Page 23 of Dandelions and Smoke

FIVE

RORY

“At this point, I’m just going to learn how to break into a car,” I grumble, swinging my legs in my chair as I watch the girls work the rest of their shifts.

“Honestly, honey, I’m surprised you haven’t figured that out yet. Given what Tris tells me about you and your lock-pickin’ skills and how often you lock those poor keys in your car, you’d think you’d have learned by now,” Ainsley drawls playfully as she organizes some coffee cups on the counter.

“I’m surprised that rusty piece of metal still locks,” Tris mutters before looking at me over the cappuccino machine, with a taunting smile.

“Bitch!” I squeal. “Don’t talk about Miss Daisy like that! At least I have a car,” I quip, giving it right back to her.

Her eyes narrow, but she can’t help the way the corner of her lips tilts into a smile. I know everyone says that people used to fear Tris and her icy attitude. Billy, for one, is still terrified of her, but messing with her? Going head-to-head? It’s one of my favorite pastimes. It has been since the day we met.

“Brat,” she rolls her eyes. “It’s not my fault that my world was downgraded from first class to economy. You should have seen how beautiful my car was,” she says, covering her heart with her hand as she looks off into the distance, recalling the memory. “The universe finally decided to punish me for being fabulous.”

“I’m sure that’s exactly what the tow truck driver was thinking as it hauled your overpriced Mercedes away,” I tease back.

Tris’s mouth opens in mock offense. “Rude. It was a Bugatti.”

“Is there a difference?” I ask, brow raised as I look between her and Ainsley.

Ainsley shrugs, looking as clueless as I am, while Tris lets out a groan.

My laugh is cut short when, instead of Billy’s truck pulling up to the cafe, I see the Turtle Bay Fire Department’s command vehicle instead.

“Ainsley,” I grind out suspiciously, my eyes narrowing as I study her reaction to seeing the truck. Her lack of surprise has me jumping from my chair. “Ainsley! What did you do!?”

“Whatever do you mean?” she quips, tone dripping with mock innocence.

“Oh, don’t you give me that Southern belle bullshit right now!” I say, gesturing wildly and turning to Tris as she snorts. “Did you know about this?”

“I had nothing to do with it, but…” She pauses, clicking her tongue and sighing before she continues. “I can’t say I would have stopped her had I known.”

“That’s just great,” I grumble, looking out the window in time to see Chief Garrett step out of his truck.

My stomach lurches, nausea rising into my throat as my gaze shifts to the back door.

“Stop it,” Tris huffs. “This has gone on long enough, and what’s worse is, you actually like him. You can’t keep avoiding the poor guy.”

“Why not?” I retort, ignoring the rest of what she’s said.

“It’s your life,” Ainsley replies gently, her eyes warming. “At some point, you gotta ask, ‘who’s driving the bus?’”

“Who’s driving the bus?” Tris echoes in confusion, her brows turned down as she looks at Ainsley, but for once, I understand this metaphor.

“My bus is being driven by hungry raccoons,” I groan, frustrated. “And it’s not even a bus, but more like one of those Vespas they drive around in Europe. Meanwhile, I’m somewhere sitting in the basket at the front of it, so I mean… there’s that.”

Ainsley’s lips curve with quiet affection that has the tension in my shoulders melting. I don’t know how she does that, but she’s always calming me down without saying a word.

With a long-suffering, dramatic sigh, my shoulders slump.

“Do I have to?” I whine, looking out the window where Chief is patiently waiting for me at my car. That twisting feeling returns to my gut the longer I look at him, the same one that’s been there every time he’s come into the cafe this month.

“Yes,” the girls answer in unison.

“You both suck,” I mutter, rolling my eyes as the edge in my voice dulls a little.

“We love you too!” Ainsley calls out, shifting to her tiptoes in her cowboy boots to peek over Tris’s shoulder.