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The second Trish’s surprised eyes landed on me, my throat went dry. I cleared it, but nothing came out when I tried to speak. Then her blue pools frosted, and I knew I was in trouble.
“What can I get for you, Mr. Dixon? It’s been so long, I can’t remember your favorite.” Her chin lifted. I didn’t get one of the smiles every customer in front of me had. And she was back to formalities with me.
“Damn,” Officer Wilson said under his breath. “You’re in serious trouble.”
Thanks for the news flash.
“Hi, Bright Side. Why don’t you surprise me?” Well, well. I’d found my voice, managed to sound smooth, and remembered to give her my best grin.
Her face was stony. Guess I needed a little more practice.
“Coming right up.” She stalked away as if I were the last person on earth she wanted to see.
“I wish I was interested in her,” Officer Wilson said. “Right now, I’d have a better shot than you, and we started on a really bad foot.”
I glared at him, and he laughed. “She’ll come around.”
“I doubt it,” Trish said, startling me.
Officer Wilson suppressed a snicker.
“I take it you’ve missed me?” I attempted charm, but based on her crossed arms, I failed miserably.
“Hardly,” she said icily. “Thirteen forty-two, please.”
Whoa. She was all business. I fished out my wallet from my coat pocket while keeping my gaze on her. “Life and work keep getting in the way,” I started, praying she’d see I’d missed our time together. “Let me cook dinner for you. On Sunday. I know that’s your day off.”
A little huff escaped her, and she tightened her arms across her chest. “No.”
Her flat-out refusal stung. I handed her a twenty. “I guess I deserve that.” I picked up the bag of food and my lemonade. When she tried to give me my change, I pointed at her tip jar.
Somehow, that appeared to piss her off too. This tiny line formed between her brows. I hated it was in frustration, but I wanted to see that line again. Trish was cute when she was mad.
Her cell phone rang, humming against the counter where it vibrated.
“I’m sorry. I need to take this.” She looked past me, her apology directed at Officer Wilson. Ouch.
“Go ahead,” he said.
He barely had the words out before she answered. Trish moved away from the window, but I could still see when all the blood drained from her face.
“How could they?” she nearly shouted. “He could just do it again.”
There was panic in her voice. Officer Wilson straightened as he went on alert, and I fought the urge to circle the truck and go inside to put my arms around her.
“When will we know something definite?” Trish waited for the other person to answer. “No. No. It’s fine.” She waved her hand in front of her as if the caller could see. “I want you to call with any news.”
Trish hung up and dropped the phone on the counter, though she didn’t turn back to the window for a long moment. When she did, she’d fashioned a brave expression on her face as if she’d never been upset.
“Something for supper, Timothy? Or just lemonade today?” she asked, ignoring me.
His brow creased with concern, and we exchanged a look.
“What’s wrong?” I skated right over her attempt to move on.
Her eyes flicked down to mine. A trace of fear swam in their depths, but to her credit, she hid that behind the disdain.
“None of your business.”
