She turns to me, and the moment her eyes land on me, her face brightens with a welcoming smile. “Well, hello there.”
“Nice to meet you.” I nod at her dinner companions and hold the purse up to her eye level. I have no interest in wasting time on pleasantries. I desperately need to make sure she has my glove. “Here’s your bag.” I thrust it toward her, not hesitating a second to ask, “Do you still have Kaci’s bag?”
“I do.” She shakes her head, a foolish chuckle escaping out of her lips. “I have no idea how this mix-up happened, but I’m sure glad it got fixed before I even realized there was a problem.”
“Right.” I clench my teeth, realizing she’s content to drag out this interaction.
“And you are the sweetest gentleman for making sure my purse was returned.” She gives me a tilt of her head while her smile lingers.
“Uh, you’re welcome.” I shift my weight from my left foot to my right and casually lean over the side of the table to see if Kaci’s bag is on the other side of the booth.
I don’t see it at all.
This could be bad.
What if she lost it? My heartbeat ramps up, and I ask again, “Do you have the other purse?”
“I do.” Her chin dips into a deep nod, but she still doesn’t move to gather it.
“Can I have it?” My words are slow at first, but then I rush to add, “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m babysitting my nephew. He’s sitting all alone at that table, and I need to get back to him.”
“Oh.” She peruses the tables until she spots Rigsby, and she finally reaches under the table and pulls out an over-sized black purse. It’s zipped up tight at the top. I can’t tell if my glove is in it, but it’s awfully full of something. “Here you go.” She extends the bag to me, and I quickly take it. The bag slams to the ground. It’s so heavy it feels like bricks are in it. How she didn’t wonder about the weight when she grabbed the wrong one is beyond me.
“Thanks so much.” I back away from the table, tossing up a hand in a quick wave goodbye before pivoting and unzipping the bag as I hurry back to my booth.
It’s the moment of truth.
So much is riding on this reveal.
Is my glove here?
The zipper pulls hard and gets caught on something.
I tug, but it still won’t budge.
Do I feel bad busting in Kaci’s purse?
No, not at all, because I rescued it for her.
When I reach the table, I plop the bag down, adjust my grip, and yank on the zipper with all my might—and it releases, snapping the zipper off the track. I can see inside the bag and my glove is. . . in it!
A cold sheen of sweat dots my brow. I snatch the glove from the bag, place the bag next to me on the booth, and drop down to sit, practically cradling the glove in my hands.
Not going to lie.
If I wasn’t in public, I might kiss it.
“There you are,” a frantic female voice spats from behind me. I turn my head the slightest. Kaci is tugging her daughter in the same manner I’ve been tugging Rigsby along all morning.
With triumph, I snatch her purse handle and hold it up. “Got it!”
Her free hand flies to cover her heart, and her eyelashes flutter as if she’s blinking back tears. “What a relief.” Her words come out with a deep exhalation.
I hand the purse over and take note of how her eyes snag on the broken zipper. Feeling bad I broke it, even though it was an accident, I offer her an apologetic smile. “I had an accident opening it to get my glove, but I promise I didn’t take anything. It only looks like you were mugged.”
“Ah.” Her fingers rub the split seam that leaves a gaping hole. “I don’t even care about this. My whole life is in the bag.” Her hand dives in and rummages around as she inventories her things. When she’s content with what she sees, her gaze slopes back at me. “Thank you for grabbing it.”
“Yeah, you bet.” I flick my hand in a dismissive gesture, as if this was the easiest thing in the world to do in the middle of my workday.
