don’t doubt it. I think he loved every moment of aggravating me. “Thanks for the coffee,” I say begrudgingly.
“Any time, Miss Wilder.” He smiles winningly. “I hope we’ll see more of each other.”
He takes his coffee and turns away. I unlock the library, head in, and begin opening it up for the day. Lights on, computers on… the cranky old air conditioner makes a few ominous bangs before kicking in.
Sigh. It’s always something.
Gigi walks in a few minutes later, and I point her toward the mocha, which is sitting on the checkout desk in clear violation of our policy against food and drink in the public spaces. She thanks me and settles in.
Leaving her to deal with any patrons who come in, I head to my office to check my email.
The very first one is from the public library in New Orleans asking if I’m available for a preliminary video interview.
I sit there, staring at the screen. What started as a fantasy born of frustration just got real. At least, more real. It’s just a video interview. Nothing is set in stone…
Still, it feels like a big step.
As I’m sitting there, contemplating, another email pops up, this one from the town.
My heart jumps—maybe it’s good news about the Addison!—then I remind myself that it could just as easily be bad news.
