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CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Madelyn
The line at the post office had me tapping my toes impatiently. An old man with a long beard had brought in a stack of letters that looked about a foot high and was now making the lone clerk weigh each of them to make sure he had the right postage before affixing the stamps to the upper right corner with painstaking care.
I’d been here for ten minutes, and I hadn’t gotten any closer to mailing my package. My talk with Dexter this morning had left me feeling nostalgic for home and thinking fond thoughts of the parent I hadn’t lost. I’d decided to stop by the chocolate shop in town I’d discovered Mom loved so I could pick up some truffles to send her.
My phone chimed with an incoming text—a welcome distraction. I tucked the package with the chocolates under my arm and pulled out my phone.
What’s up?Summer had written.
Not a whole lot,I typed back.Have you ever been three people back in line behind a senior citizen who’s sending letters to all their known relatives? I swear I could have gotten this package to my mom in less time if I’d driven home.
The bubbles appeared at the bottom of the screen immediately, showing she was preparing her response.I’ll trade you. Have you ever been called a worthless waste of space for forgetting an order of fries for a table? Lunch shift is the worst.
I winced inwardly.There’s a reason I never became a server at the diner with you.
And there’s a reason I never go to the post office. Order online and have stuff sent direct! That’s the way to go.
My lips curled into a bemused smile.Not everything can be ordered online, you know. Aren’t you all about shop local?
Only when I’m also keeping it local, she shot back with a winking emoji. Then she added,It must be nice having your car back. No problems from the theft?
I hadn’t told her about the missing trinket box because I didn’t want to worry her more. Maybe once it was found, I’d share my ongoing worries, but I didn’t want to hear her tell me that I should just let it go.
I didn’twantto let it go, and I didn’t want to explain that to someone else. I’d pushed so hard the past few days with the guys, I couldn’t bring myself to face convincing someone else.
Nope, I wrote.Everything’s working fine. Apparently the way they steal cars these days, with the modern models, they don’t even hotwire them. So nothing got damaged.
The old man finally handed over his stack of envelopes, and the line started moving again. The next woman briskly bought a pack of padded envelopes.G2G, I added to Summer, and tucked my phone away.
At the tap of footsteps behind me, I glanced over my shoulder instinctively. My heart skipped a beat just as the guy I found myself looking at raised his eyebrows at me.
“If it isn’t Madelyn from the coffee shop,” Beckett said with an amused glint in his gray eyes. I’d forgotten just how good-looking he was with his bright gaze and sharply regal nose beneath the artfully messy waves of his sandy-blond hair. Especially when he was giving me that subtly warm smile.
“If it isn’t Beckett from the sidewalk outside the coffee shop,” I replied in an attempt at being funny that sounded all wrong the second it’d come out, remembering exactly how we’d met on that sidewalk. “Did you get the stain out of your shirt?”
He held up his hand as if swearing in on a witness stand. “I promise you did no permanent damage, other than to my general focus.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, already flushing a little at the teasing note in his voice.
His smile widened slightly. “I’ve been wondering whether I’d cross paths with you again. Didn’t expect to bump into you here, though.”
“Yeah, I’m just—mailing something to my mom,” I said, holding up the package and abruptly wondering if that sounded weird or childish. Weren’t parents supposed to be the ones sending their kids stuff at college, not the other way around? Although Mom did send me plenty. But Beckett didn’t know that.
He didn’t show any outward reaction, just held up an oversized envelope of his own. “Business documents to mail. It’s hard to believe some people still don’t use email for that kind of thing.”
“I guess there’s something to be said for hard copies.”
The space in front of me opened up, and the clerk motioned me over. A moment later, a second clerk joined her at the second register, and it ended up that I’d finished posting my package just as Beckett had paid for his registered mail. He walked over to the door with me, easing just a little ahead so he could open it for me.
“Iamcapable of opening doors on my own, you know,” I said in a lightly ribbing tone. “Or even for you.”
Beckett chuckled. “Read nothing into the gesture other than that I enjoy the chance to make your life a tiny bit easier. If you want to return the favor sometime, you’re more than welcome to. Where are you off to now, Madelyn?”
Something about his presence set me at ease—his upbeat calm, the steady confidence with which he’d let the implied criticism roll off him. A lot of guys would have gotten their backs up if teased like that. And his attitude couldn’t have been more different from Logan’s grouchy cockiness.
“You can call me Maddie,” I found myself saying. “I like that better—less stuffy-sounding. And I was just going to pop into the dollar store to grab a new pack of pens. Nothing exciting.”
