Ignoring the question, I go to my fridge where I stashed my last batch of weird-looking fruit. There’s a hole-in-the-wall Asian market near Portland where I buy them each time I travel for car parts. “Rambutan and what else?” I repeat.
“You really don’t need to?—”
“Hazel.”
“Tater tots,” she says after pausing. “The Cajun-spiced ones Mason has at the brewpub.”
“On it.” If I order online, I can pick them up on my way to her place. “Anything else?”
She pauses. “If you have more rambutan?—”
“Got it.”
“Thank you,” she says. “I really appreciate this, Luke. I’ll Venmo you for the tots, and I can pay for the time you spend assembling the cr?—”
“Say one more word about paying me and you can kiss your damn rambutan goodbye.” I’m not her goddamn hired help. “I’m the girls’ father and your platonic co-parenting partner—you got that?”
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
“Willow,” I say. “I’m really liking the tree names.”
“Dammit, Luke.”
“I’ll see you in thirty minutes.” I click off and pull up the app for Big One’s. Mason launched it last week, and it comes in handy. After placing the order, I grab my toolbelt and the chilled bag of rambutan. Then I hop in my truck and head for the brewery.
When I duck into Big One’s, the big guy himself stands behind the bar drying glasses.
“Hey, buddy!” Mason sets down the pint glass and puts out a hand for a palm slap. “Thought I saw your order come through.”
“Got a tater tot craving.” No need to say it’s not mine.
“Cool. Those should be up in just a sec. Want a beer while you wait?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
He goes back to drying the glasses. “Did you hear about Hazel?”
“My Hazel?” Why the fuck did I say that? “Hazel Spencer, you mean?”
He gives me a curious look. “Didn’t know you guys were dating.”
“We’re not. Please don’t repeat that.”
Mason chuckles. “I just meant she got named to some big-shot boss lady list. Can’t remember what it’s called. Thought you might’ve heard about it, since you work for Spencer Development and all.”
“Hadn’t heard, but we don’t work that closely together.”
“Gotcha.” He’s wearing his regular, casual smile, but curiosity lights his eyes. “Erika says she’s been kinda scarce lately. Came back from Croatia and basically locked herself in her office. Guess she’s been working long hours. Hope everything’s okay.”
If he’s looking to me for the gossip, he’ll go home emptyhanded. My guess is that Hazel’s avoiding situations where someone might notice she’s starting to show. “I’m sure she’s fine. Those tater tots ready?”
“Lemme go check.” He wanders off into the kitchen and comes back a few minutes later with a big paper bag. “We threw in some extras, since I know how you love ‘em.”
“Thanks. Could I get some ranch?”
Mason lifts one sandy brow. “Usually you’re a ketchup guy.”
“Some of that, too.” God, it’s a small town. I need to get out of here before I give something away. “Tell Erika hey for me.”
