The woman reached out and lifted the licence to peer at the address. She raised an eyebrow. “I wish he did, but no. We just moved in a few weeks ago. Maybe he didn’t get his address changed?”
Emma should’ve been disappointed, but her heart flipped hopefully in her chest.Not married?“No worries, thanks so much.”
“Good luck.” The woman smiled and pushed the door closed.
Emma groaned and stalked back to her car. This was stupid. She should’ve left the licence at the grocery store and been done with it or taken it to the police station like Betty White had suggested in the bakery.
This wasn’t a cheesy rom-com, and she most definitely wasn’t a Kate Hudson look-alike or whoever was acting in those movies these days.When had she last sat down and watched a rom-com?Maybe she was overdue.
No, the reason she’dstoppedwatching them was because of moments like this—unrealistic expectations born of addictive plotlines and excellent editing. This was Calgary. In the middle of March.
While it had lifted her spirits to know that men with faces like Tyler Bowen, who was only three years older than she was and apparently shopped at the same grocery store, could exist in this world, it was time to pop the bubble. She’d go home, unload her groceries, eat a protein bar, and drive to the RCMP at Country Hills. Because what else did she have to do on a Friday night besides avoid rom-coms and learn how to chop kale?
Ten minutes later, she pulled into her parking garage and rode the elevator up to her apartment with groceries in hand and Tyler’s licence slipped into her leggings pocket next to her phone. She was following her plan to a T until she made the mistake of sitting down on her new loveseat. It was too comfortable with its high-performing fabric and fuzzy throw blanket, and her legs were dead from shooting all week at the studio.
She needed to get up. Return the licence, then she could shower and pull on pajamas and watch non-romantic movies as long as she wanted. She checked one last notification on her phone. Lindsey had sent her a reel, which meant she’d be watching either a cute animal video or a clip of Ryan Reynolds. In her current deprived state, she hoped for the former.
Emma clicked and wasn’t disappointed. A seal slapping its belly with the caption, “Me every night after dinner.” She sent three cry-laugh emojis, then lifted her finger to swipe out of the app. Her finger hovered as that feeling ofI’m about to steal a cookie from the cookie jarwashed over her.
Instead of leaving her social media feed, she navigated to the home screen and clicked on the magnifying glass. She glanced around her living room, suddenly positive that there was a hidden camera somewhere. Could she ever admit toanyonethat she was doing this?
Emma’s heart raced as she typed “Tyler Bowen” before she could talk herself out of it, then pressed the search button.It was only his name.Public record. She wasn’t going to send him a friend request or—
Her breath caught in her throat. There he was. Six-foot-three Tyler. His dark hair mussed, that same chiselled jawline from his photo. Hazel eyes.Whaaaaat?She probably could have read that on his licence, but since she was agood person, she hadn’t looked. She exhaled in a rush and clicked on his photo.
There weren’t any pictures or updates besides his profile picture and a few articles someone had tagged him in. All hockey-related.Did he play?He looked to have all his teeth, but her brother Carter had fooled plenty of girls with his tooth attached to a retainer, so she couldn’t know for sure if they were real of not.
Her thumb hovered over the message button. He didn’t seem to be posting regularly on social media, but he had commented on the articles. Maybe he got notifications? If she sent him a quick note letting him know she’d found his licence, there was at least a chance he’d see it. And if he didn’t write back by the time she folded the load of laundry in the dryer, she’d hop in the car and drop it off at the police station.
Decision made. Emma tapped the button and began typing.
Hi Tyler, you don’t know me, but I know a lot about you!
She snorted and deleted that last part.
Hi Tyler, you don’t know me, but I found your driver's licence in the parking lot of the Co-op off Country Hills Blvd. today. The store was planning to hold on to it, but I thought you were adorable and wanted to see you in person
Delete.
Hi Tyler, you don’t know me, but I wanted to save you a trip to the Registry if possible. If I don’t hear back, I’ll drop it at the police station in the Village. The grandma picking out donuts in the bakery told me that was the place to drop it, and I decided to trust her
However, her decision to purchase grocery store donuts is suspect and, frankly, un-Canadian
Emma
She did a quick scan for typos, then pressed send and set her phone on the side table. Her heart raced as she walked into the hall and opened the door to pull her clothes from the dryer.Why were her hands shaking?That message would probably end up in the voids of the internet, and in a half hour, she’d be driving to drop his licence to an officer.
Emma had folded exactly two towels and one long-sleeved shirt when her phone dinged. Probably Lindsey again, and while the seal had been adorable, she wasn’t especially in the mood.
Another ding.
She looped her black jeans over her arm and marched back to the end table for her phone. Emma read the banner on the screen, and her jeans hit the floor.
A message.
From Tyler Bowen.
ChapterTwo
