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“Hope Law can make it to the next movie night,” Oliver says.
Skylar covers her mouth as she swallows. “Unless another last-minute meeting pops up, he’ll be here.”
Oliver shifts his attention to me and the corner of his mouth tips up in a sneaky half-smile. “And maybe K will invite Travis. I mean…Officer Emerson.” He bats his lashes, then sighs as if swooning.
I throw a pillow at his head and hit my mark. “You’re ridiculous.”
In a blink, the movie is forgotten, food is pushed away, and three hard stares heat my face.
“Um, what?” Skylar asks.
“It’s nothing.” I narrow my gaze on Oliver. Tell him with a single look to shut up.
Oliver chooses to ignore my silent demand as he picks a piece of ham off his pizza and pops it in his mouth. “Didn’t look like nothing.” He chews and swallows, chasing it with a swig of soda. “Yeah, she flirts with all the customers. I do too. Worth the boost in tips.” His expression grows a touch serious as he meets my eyes. “But you’re different with Travis. You always have been.”
I sift through memories of work and the countless times I’ve talked with Travis. The man is at Poke the Yolk daily, ahead of the breakfast rush. He sits in the same spot at the counter. Orders one of three breakfasts with black coffee. Flashes his dazzling smile and flirts with me without reservation. When I walk off to help another customer, his gaze trails me across the restaurant.
No sense in denying I love his dark-rimmed honey eyes on me. I love that he can’tnotlook. As if he fears he’ll miss something vital. As if I’ll vanish. His eyes on me stirs a buzz beneath my diaphragm and kicks up an endless whirl of nervous energy in my rib cage.
And god… I live for the addictive high it creates.
But none of it means anything.
Flirting with Travis comes naturally. I’m good at it. He’s good at it. And we both don’t seem to get enough. But it doesn’t mean anything. Not really.
Or does it?
Am I different with him?
I shake off Oliver’s comment. “I am not different with him,” I say, not convincing anyone in the room, including myself. Half-eaten slice of pizza in hand, I add, “New subject,” then take a huge bite.
Delilah chooses a tamer topic of conversation and talks about the new addition to the library. Construction begins tomorrow and has been the talk of the town among the older generations and investors. The rest of the town is excited for the expansion but not as engrossed with the specifics.
“Paige is confident the bookstore will see a boost in foot traffic, sales, and events,” Delilah says, referring to Page by Paige, the only retail bookstore in Stone Bay.
“Less time for reading on the job,” Skylar teases.
Delilah waves her off. “Shush you.” With a roll of her eyes, she shakes her head. “I’ll have plenty of time to read.” She sticks out her tongue, then shifts her attention to the movie.
Conversation tapers off as we finish eating pizza and shift to sweets and popcorn. We lay in a haphazard pile on the floor, none of us complaining or uncomfortable.
This is what we do, this is who we are. Friends—a found family—that share the good, bad, and horrid. We joke and tease and call each other out. When life is hard, we lift each other up. When something good happens, we cheer and party. Most importantly, we are there for each other through thick and thin.
I get up and go to the kitchen for more drinks. As I close the fridge, I hear what sounds like light knocking at the front door. Thinking it’s Lawrence, I smile for Skylar and pad over to the door. Unbolting the lock, I open the front door and am met with nothing. My brows tug at the middle as I lean out, looking left then right. Nothing.
I shrug, step back, close the door, and lock it. Grabbing the drinks from the kitchen, I return to the living room and plop down between Skylar and Oliver.
“Someone at the door?” Oliver asks.
I shake my head. “Thought I heard something. Was probably the movie echoing in the foyer.” But as I stare at the screen and the words leave my lips, a shiver rolls down my spine.
FIVE
TRAVIS
I steermy officer-assigned SUV into the lot at Poke the Yolk, a smile on my face when I spot Kirsten through the window. Weaving between tables with loaded plates in either hand, she beams at the older couple as she reaches their table and delivers their breakfast.
For a beat, I remain behind the wheel with the engine running and observe her from a distance. Watch as she smiles and interacts with other townsfolk in my absence. A softness touches the corners of her eyes as she leans in and listens to the older woman. Smile widening, Kirsten rests a hand on the woman’s shoulder and says something. Both women smile and an unfamiliar ache blooms in my chest.
