Page 9 of When In Doubt

She’d be right to. I mean, Jesus Christ, it’s like I was raised in a fuckin’ barn.

I take my truck. I could walk it in less than twenty minutes, but I don’t want to wait. I park down the street and head toward the store, tucking my hands into my pockets against the cold. In my hurry, I don’t bother to read the sign and try to push straight through the locked door, almost smacking my face on the glass.

“Shit,” I mutter to myself.

“She’s closed on Thursdays,” a voice calls out. I turn around to find Becca in the doorway of her diner, giving me a vaguely amused look.

“Yeah, I got that much,” I grumble.

I take another look at the shop, the glow of the street casting the hardwood floors in a soft light. Damn.

I guess I might as well get a sandwich out of the trip. I cross to Becca’s and get hit by the smells wafting out of the diner, only now remembering the oatmeal I left abandoned on the counter.

“You didn’t get what you were looking for yesterday?” Becca asks, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips.

I give her a hard look. I know what she wants, and I’m not biting.

“Well, you’ll just have to come by again tomorrow.” She heads behind the counter. “The usual?”

I nod, pulling out my wallet. “Thanks.”

She accepts the bills, sliding them into the register before she starts on the tuna melt and black coffee I order at least twice a week. Waiting for the melt to cook, she eyes me suspiciously. “You know, it’s funny. I’ve never known Freya to close up early, but she did yesterday.”

I freeze, blink twice. “She did?”

“She did,” Becca confirms with an eyebrow raise. “Right after you stormed out looking like someone pissed on your lawn.”

I wince. How badly did I upset her?

“You saw that?”

“Honey, the entire front of my diner is made of glass.” She tilts her head. “Yes, I saw you.”

“Right. Sure,” I mumble, accepting the coffee she hands over.

“Your sandwich’ll be ready in just a minute.”

“Thanks.” I give her a half smile, throwing my change back into the tip jar.

The bell over the door chimes when I’m halfway through eating, and I glance up to see Mack and his wife entering just as a small body collides with my knee.

“Occa!” it shouts, pulling a grin out of me as I reach down and pick up the three-year-old. She’s wearing a mini Cedar Creek Fire Department T-shirt that Joni had made a few months back when we were celebrating Mack’s third year as captain.

“Hey, Birdie.” I smile and place her on my lap. I wave over at Joni, Mack’s wife, who flashes me a grateful look as the two of them order at the counter. Birdie immediately starts squirming, gripping a handful of my beard in her fist and attempting to stand on my thighs. I must be due for a shave if she can get her little hand into it.

I hold her up as she teeters, enjoying her new vantage point. “How you doing there?” I ask.

“Me and Daddy are going park,” she yells, causing me to flinch back at the volume. The dark blonde hair that she gets from her dad falls in messy ringlets around her face. I brush a strand out of her eyes and tuck it behind her ear.

“Oh yeah?” I ask. “Which park?”

She frowns at me, scrunching up her little nose. “The park,” she answers, like it’s obvious.

Luckily Mack finishes at the counter before I can drop his daughter. He scoops her off my lap and lifts her over his head, her squeals of delight echoing around the diner as he flies her around the table. “We’re walking Momma to work, and then we’re gonna go play, aren’t we, baby?” he says to her. “Hey, Murphy.” He smiles at me. “Sorry about this little monkey.”

“It’s no bother.” I grin back. “I’ve been told I make a good jungle gym.”

He slides into the seat across from me, Birdie nestled on his lap. I’m happy they’ve come in. Usually I have dinner with Mack’s family a couple times a month, but we’ve both been crazy busy at the station. It hasn’t left much time for socializing.