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There’s a strange huskiness to my voice that has her gaze drifting upward. “You should be more careful,” she replies softly, slicking her tongue over her lips. “I hate to see you hurt. What if it gets infected?”
“You worry too much, Junebug.” Instinct has my own index finger lifting, skimming the curve of her cheekbone, a token of affection. I almost want to linger, to connect the dotting of dark freckles scattered across her skin, curious as to what kind of art I could create. But I shake the bizarre thought away, dropping my hand as June’s cheeks appear to flush a little pinker. “I promise I’ll survive.”
She laughs lightly, tucking an invisible piece of hair behind her ear. “I suppose it’s only a little burn. Sorry. I’m too softhearted.”
“You say it like it’s a bad thing when it’s the thing I love most about you.”
There’s a subtle shift in her expression, something I can’t quite translate, but it makes me wonder if I said something I shouldn’t have. I’m about to backtrack when someone bumps into me and I jolt, pivoting in place to see that a line of customers has formed, and here we are, obstructing the entrance, totally oblivious.
“I, uh…should probably eat something and get back on the clock,” I say, ruffling my hair, then pointing to the little bag of scones abandoned on the chair. “I really appreciate you stopping by. I’ll see you when I get home?”
June bobs her head, stretching a smile. She adjusts the sleeve of her cardigan, pulling it up over her shoulder. “Of course,” she murmurs, clearing her throat. “See you there.”
She turns to leave, sweeping past me like a sea-born breeze infused with lilacs and sunshine. I stare after her through the glass door as she traipses through the parking lot, ponytail bouncing side to side, arms crossed over her chest. Then I force my attention away and snatch up the paper bag, moving to head toward the kitchen.
Wendy catches my gaze the moment I’m facing her. She bores holes into me, tapping her pen along her notepad as she multitasks with a customer. There’s something dark brimming just beneath the happy copper color of her eyes, like a storm brewing while the sun still shines.
It unnerves me.
I scratch at my cheek, duck my head, then make my way to the break room to eat my scones.
“Brant, hold up.”
Wendy’s voice floats over to me across the parking lot as I stride toward my new Highlander. I purchased it just a few months ago. Used, of course, but in great condition. I’m eager to see how it handles the ugly winters ahead.
I slow to a stop, turning in place to find her jogging over to me in high heels. They click along the concrete, her legs hindered by the black pencil skirt that falls at her knees. “Yeah?”
I’m not sure what she could possibly want. She hasn’t broached any relationship discussion since she started working here, and I wouldn’t exactly call us friends.
A piece of hair falls loose from her clip. She pushes it aside when she reaches me, her eyes darting every which way until she finally pins them on me. Wendy sighs as she says, “That was weird earlier. With June.”
“What?” I’m immediately lost, a little defensive, my arms folding across my chest. “What was weird?”
Another sigh, and then, “The way you look at each other. The way you touch each other. It’s almost like…”
What the hell?
“Like what?”
She swallows. “It’s almost like you’re…involved. Intimately.”
My eyebrows lift to my hairline. My stomach swirls with nausea. “Whoa.” I stare at her, incredulous, my arms falling to my sides. Words are elusive as her bomb thunders through me, blasting me with buckshot and bewilderment. Throat tight, heart clenched, I mutter through gritted teeth, “Not only are you wrong, but you’re completely out of line.”
“Am I?”
“I’m telling you that you are.”
“And I’m telling you what I saw.”
I search her face, looking for an angle. Desperate to uncover some kind of manipulation tactic or wicked intent, but all I see is…concern. A sense of alarm.
And I think that shakes me up even more.
“Wendy, listen to me,” I say, my voice low. Hoarse, cracking. “I understand you’re hurting. I know this hasn’t been easy for you, what happened between us, and I’m sorry for that. I truly never meant to cause you harm.”
“That’s not what this is—”
“But to imply there’s something inappropriate going on between me and my teenaged sister is going too far. You’re crossing a line.”
