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“That’s good.” I gave her a weak smile. “I’m sure it was nothing. I’m a little jumpy. That’s all.”
Mrs. Quinn touched my shoulder. She took our well-beings upon herself as if she bore responsibility for all us. Taking care of the residents was personal for her. I was so thankful she’d given Ella and me a home.
Today had spooked me, though.
“You have every right to be. And there’s not a thing in the world wrong with being cautious.”
“I don’t think he’s coming back. Not with the way he took off.”
“As long as you’re okay.”
“I’m all good.”
“I’ll let you get to sleep.”
Mrs. Quinnquietly shut the door on her way out. I checked on Ella once more before crawling into bed. As soon as I closed my eyes, I wasn’t in the dark basement like I usually was. This time, I saw Andrew Dixon’s kind eyes. I burrowed into the covers, feeling safe for reasons I couldn’t understand. Instead of fighting sleep, I welcomed it. For the first night in years, I didn’t wake up once from the nightmares real or imagined.
Chapter Three
Trish
“I’ll havethe short ribs and a lemonade.”
I jerked my head up from where it was buried in the cash register while I finished up the last transaction. “Officer Wilson?”
He gave me a sheepish smile, glancing at the line behind him. “You’re busy, but I came by to apologize for yesterday.”
My jaw dropped. This didn’t even look like the same man. The tension on his face was gone. His brown eyes had a lightness about them instead of the hard glint that had intimidated me the day before. The only similarity was the crisp uniform, his brass still perfectly polished.
“Give me just a moment please.”
I was reeling, stunned by his appearance. Robotically, I prepared his food, grateful for a moment to collect myself. He’d been so ready to give me a ticket yesterday, and now . . . I didn’t know what to do with his apology. Officer Wilson had caught me off guard. No man had ever apologized to me, no matter how wrong they were.
As I handed him his food, his expression was uncertain.
“I appreciate your apology,” I said, and his shoulders slumped. “This is on the house.”
His thick brows dipped into a deep V. “No. I can’t.”
“Your money’s no good here.” I pushed the lemonade toward him, offering a straw.
Still he pulled out his wallet, and I crossed my arms over my chest. “Please. I was out of line. I can’t let you pay for my meal.”
“You can. It’s easy. See.” I leaned over the counter and pressed the lemonade into his hand. His fingers curled around the cup.
“You don’t have to—”
“I’m not changing my mind.”
Reluctantly, he shoved his wallet back into his pocket and picked up the carton of food. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He strolled to a nearby bench and parked it to eat his lunch. As I served the next few customers, I glanced in his direction. Officer Wilson dwarfed the bench, his body a solid sheet of muscle. He took his time, savoring the bites that I caught him take.Thatwas why I did this. For the pleasure that eating something delicious could bring.
When there wasa lull in business, he sauntered back over to the window. I held out my hand for his cup and refilled it with lemonade.
“I’ll take a piece of coconut cake for the road too.”
