“Sorry, ma’am.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Was that a joke?”
A blush races up his neck. “Force of habit.”
“Fine. I’ll let you off with a warning. What’s up?”
“I’m headed out to get you a coffee. Want me to grab you lunch too?”
Only when he mentions food do I realize I haven’t eaten anything other than a bowl of cereal for breakfast. Sometimes, I get so distracted that I forget to feed myself.
“Yes, please.” I stand up from my chair and bend my spine backward, letting out a groan when I hear a series of cracks.
Bo’s face goes brick red.
Yeah, maybe I shouldn’t make those noises around my employees.
I search for my bag, finding it hanging off the arm of a chair, and I dig out my wallet and pull out some cash to pass to Bo. He’s diligent about bringing me back the receipt, even though I told him I believed him about how much a coffee cost.
I get the sense Bo is not used to being trusted.
That’s probably something to do with being a monster in Folk Haven close to two decades ago.
Even now, I know there’s a decent amount of mythics in town who shy away from monsters. Ones who judge inter-mythic relationships. I’ve seen the sneers behind my siblings’ backs when they’re holding hands with their mates.
I stare at those people, so they know I saw.
So they know I have their number.
But I also don’t stir shit because, to many here, I’m still an outsider. And I want to be a part of Folk Haven. Want this town to be my home in a way that the house I grew up in never was.
Maybe Bo is looking for the same.
After I hand him the cash for my coffee and food as well as the keys to my truck, he turns to go. But he pauses when I place a staying hand on his arm.
“There’s enough there for you to get food for yourself too. Why don’t we have lunch together when you get back?”
Bo blinks at me. “I … all right.” He nods. Then nods again, though his focus seems inward.
Is an invite to eat together really so shocking?
“It’s a plan.” I give him a gentle push toward the door. “And when you get back, I challenge you to interrupt me without apologizing.”
His smile is small and rueful.
Though I manage to sink back into my reading, I hear the front door open an hour later. Still, I pretend to be entirely absorbed in my work. Just to test him.
“Food’s here,” Bo announces.
I grin. “Good job. Let’s eat on the porch.”
The autumn day is lovely, sunny with only the slightest chill. Georgia falls are wonderful. An easing between seasons rather than an abrupt shift, like up in Maine, where I spent my childhood. Here, I get to enjoy the change of leaves for longer.
Bo got us bagels, and the delicious scent of poppy seeds and cream cheese rising from the bag makes my mouth water. Living in small-town Georgia means food options are limited, but I think the residents of Folk Haven have a few more options than most. Mythics from all over have relocated here and brought a variety of offerings with them.
“One-week performance review,” I say in an official tone.
Bo jerks his attention to me, his eyes wide, his cheeks puffed with the massive bite he just took.
