“I’ll try,” I promise.
Sawyer walks with me toward our cars, parked a few spaces apart in the small lot.
“Thanks for the heads-up about the library event,” I say, loading my bags into the backseat. “I really would have missed it otherwise.”
“No problem. I figured you’d be interested.”
There’s a moment of hesitation, both of us standing by our cars like we’re not quite ready to end the conversation. Finally, Sawyer clears his throat.
“Drive safe, Alicat.”
“Yes sir,” I reply, grinning.
I’m halfway home when my phone buzzes with a text from an unfamiliar number. I wait until I’m parked in my driveway to check it.
Unsaved Number: Library - Thursday @ 6. You’re buying the coffee after ;)
The presumption should annoy me, but instead I find myself smiling as I type back:
Me: Pretty confident for someone who hasn’t even asked me yet.
Sawyer: I’m asking now. Coffee after the library?
I stare at the screen for a moment, thumb hovering over the keyboard.
This is a date. He's asking me on a date.
And I want to say yes.
Me: Yes, but I’m picking the place.
Sawyer: Deal. I was just joking about you buying the coffee. I got you covered.
Me: We’ll see about that.
As I gather my grocery bags and head inside, I’m still smiling. For the first time in a long time, I have plans to look forward to. Real plans, with someone who makes me laugh and doesn’t make me feel like I have to guard every word.
Maybe Madison was right. Maybe I do deserve someone who looks at me like I'm the only person in the room.
I lock the door behind me. Check the windows. The street is quiet.
For now, I'm safe. For now, I can let myself be happy.
This could be dangerous.
Chapter 16
Alice
ThePineHollowsMusicFestival is exactly what you’d expect from a small town. String lights hanging between the trees, food trucks parked around the community center, and local bands playing on a makeshift stage. Madison dragged me here after work, insisting I needed to “get out and have some fun.”
“This is actually kind of nice,” I admit, watching people dance while kids run around with cotton candy.
“See? I told you.” Madison nudges me with her elbow. “Look, there’s your cop friend.”
I follow her gaze and see Sawyer near the beer tent with another officer—sandy blonde hair, easy grin, clearly charming someone nearby. My stomach does that flip thing it always does when I see him. They’re both in uniform, clearly working the event.
“He’s not my cop friend,” I say, but I’m already smoothing down my sweater. “He’s just a customer at the bank.”
