She took the rest of our order—an asparagus and arugula salad for me and a cheeseburger for Desmond—and left.
“It looks like most of the women in New York are smitten by you,” I observed as he looked at me with an expression that was part-embarrassed and part-smug.
“Barring one,” he said, with a pointed look at me and I laughed.
“Thank goodness for that,” I said, and noticed a subtle change in his expression at my flippant remark, before it was quickly gone.Was he offended by that?
Realizing the conversation was getting a little too cozy, I searched around for another topic, but Desmond beat me to it.
“Flattered as I am by the direction your conversation with Misty took,” he began, “did I miss the part where you grilled her about Kyle?”
“I was just warming myself up,” I protested. “I can’t ask strangers incessant questions about my ex-boyfriend like a maniac.”
He raised his eyebrows. “So, now?” he asked.
“Now, Misty isn’t a stranger anymore,” I said simply. “She’s a witness. Who’ll ensure you walk out of this building with all body parts intact.”
He groaned and looked away. “Ava, you still have a terrible sense of humor.”
“You are still always in a hurry.” I grinned just as Misty came back with our fries.
She set it on the table and flipped her hair over her shoulder as she turned to go and then leaned down to give me a small nudge. “See? I flung my hair over and everything, and he didn’t even bat an eyelid,” she teased.
Desmond groaned. “Somebody, help me.”
Misty laughed and looked at me. “The rest of your food should be out soon. If you need anything …” She paused at the look on my face. “Yes?”
I hesitated. “This is going to sound really crazy, so please don’t mistake me for a nutcase?—”
“Oh, I’m sorry, but I don’t do threesomes,” Misty said immediately, looking concerned.
Desmond burst into laughter while my jaw fell to the floor.
“This is why we get to the point instead ofwarming yourself up,” Desmond said when the laughter died off his lips.
He turned to Misty, taking charge of the conversation. “Do you know a man named Kyle Whitby?” He gestured to me. “She’s his ex. Ava Hale.”
“He dumped me,” I offered, taking a sip of my water. “Apparently I’m psychotic.”
Misty pocketed a pen and frowned. “If you’re the psychotic one, then your ex is the devil incarnate.”
Interesting.
I took another sip of my water and turned to Desmond. “It sounds like she does know Kyle, doesn’t it?”
Fifteen minutes later,we’d gotten Kyle’s last known phone number, the number of his manager at the McDonald’s on South Congress Avenue in Austin, and information that Kyle had made off with three of Misty’s most expensive pieces of jewelry.
“The manager at McD’s is a fantastic woman. She ought to help you find out more,” Misty said before heading back to her job.
She got a thirty percent tip and a job offer to work at The Galley when it eventually reopened, which she politely declined.
“I’ll be heading to LA in six months for an acting workshop,” she said with a smile before we parted ways.
Desmond and I sat silently in the car on our way back to work. The box of coats was still here, and it would be going back home with me later that evening.
“You know,” I began, my voice more vulnerable than it had been this past hour, “when I found out it was you who invested in The Galley, I was surprised, to be honest. And worried. Given?—”
“How I broke up with you,” Desmond finished for me.
