Molly looks up from her phone, eyeing the camping store logo on the bag.
“Are you okay?” she asks, reaching out to touch my arm. I slide back into the booth, savoring the feel of her fingers against my skin.
“Yeah, this is for you.” I hand it over, watching as she peeks inside. It’s a small gel pack that when cracked generates heat.
“I don’t understand.”
I gesture to her stomach. “For your cramps. It gets really hot. Sam and I used them when we were camping in Alaska last month. Would have frozen my toes off if not for those buggers.”
She blinks, staring at me for a beat. “You bought me a hot pack?”
“Yeah.”
She glances down at the bag again. “Oh.”
I don’t get to question her reaction as the waitress returns to drop two mugs of coffee and a brownie on the table before whisking off to the next customer.
I wrap my hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into my palms. Across from me, Molly breaks the gel and places it against her abdomen before lifting her mug to take a sip of her coffee. As I watch, her eyes fluttering shut as she makes a low sound of pleasure. I try not to notice the way it sends a jolt straight through me.
“What do you normally teach in that class?” I ask, picking up my fork and cutting the brownie in half.
“Business and finance,” she says, setting her mug down. “Last semester they learned how to assess business decisions, build marketing plans, design project timelines and product launches, recruit—practical things they’ll need if they secure a job. This semester is all the financial aspects.”
I lift a forkful of brownie to my mouth, pausing to ask, “Are they all employed?”
She shrugs. “Some of them. They’re?—”
“Ahlemna,” I interrupt, groaning as the taste of the brownie hits me. It’s rich, moist, and decadently chocolatey, the kind of dessert that makes you close your eyes and savor it. I swallow, immediately diving in for another bite. “This is the best brownie I’ve ever had.”
Molly bursts out laughing, deep and throaty, the kind of laugh that makes the world seem brighter.
I can’t help but grin.
Maybe I should write a rom-com, I think, half-wondering how Sam would react to that.
“I told you this place was good,” she says, still smiling.
“You said good, not nirvana.”
Her grin widens as she picks up her fork and takes a bite of her half. I watch the fork lift to her lips, momentarily transfixed by the way her mouth curves around the brownie.
“Don’t look so distressed,” she chuckles, catching my expression. “We can order another one.”
I make a mental note of the address. These guys are about to gain a new regular.
“Anyway,” I say, forcing myself to focus, “back to your students.”
She swallows her bite, letting out a small sigh. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Try,” I encourage, leaning back in my seat.
Her brow furrows as she searches for the words.
“They’re a mix,” she says. “Some are employed, some are unemployed. Some are caring for kids, siblings, or parents. Others work under the table. They’re just kids trying to survive the shitty hand life dealt them.”
I tap the side of my mug, thinking. “You know my ma wasn’t so different from those kids.”
She smiles, soft and knowing. “Who do you think signed me up for the classes?”
