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We get to the window and he orders a funnel cake. “Do you want anything?”
I glance at the menu. “Sure, I’ll take a churro. Haven’t had one in years.”
Declan pays the man and he hands us the food. We keep walking.
“Visit a prison? Shit. That actually sounds kinda gangster, never done that before.”
I laugh and clap him on the back. “That’s what I like about you, Dec. You’re always down for new shit, no matter how dangerous it is.”
“It’s not dangerous though. There’s guards and shit there, right?”
I laugh at him. “This from the guy who snowboarded down the most dangerous and steepest hill in Aspen and narrowly missed three trees on the way down.”
“You have a point,” he replied, picking off a piece of his funnel cake and popping it in his mouth.
THIRTEEN
Taryn
––––––––
Isit in the breakroomalone on Tuesday, eating my chili-lime chicken salad, scrolling through social media on my phone. After I swallow a bite, I pick up my water.
“Ms. Andrews. How are you?”
The bottle pauses at my lips as I stare up at Carter, looking and smelling downright delicious.
Saturday afternoon, I’d texted him a thank-you for taking care of me the night before. He didn’t respond. I thought it was rude, but whatever. He was obviously pissed at me. He doesn’t to be seem now, though.
“I’m good, boss.” I look around the breakroom and to the door to make sure nobody is coming in. “Thank you for helping me on Friday. Did you get my text?”
He grabs a plastic container of something from the fridge and closes the door. “Yep.”
“Oh, okay. Well, sorry I was an asshole.”
“You were drunk. It is what it is, Taryn.” Then, he walks out.
