“I know.”
I laugh softly.“Right.”
He leans one forearm on the counter, watching me.“You okay?”
The question catches me off guard.Because I am.Tired, yes.But not frayed down to nothing the way I would have been without him.“Yeah,” I say honestly.“Better than I would’ve been.”
His gaze shifts to Quinn, who’s curled up on the bench by the window hugging her rabbit and blinking slowly.
“She was good.”
“She was bored.”
“She made a crown.”
I smile.“She did.”
He looks back at me.
“She likes you.”The words slip out before I can stop them.
He doesn’t smile.Doesn’t act pleased with himself.Just says, “I like her too.”There’s nothing slick in it.Nothing performative.Just truth.
And because that kind of honesty is hard to defend against, I look back down at the money in my hands and pretend I’m concentrating very hard.
When I finally finish closing up, we head outside together.
The evening is soft and warm, the sky streaked with pink and orange over the lot.Quinn perks up enough to insist on walking to the car herself, though she’s dragging by the time we reach it.
Tucker opens her door, waits while I buckle her in, then closes it gently.When I straighten, he’s there.Close.Not crowding me.Just there.
The parking lot suddenly feels very quiet.“Thank you,” I say.
Again.I really need more words around him.
He shrugs slightly.“Wasn’t hard.”
“It saved my entire shift.”
He watches me for a second.
Then, “Good.”
I should get in the car.Go home.Make dinner.Do bath time, bedtime, all the normal things that make up my life.
Instead I’m standing beside my car with a biker who has slowly, steadily worked his way under my skin, and I can’t seem to make myself break the moment.
Tucker glances toward Quinn, then back to me.
“When are you free?”
I blink.
“What?”
“When are you free,” he repeats.
My heart starts pounding.
