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She needed a second opinion.
Her mom picked up on the third ring. “How is the book going?”
Indy silently groaned, curling into her chair.
“Good. It’s getting there.” At least her mom couldn’t see her, otherwise she’d know she was lying.
Two weeks. It wasn’t enough.
“And what about your other project? The friend you were trying to contact?”
Shit. She’d forgotten she’d mentioned Nick. Her mom had never believed in Fate but always believed in love, made sure to tell her she loved her at least once a day. She’d always mention, “I never want to worry that I haven’t said it.”
Indy, however, had never said it to anyone other than her family or Sasha, a fact that choked her up at least every other month and doubly at Christmas. Though she had said it to several books, her PS5, and, on one drunken night, her bed.
“I’m,” she stalled, “it’s not great. He’s traveling. Hey, Mom? When you met Dad, did you know he was the one?”
It said a lot that her mom treated this like it was a normal question for Indy to ask. “No, that came much later.” Which, considering her mom didn’t believe in Fate, was the kindest answer she could give. “It’ll come, Indy. Just be patient.”
But at thirty-one, she was running out of patience.
How could she explain that it felt like with every step she took toward her destiny, the universe took a giant leap back? Why even bother leading her if it wasn’t real? What had been the point in finding the bracelet? The longer she chased a ghost, the more unavoidable Indy’s fear became. Just like Riley, this story was reaching an inevitable, and disappointing, conclusion.
* * *
Ethan had suggested picking Indy up, but she’d shut that down immediately. Meeting him at the diner was a thousand times easier than getting on the back of his bike again. She still hadn’t recovered from being plastered to his back.
She certainly hadn’t forgotten a single detail about it.
His dark hair, still damp from the shower, curled at his ears. The citrus and steam scent wafting off him filled her senses. Today he was leaning into the all-American look: a tight white shirt with blue jeans and sneakers.
Simple, and as sexy as ever.
It was impossible to steal her attention away from the swells of muscle at his biceps and forearms. They flexed and preened in the morning sun. Indy blamed sleep deprivation for the way she stared.
“Hey,” he said, voice soft, concern evident in the downturn of his brow. “How is my favorite espionage agent?”
She swallowed around the fluttering in her chest. “Hungry.”
Ruby’s Diner was bright and cheery, the air thick with butter and grease and coffee. Short red booths lined the front windows, and it was quiet enough to hear the line cook’s husky laughter wafting out of the kitchen. Ethan nodded a hello to the server, who lit up at the sight of him as he slid into the booth across from Indy.
As she took their order, Indy noted that her hair matched the vibrant red of the diner. It kick-started old memories of the clinch covers Indy had hoarded from the houses her parents renovated.
Ethan directed his smile to Indy when they were alone, and while her attention stuttered once, twice, on his broad shoulders, she returned it.
“You really didn’t have to do this.”
His hair was a mess from his helmet, but Ethan made messy look downright sexy. “First thing you have to know about me, Indy, is that I reciprocate with enthusiasm.”
Jesus Christ, he should come with aNot Safe for Workwarning. There was no way she would make it through brunch without catching on fire.
Sweet, lifesaving coffee arrived, a balm after her sleepless night. She had gulped most of it down by the time the server returned with their food.
“Late night?” Ethan asked, watching as Indy brought her refilled mug to her lips.
The coffee was a little bitter, but it was hot and took her back to weekends on worksites and the sips she’d bargained off Bobby, who handled the electrical work on her parents’ renovations. He’d pour her a small cup, and she’d sneak back to the car to drink it.
Despite always wanting to, she’d never eaten in a diner before. She had always imagined them as somewhere comforting. A sanctuary for the lonely.
