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Mack’s phone rang. “I’ll be right back.”
Charlie wiped down the syrup bottles and spoon when Mack returned.
“Hey, I need to get going.”
Charlie’s chest deflated. Of course Mack had to leave. She’d been here all damn day. Did she think that Mack would join her in a bath? Okay,perhapsthat crossed her mind. She held a plastered smile. “For sure. I can’t believe… you’ve been here all day. You probably have people to see and?—”
“No, it’s not like that. I need to Zoom with my agent and I really need to shower. Not that she hasn’t seen me look like hell before, but I just…” She flashed her arms across her dirt-covered chest. “I have to get ready for the conference and book signing tomorrow.”
Charlie smacked her hand against her forehead. “I’m ridiculously selfish. I literally didn’t even think of that.”
Mack wrapped up the apron and tossed it on the counter. “Don’t make me go.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Writing sometimes feels like my side chick. Horrible term, I know, but follow me along on this little misogynistic analogy train ride.” She threw her laptop bag across her shoulders. “I love it. I’m seduced by it. But sometimes, I feel like it’s going to strip my sanity. Book signings feel like I sold my soul to Satan’s bride.”
“I wish I could do something to make it easier for you.”
“Unless you can sit by me feeding me scones and Americanos,sadly, no.” She grinned and reached for her keys. “My dad said he’d come by in the morning and double-check the flooring.”
How did she win the jackpot with Mack and her dad? “I didn’t thank you enough for this. I don’t know how to repay you.”
“Go out with me Saturday night for dinner?” Mack stepped back like she saw a ghost. “Oh my God, not that you need to repay me by going out with me.”
I shouldn’t.I can’t.“I’d love to.”
Mack waved her wrists. “Nope, I just made it super awkward. Now I’ll never know if you would’ve accepted no matter what or if my intensely superhuman manual-labor skills made you feel obligated.”
“Stop.” Charlie smiled. “I feel like I should be taking you out for dinner.”
“No, we’re even, remember? New slate.” Mack tapped her palm against her bag. “So… dinner on Saturday?”
A date? Shouldn’t she keep Mack in the friend zone? She’d barely healed from her divorce. Mack wasn’t even from Seattle.
Her insides scrunched, twisted, and turned.
Screw it. I deserve some fun.
“Saturday sounds perfect.”
SIXTEEN
MACK’S DRINK SPECIAL: OVERSTIMULATED CHAI TEA WITH WHIPPED CREAM RELIEF
The buzzing alarm cut through the darkness. Mack slapped the nightstand in search of it and eased one eye open. 5:00 a.m. Yuck. Graveyard shift.She counted backward from ten and tumbled off the bed. The heated, high-pressure shower soothed her aching muscles. No wonder her dad was so fit. One day of manual labor work and body parts burned she didn’t even know existed.
Twenty minutes later, she pulled and tucked the sheets until she achieved proper hospital corners, then reached for her comfort board. With every methodical swipe, the iron dissipated her nerves. A mere twelve hours from now, she’d be done schmoozing with humans and could hide under the covers in a dark room until the jolts faded.
Beep.Her heart skipped at Charlie’s name.
“What the…” She tapped on the message to enlarge it. A picture of a scone with a butcher knife filled the screen.
Charlie: if you ever want to see your scone alive again, you’ll meet me on the corner of Pike and Pine wearing a Macklemore t-shirt, converse sneakers, and carrying a gallon of oat milk.
Mack: did you send me a scone hostage photo?
Mack: I’m impressed. But also calling the gluten authorities
