The officer glances over, an unimpressed look gracing his face. “Evening, Fletcher.”
“Evening, Officer Ego.”
The second cop mutters something under his breath and heads toward the pool tables, while Gwen bites her lip and busies herself with refilling the shelves.
“Kane Tucker,” the cop in front of me says, offering his hand across the bar.
I wipe mine on my apron before taking his warm grip in mine, and he doesn’t rush to pull it away.
“Penelope Easton.”
“New?”
“Yup. Trial shift.”
“Ah.” He glances around at the groups creating the noise and mild chaos behind me. “You’re doing fine. I’ll have a pint of the house lager.”
Behind me, Chip drops something that luckily bounces, but Gwen says nothing because she’s clearly listening. Tucker watches me navigate the register, and I feel his gaze drop briefly downward, then back to my face.
“You’re not from here,” he says after a second.
“Nope. I’m from Toronto.”
He lets out a low whistle. “That’s a decent commute.”
“I’m trying something different.”
“Yeah?”
“Seems to be working out.” I nod over my shoulder toward the booth area. “I’ve only mildly annoyed the FD so far.”
His eyes follow my gesture and land on the firefighters, then return to mine.
“Careful,” he says lightly. “You’ll get recruited.”
“For what?”
“Bad hockey and worse opinions.”
From behind me, Mason scoffs loudly. “We can hear you, Tucker.”
“Good,” Tucker calls back without turning. “Stay hydrated.”
I slide his beer across the bar to him.
“Maplewood treating you okay so far?” he asks.
“I’ve only been here a little while, but people introduce themselves here, which is nice.”
“That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“You still look surprised I’m talking to you.”
I lean back slightly against the counter. “Unsure surprised is the word I’d choose. Are you always this observant?”
“Only off duty.” He grins and takes a sip of his beer, watching me over the rim of the glass. “You getting off soon?”
