The woman to my right gives me an odd look and shifts a few inches away from me.
Great. Now I’m makingheruncomfortable.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “Bad day.” Then I try to work my features into a more pleasantI’m really not a weirdoon the subwayexpression and flash a quick smile at her.
From inside my messenger bag, my phone buzzes. Glad for the distraction, I rummage through the mess I keep meaningto organize—do I really need the sewing kit my aunt insisted I carry? And three containers of hand sanitizer?—and snatch up my phone.
On the screen, there’s a message from my old boss and mentor, Brian.
Hey, it’s been a while. Just wanted to check in. How’s it going?
I hesitate for a few seconds before responding.
Really good. Got three new cases this week. Weather’s still FREEZING. I think you had the right idea moving down south.
The three dots on the screen blink momentarily.
It’s not that warm. The high was only sixty-seven today.
I smile at his response. Brian retired two years ago and moved to Sarasota so he could be closer to his son, Ethan, and his two little grandsons. And somehow, in just two years, Brian’s forgotten how stinking cold it is in New York City in January.
Only sixty-seven? It was twenty-seven when I left for work. Anyway, how’s the family?
A few seconds pass before his reply appears.
They’re amazing. Ethan and I took the boys to a race the other day. They loved it.
My smile expands. Though I still miss Brian, I’m glad he’s enjoying his retirement. It was a blow at first, when he told meabout his plans to retire to Florida and turn over the business to me.
We’d been working together for over ten years, ever since he took me on as an assistant in his PI agency straight out of college. Brian taught me everything I know about the business. He believed in me when I wasn’t sure I could believe in myself. And the idea of running A-1 Investigations without him was intimidating.
“You can do it,”he insisted back then.“You’re ready. And you know all about this computer stuff. You can take A-1 Investigations to the next level, if you want to.”
Two years on, I’m not sure I’ve taken it to the next level yet. But the business is still afloat. It might be a struggle sometimes doing it all on my own, save for a monthly appointment with the accountant, but I haven’t let Brian down yet.
I’m halfway through typing my response when a voice above me draws my attention.
“Hey. Mind if I sit here?”
Oh, no.
It’s the staring guy from across the aisle.
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond, just plops down into the empty seat to my left. His cologne hits me smack in the nose, the strong aroma making my eyes water a little.
“You have a beautiful smile,” he continues. “A beautiful smile for a beautiful girl.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, for lack of a better reply. Then I fix my attention back on my phone, hoping he’ll get the message.
He doesn’t.
“You have beautiful hair, too,” he adds. “Kind of like Snow White. In the kids’s story. You know?”
“I do know Snow White,” I tell him. “And thank you. But if you don’t mind, I was texting?—”
“Where are you headed?” he interrupts. “I’m getting off at Eighty-sixth. There’s a decent bar near the station. Want to grab a drink with me?”
I study the man for a second. He’s attractive enough in a conventional way. Blond hair, brown eyes, square features—I can imagine him picking up a woman in a bar without too much trouble. Not me, though. If I was looking for a man, which I’m not, I’d want someone with dark hair and bright blue eyes and a strong jaw. A man well over six feet, with muscles to spare, and?—
