“Thank you.” She lit up, and so did the entire room. “I like that. I’m going to hold on to the analogy.”
“Please do.” I finished the last of my drink and stood. “And because I want to be invited back to this deceivingly large home someday, I’m going to go.” It was close to dinnertime, and I didn’t want to make her feel obligated to cook or order food for us. Plus, she likely had other plans, and the leave ’em wanting more move felt like a good way to play it. It’s something I’d actually decided on before arriving. I hated the idea of wearing out my welcome.
“You don’t have to go,” she said, watching me from the couch.
“I’m sure you have somewhere exciting to be. It’s the weekend.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” She nodded and an unreadable expression crossed her features. “But I’m glad you came by. It’s nice getting to hear more about you. Make a new friend.”
“Yeah,” I said, hearing the softness in my voice. She did that to me. “I mean it when I say I’d like to do it again. Another drink. Another slice of homemade bread.”
“Now I’ve done it.”
“The bar is so high.”
We locked eyes and suddenly I didn’t want to go anywhere. Was it too late to take it back?
“I will relieve you of that,” she said of my glass. “And I’m sending the rest of the bread home with you.”
“Then it must be Christmas.”
“Just call me Mrs. Claus.”
Nope. Mrs. Claus had never been this sexy. And that’s what Carrie did to me. Sex comparisons with beloved childhood characters. She was that potent. “Well, since I have permission.” We walked to the front door and I rocked back on my heels. “See you soon?”
“Monday. Bright and early for you. A little later in the day for me.” She opened her arms and leaned in, pulling me against her. Was it wrong that I delayed letting go for probably a second longer than reasonable? She smelled amazing, like that same meadow of flowers I’d envisioned when I’d hit my head. I could get drunk on it. When I pulled back, there were her blue eyes looking back at me. Our faces were noticeably close and neither of us went out of our way to amend that. Steady yourself. I’d seen moments like this in movies but had never experienced one for myself. Time suspended, leaving Carrie and me, breathing in the same air, hovering somewhere close to perfect for just a select few seconds of wonder. She adjusted a strand of hair on my shoulder and took a step back. She’d noticed it, too. That little move proved it. I lifted my hand in farewell and wordlessly headed back down the sidewalk in an unfortunate careening to the humdrum of my normal life. I relived that last lingering moment over and over, a little slice of heaven for me to take out and hold whenever I wanted. And I did lots of wanting. Of all varieties.
Chapter Seven
Who in the world is talking?” Grace asked, blinking at me from the passenger seat in my car. She had her dark hair in two french braids and a picture of SpongeBob at a disco on her purple T-shirt. My little cousin was brilliant, kind, and adorable. Because of that combination, she easily pulled off her own quirky fashion and even made it look great. All she was missing was the tuba she’d mastered in the marching band.
I pointed to my new car addition. “A police scanner. The station hooked me up with one when I asked. That way I can make sure that I don’t miss anything I could be covering.”
“This is all very Kristen Welker of you.”
I quirked an eyebrow. She was sixteen. “You know who Kristen Welker is?”
“Skyler, I watch the news. You know I’m in debate, right? Welker is my hero. She’s goals.”
I did know the debate part. The kid had more after-school activities than an actual school bus, which was why I was playing shuttle service. Emory, recovering from her lumpectomy, had her second round of radiation that day, and Sarah was with her. I was glad that they’d finally taken me up on my offer for backup help with Grace. She had her license, but no one exactly trusted her behind the wheel just yet. There was rumor of a lead foot and a fascination with race cars that I could one hundred percent imagine. That was Grace, future valedictorian who would also smoke you in a drag race and laugh about it. Fearless.
As we drove, the scanner kicked on, and I turned it up just to check in. Another robbery. This time the suspect made off with sixty dollars in fives from the register. He’d grabbed the one stack and had taken off before grabbing the rest. Huh. You’d think he’d at least grab the twenties if he was going to take one. I looked over at Grace. “How would you feel about a detour to check on a robber who was too terrified to take what he came for?”
She nodded in the direction of the road ahead of us. “I say, take me to this place.”
It wasn’t a convenience store this time, but rather a small grocery store with a large assortment of fruit. Grace snagged an apple and handed over a dollar to the cashier. The police had come and gone, but the owner was incredibly eager to speak with me. I got Ty on the phone and had him video the guy as he ranted about the youth of today and the boy who’d stolen his fives. The description matched. A kid who was nervous as hell.
“Could you see his face?” I asked.
“He’s a rugrat hooligan. A child,” the man practically bellowed as Ty rolled. “He was waving a pistol around and had no idea what to do with it. I saw tufts of blond hair under his hood. Barking at me to hand over the cash. Someone could have been hurt or worse. We need this guy off the street. Now!”
“That’s a great sound bite,” Grace whispered, and I was proud of her for recognizing that. This was the first time someone had mentioned the danger this kid posed. I had Ty bank the footage and thought it was time I talked with Kristin about the story. We might have enough, and it was time to get this guy off the street, which just might happen if I could get the stores to release stills of the guy from surveillance.
“Wait, so there’s a kid named Seth botching robberies all over the city?” Kristin stirred her coffee as she mulled over my pitch.
I was pumped, on a high, and probably talking too fast. “That’s what it’s starting to look like. A young kid who is clearly out of his depth is showing up at small stores, misfiring his gun, and running out of the place with next to nothing. Then does it all again in a week.”
“Seth?”
“Right? It’s not the toughest name, which is why it gives the story a hook.” I was bouncing and could feel it. “Can I formally move forward? Thoughts?”
She waved her spoon at me. “Sure. Can you get it to me for tonight?”
I winced. “Maybe.”