“Black. One sugar. Thanks.” Her warm brown gaze doesn’t leave the menu card.
“And anything to eat?
“Not sure yet,” I hedge. “We’ll let you know later.”
Theresa nods and backtracks toward the front counter through the narrow annex that connects the cafe’s central area to this smaller, conservatory-style room. Kyra sighs, setting the menu down to take stock of the plants sitting on the floor or hanging from various hooks on the walls. “Well. That was horrible.” She slides off her chair and crosses to one with red flowers that droop from small, dark green leaves.
“I think you did okay shutting her down politely.”
She shrugs. “I hate when people ask what I’ve been doing. Even more when they not so subtly point out how little Dad speaks of me.” Her tongue peeks out to wet her lips, and she draws a slow, deep breath as she catches her reflection in a painted mirror.
I figure a change of subject is in order if I don’t want her to shut right down. “You like houseplants, huh?”
Kyra’s head snaps around as though she’d been in a daze, a shy smile on her lips while she moves back to her seat. “I lived in a small apartment before, and there was only one good window that got morning sun. But it was near the cooktop, so anything I tried to grow either withered with the heat or suffered without enough daylight.”
“But you hope to have a few once you get a place of your own?”
“Yeah.” She sets her elbows on the table, fingers flexing between one another. “Hoping.”
I shift my gaze from the cloud blue tips of her nails to the small tattoo of a butterfly inside her wrist. “Any luck with the search?”
“I gave it a rest last night.” She draws back, leaning against her seat to set her hands on her lap. “Visited my grandmother and tolerated that line of questioning instead. You know, because it’s so much more fun than facing my problems head-on.”
Her dry humor has the corners of my mouth curl. “You think she would have been a cop, too, if it had been as welcoming to women in her time?”
“More like a P.I. Anything that puts her in anyone else’s business but hers.” Kyra smiles. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn bitter today you’d think I was sucking lemons all afternoon.”
An unwarranted vision of her suckingsomethingflitters through my mind. “Not at all. Change is hard.” I shrug. “Probably why I never did it.”
Damn straight, why I never did. I’d hardly call myself conflict-avoidant, but I never felt I had an argument strong enough to take to the old man about why I couldn’t join the club. It wasn’t my dream—it was his. But when I had no grand fantasy of my own, there seemed no point in avoiding the path he’d laid out for me.
“What do you plan to do now that you’re back?” I press. “Council work can’t be exciting enough to return to Temperance for.”
She huffs a small laugh. “No. It’s not.” Elbows to the table, she reaches for the menu card again and fusses with the frayed edges. “I have an income stream. It’s just… impossible to do while I’m here.”
“How so?” Do her parents not support her career? Did her employer not offer a transfer? What the hell could be the reason for giving up her source of income?
“It’s kind of hard to explain.” Her gaze flicks to me and then back to her hands. “It’s just online stuff, but I can’t do it now that I’m back in my parents’ house. No way.”
I glance at the plants surrounding us, the lush green foliage that makes her a fraction happier, and it clicks.
“Why don’t you do your work from here?”
EIGHT
KYRA
If I had a drink,I’d choke on it. Instead, saliva lodges in my airway, making me hack for my next breath. Jinx raises an eyebrow and reaches over to set his massive hand on my shoulder.
“You okay?”
I wave him off. “Fine. Sorry.”
“What the hell about what I said made you do that?”
If only he knew…“I can’t do my work here either. But it was a great suggestion. Thank you.”
“You know,” he starts, leaning back to hook his thumbs in his pockets. “I’m not exactly stupid, but I can be a little slow. And this whole riddle around what you do for a living has got me beat. What the hell do you do that you can’t do at your parents’ house, or here? Does it make too much noise?”
