“Where else do I have to be?” For the first time in their strange acquaintance, he smiled at her for real, with teeth and everything. Despite her concern for Byron, she almost fell out of her chair at how damn attractive he looked when he wasn’t frowning at her.
“You know a lot about the Mayo Clinic. Did you—”
The buzzing of her phone cut her off, and she scooped it up. A fraction of the tension drained from her neck and shoulders as she read the text.
“Richard’s in an Uber on the way to the airport. He’ll send an update once he’s there.” When she took a final swig of now-cold coffee and stood, Erik stood too.
“Thanks again for…” Blood rushed to her cheeks at the memory of this quiet stranger’s hand warming her with his simple, calming touch. Her flustered reaction made no sense whatsoever, so she rushed to finish her sentence in the most neutral way she could think of. “Thanks for the laptop. I’ll give Richard your number so he can call to talk cake when he’s ready.”
“Sounds good.”
“Okay then. See you maybe.” She got three steps from the table when something occurred to her and she whipped around. Even seated, he was a head taller than anyone else in this crowded coffee shop. “Thanks for quitting today.”
That earned her another smile, smaller than before, although it still crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I handled it.”
“That you did.” She smiled back, then left to continue worrying in the privacy of her apartment.
Five
This was dumb.
This was dumb, and he shouldn’t do it.
Yet there went his thumbs, acting independently of his brain, tapping out the text message he’d been mulling over sending for days, mostly because he was a decent human being, partly because he needed the business, and a tiny sliver because he had a perverse need to see what Josie Redhead would be like over text.
How’s your friend’s fiancé?
The deed done, he dropped his phone like it was as hot as that red hair of hers had looked under the sun streaming through the coffeehouse windows on Saturday. Would she somehow try to pick a fight with him via emoji? The thought made him chuckle quietly even as the rational part of his brain reminded him that no good had ever come from him interacting with a woman like her in anything other than a professional capacity.
Yeah, he shouldn’t have sent that fucking text.
The thought had him pacing the length of his apartment, which took him all of five steps. “Paltry” overstated the percent of his financial resources he’d been willing to allocate for housing in Chicago, and the coffin-sized living space reflected that. Still, it meant when his phone rang from across the room, he was able to reach it in two seconds.
“You answer texts with a call?” he grumbled.
Josie’s laughter tickled his ear. “And you answer the phone without saying hello.”
He grunted, and after a beat she got the hint and picked up the conversational ball.
“Thank you for asking. Byron’s going to be okay.”
“Good.” And he meant it, even though he didn’t know Richard or his fiancé at all. Just seeing the man’s distress on Saturday morning had been enough to keep them on his mind.
Josie wasn’t done with her report. “He’s got a concussion, broken ribs, a broken pelvis. Richard’s going to telecommute from Rochester for at least a few weeks while Byron’s recuperating at Mayo. And do you know what’s wild?”
Wild was Erik having a conversation with Josie Redhead on the phone. Everything about her, from her fashionable clothes to her friendly chatter to her fight-me attitude, should’ve made him run in the opposite direction. But instead of ending the call, he waited for her to tell him.
After a long couple of seconds, she sighed. “C’mon, Man Bun. You’re supposed to answer with a ‘What?’ or an ‘I don’t know.’”
He wasn’t a nickname guy. “I don’t know. What?” He flopped on his couch in irritation, and it creaked as he searched for a comfortable spot.
“Why, thank you for asking.” She laughed. “What’s wild is that I volunteered to take care of the last of their wedding details while they’re both out of town.”
She paused, and Erik forced himself to make the effort. “Why’s that wild?” Look at him, chatting on the phone with a girl. If only Pops could see him now, he might’ve worried about his solitary, long-haired grandson a little less.
“It’s wild because I’m the perpetually single lady in our group,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’ve never even come close to getting engaged, let alone married, and they’re leavingmein charge of all the details until they’re back? Madness!”
From the little he’d seen, she was an emotionally expressive woman with fancy shoes and lots of hair. That basically described every bride he’d ever worked with. She might not appreciate that comparison though, so he packed away the comment.
