I stare at the screen, a smile spreading across my face before I can stop it.
Who is this?
The reply comes almost instantly.
Your hunting partner. Or did you find a replacement for me already?
My fingers hover over the keyboard, suddenly unsure what to say. I want to sound casual, not desperate.
The rooster’s been suspiciously quiet. I think he misses being chased.
I add his number to my contacts, naming him simply “J.”
That makes one of us.
I bite my lip, trying to decipher if he means he doesn’t miss the chase, or that he does miss… something else.
How’s New Hampshire treating you?
I stare at my phone, watching those three dots appear and disappear as he types. My heart shouldn’t be racing this fast over a text message.
Cold. Wet. The crew’s behind schedule because of rain.
Sounds miserable.
It is.
I wait for him to say more, but nothing comes. Typical. Even through text, he’s a man of few words. I’m about to set my phone down when it buzzes again.
The coffee here is terrible.
The corners of my mouth twitch upward. Coming from him, that’s practically a love letter to Moons’ Diner.
Roman will be thrilled to hear his mud water is missed.
Don’t tell him that. His ego’s big enough.
I laugh out loud, the sound echoing in the empty diner. Roman would love this.
Your secret’s safe with me.
How are things there?
I consider telling him about Dick’s lingering presence today, the unsettled feeling I’ve had since our encounter in the parking lot. But I don’t want to sound like I need rescuing.
Same old Big Love. Quiet without you stomping around next door.
I don’t stomp.
You absolutely do. Like a moody sasquatch.
Three dots appear, disappear, then reappear.
Maybe I miss your trespassing.
My breath catches. It’s the closest thing to flirting we’ve done since he left, and it feels significant somehow.
Maybe I miss being caught.
