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I shake away the thoughts, laughing through my idiocy. “Sort of. I guess.” Reaching for my duffel, I sling it over my shoulder and rise to my feet. “Practice was challenging today. I’ll be recovering all week.”
“Gotcha. Good thing we’re jump-starting the recovery process with ice cream cones down by the riverwalk. You can eat those, right?” He jabs my belly with his index finger. “I know the word ‘sugar’ is occasionally considered a mild offense among teenaged girls.”
Swatting his hand away, I push forward toward the exit. “Yes, Theo, I can have those. I’ll have two now, just to be a brat.”
“Attagirl.”
We make our way outside and into the September sun, hopping into Theo’s cruiser and driving the short distance to the downtown riverwalk lined with pizza joints, cutesy boutiques, and ice cream shops. I let my hair down, and it dances through the open window as we parallel park along the bustling street. Jumping out of the car, I prop my sunglasses on my nose. “I thought you were off today,” I muse, strolling over to the sidewalk. “Did you get called in?”
Theo adjusts his holster, joining me in front of our favorite ice cream parlor. He sighs, whipping off his own sunglasses and securing them on his head. “Sure did. There always seems to be bad guys to defeat, people to save.” A grin curls in my direction as he gives me a gentle slug on the shoulder. “I’m making it sound a lot cooler than it is. It’s mostly traffic violations and petty citations.”
I return the smile. “Well, I’m glad you were still able to squeeze me in.”
“Anything for you, Peach. And anything for cookie dough.”
The little bell chimes overhead as we saunter into the shop, the scent of raspberry cream and warm vanilla sugar swirling around us. I purchase a few chunks of fudge for Mom and Dad, as well as a sack of saltwater taffy for Brant. He’s always had a sweet tooth. He told me once that desserts remind him of his late mother.
As the employee scoops the taffies into a bag, I tell her, “No purple ones, please.”
She glances at me. “Pardon?”
“No purple. All the others are fine.”
Apparently it’s a strange request because I get a long, baffled look before she painstakingly removes the purple candies, returning them to the case.
I take the treats with a big smile. “Thank you so much.”
Theo and I order our respective ice cream cones, and Theo ends up paying for the whole purchase. I thank him repeatedly because I’m only making ten dollars an hour at the dance studio, assisting the instructors with the miniature ballerinas. Money is tight, going mostly to my cell phone bill and chipping in with gas when Mom lets me drive the minivan.
While we wait for the cones, the young girl scooping out ice cream keeps looking up at me, her dark eyes glinting with curiosity. When she hands me my cone, she nibbles her lip and finally says, “I’ve seen you at Bistro Marino.”
“Oh! Yes, I’ve stopped by a few times,” I tell her, bobbing my head, then licking the melty ice cream dribbling over the side of the cone. “Good memory.”
“Your boyfriend is awesome. He’s so talented.”
I pause, nearly choking on the bite I just took. Blinking up at her, my eyebrows lift. “What?”
“I work part-time as a hostess there. Tuesdays and Thursdays. I’ve seen you stop in from time to time with his lunch or something. Anyway, I wasn’t trying to be nosy, but I wanted you to know that you’re lucky. My boyfriend can’t even microwave a Lean Cuisine without messing it up.” She laughs, bending to make Theo’s cone. “You two are adorable together.”
I’m speechless for a moment, braving a glance at Theo, who has a single eyebrow raised in confusion. “I–I’m sorry, you must be thinking of someone else…”
She pops her head back up, her ponytail swishing behind her. “Brant. The head chef.”
“Brant is my brother. He’s not my boyfriend.”
A moment of silence passes. A terribly awkward moment. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.” The girl hands Theo his order, swiping her hands along her apron. “The way you two interacted with each other, I just thought… Wow, okay. I’m sorry.”
She blushes, mortified.
I do the same because I’m equally mortified.
The clerk clears her throat, scratching at her neck as she addresses Theo. “You must be her boyfriend. I apologize for the misunderstanding.”
“Also her brother.”
Her eyes pop. “Wow. Great, that’s…great.” She gives us a little wave and moves to make a hasty retreat. “I’ll go die now.”
Stepping away from the counter, Theo follows behind me and we exit through the glass door, the little bell signaling our departure and sounding far less cheerful on the way out. When I take a bite of my ice cream cone, it tastes like shame.
