“What about Friday?”
She shook her head. “Afternoon turn.”
“I’ll be coming off night shift. What if we go biking in the morning? Have lunch together before you go to work?”
“All right.” She supposed it was some subtle inflection in her voice that made him suspicious of her answer, or maybe it was just that she answered so quickly.
“You have a bike, don’t you?”
“I will.”
“Ah. When’s the last time you rode one?”
“Does spin class count?”
“No.”
“Then I was six and it had training wheels.”
He gave a short laugh. “Okay. Don’t buy a bike. I’ll think of something. Be ready at eight. I’ll pick you up after I change from my shift.”
Ramsey nodded but then sucked in her lower lip and betrayed her uncertainty.
“What is it?” he asked.
“We’re really going to do this? A second date? I’ve only ever had two second dates since I moved here.”
Sullivan’s head jerked a little in surprise. “Two? That’s it?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Your choice or theirs?”
“Mostly mine, I suppose.”
“Then three dates would be a first for you.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“Right.” He swooped in, ducking his head for another kiss, this one like punctuation at the end of a sentence. A period, not a question mark. “Good night, Ramsey.”
“Good night, Sullivan.”
She walked around the car and headed for the porch. There was no point in telling him not to wait until she was in the house; he would do it anyway and she really didn’t mind. She pulled her keys out of her clutch and used one to turn the door lock and the other to turn the deadbolt. She glanced over her shoulder as she let herself in. Yes, he was still there, standing beside the driver’s side door now, leaning casually against the car, his arms folded across his chest. She thought he might have smiled, but she couldn’t be sure with the street light at his back. Her heart stuttered once and then she disappeared.
11
Ramsey leaned comfortablyagainst the wall near the entrance to the Ridge’s Starbuck’s café. She held an iced mocha latte between her hands and occasionally took a sip. This was perhaps her favorite spot in the store. She could drink her coffee and scan the aisles. It hardly felt like work.
Her position gave her an unobstructed view of the self-checkout stations. Personally, she never used them, but lots of people did, and many of them thought they could scam the system.
One particular customer caught her eye. Ramsey made her to be in her early thirties. The woman was a bottle blonde who hadn’t attended to her much darker roots for at least a month. Ramsey idly wondered if she was letting her natural color grow out or if other matters in her life had taken on a new, higher priority. This customer did not have the obvious signs of drug use. Neither did she carry the weighty burden of poverty that slumped shoulders and added careworn lines to even young faces. She was small enough to put Ramsey in mind of Kay Dobbs, which was not a point in the woman’s favor. She wore jean shorts, a white spaghetti strap tank topped by a boyfriend shirt, and strappy sandals with a two-inch heel. She sported long nails that may or may not have been all her own, but they looked like eagle talons dipped in the blood of prey. Ramsey narrowed the color down to either Crimson Tide or The Red Pool.
While Ramsey watched and sipped her coffee, the woman began to empty her loaded cart. The products she was scanning and bagging were varied. There was something from almost every department. Ramsey categorized and alphabetized them in her head. Clothes and cosmetics and cleaning supplies. Over-the-counter remedies and outdoor equipment. DVDs, dishtowels, and detergent. Pillows and plants and pots and plates. And then there was the food. It was in a category all its own.
As the woman selected item after item to scan, Ramsey was put in mind of a clown car or even more apropos, the magic satchel that Hermione carried inHarry Potter and the Deathly Hallowsfrom which she was able to produce every kind of thing.
It occurred to Ramsey that the woman was setting up a new living situation. She was not wearing a wedding band so maybe she’d left her things behind when she left her boyfriend. It happened. Ramsey worked out an entire backstory for the woman while she continued to scan and bag. By the time the customer was prepared to run her card or insert her cash, Ramsey had developed a heart-tugging scenario that could have been fodder for a soap opera or a Nicholas Sparks novel.
