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I held up my hands. “I didn’t say anything.”
She narrowed her eyes and I chuckled again.
“You’re like this kid I knew in kindergarten,” I said. “He used to tattle on me for ‘thinking bad thoughts about him.’”
“I’m going to tattle on you to Bibi for all your Buick slander, spoken or otherwise.”
She gave me a last, knowing smirk and climbed out of the car. We hurried along sidewalks slick with new rain. Clean.
The doughnut shop consisted of one giant display, a coffee station, and a handful of grimy little booths, all of which were empty.
“There’s no Bob,” Shiloh said, leaning in to me as we waited in line behind the only other customer. She pointed to the squat, dark-haired guy behind the counter. “That’s Francisco, the owner. He’s always in a bad mood and will disappear in the back if you take too long deciding what you want. I love him ever so much.”
“Next,” Francisco barked.
“Powdered jelly, please,” Shiloh said.
Francisco jerked his chin at me. “You?”
“Chocolate bar,” I said and glanced down at Shiloh. “Coffee?”
She reached for her bag. “Sure, but let me—”
“I got this,” I said, my tone final.
A small smile spread over her lips. “So this is next time.”
“Yeah, it is,” I said, glancing down at her. She was small and slender; I towered over her, sheltering her. And now I was paying for her food. Taking care of her. It wasn’t much but the moment felt big. And maybe she felt it too; the way she was gazing up at me…
Something’s happening.
Except that wasn’t true. Something had been happening since that first afternoon in her backyard.
“You want coffee or not?” Francisco demanded, inching toward the back room.
“Two coffees,” I said.
I paid cash and Francisco handed us the doughnuts in a paper bag, two coffee cups, and nodded in the direction of the coffee station.
Shiloh and I sat in a booth as the rain picked up. I watched h
er take a bite of her jelly doughnut, powdering her lips with sugar. She started to take another one, but stopped, stared, looking almost angry as I took a bite of my chocolate bar.
“What did I do now?”
“That,” she said, flapping her hand at my doughnut.
“I’m eating.”
“Yes, exactly. You’re eating. With that mouth of yours.”
“What’s wrong with my mouth?”
“Absolutely nothing, that’s the problem. Your lips should be illegal.” She huffed a sigh. “Look, I’m going to be blunt because being wishy-washy just isn’t my style. I don’t peddle bullshit to anyone, least of all myself.”
“Okay.” I reached for my coffee. “This allowed?”
She made a frustrated sound that was cute as fuck. “I’m being serious.”
