Even knowing the likely consequence to her bodily systems, and the short circuit her brain might experience, she reached for the biceps of his left arm. “But you could be.”
He nodded. “I could be a lot of things. That doesn’t mean that’s what I want to be.”
Wasn’t that just the truth?
“Becca?” he asked.
She glanced up to him. “Yeah?”
“Have you considered teaching?” he asked. “When your vacation is over?”
She glanced down to the worn vinyl tile of the break room floor.
“Maybe,” she echoed him from earlier.
He held the door open for her. “Maybe?”
She slipped her shoes back on.
“Maybe.” She was definitely, absolutely not thinking about that now. Thoughts of future work had no place in her holiday.
Chapter 5
Becca
Becca climbed into her car, locked the door, and waved to the other waitress who had helped close up for the night. The other waitress had seniority, and the key to lock up.
Cold to her core, Becca shook a little in her parka as she turned over the ignition and cringed. She wasn’t a mechanic by any stretch. Really, aside from paint color, she didn’t know much about cars. But the motor sounded like she’d dropped a fork in the garbage disposal and turned it on. She immediately stopped trying because whatever that was didn’t sound healthy.
Blah. Stress levels were definitely rising here.
This was fine. She could 100 percent deal with this situation. One more time. She turned the key and…no. She quickly turned it off again.
Bless Brek for outfitting his parking lot with an abundance of lights and security cameras. Because at the moment, Becca couldn’t leave.
Literally. Unless she wanted to hoof it the four miles to her apartment.
The termapartmentwas definitely a loose generalization of the space. It was a makeshift studio that her parents had built above their garage. But it had a separate entrance, an abundance of insulation, and reminded her of simpler times when she didn’t have to worry about all of her stuff. Best of all, though, it saved her money.
Unlike her car, which she’d recently bought from what she’d expected was a reputable resale lot. Whatever was wrong would probably cost her a boatload of her weekly tips. She did a quick mental inventory of her bank account. She cringed and immediately stopped doing that.
Okay, solutions. She needed a solution. Unfortunately, internally cussing outmorningBecca for not charging her phone becausenighttimeBecca could really use a teeny bit of power to call for help, was not helpful. She dug through her purse, hoping morning Becca had remembered to tuck a cell charger there. Morning Becca had not. All nighttime Becca found was her wallet, two old sticks of Doublemint, and several lengths of leather she’d planned to tie into a necklace. She rubbed her hands over her face and slouched further in her seat.
“C’mon,” she said to the empty car. She would freeze if the puff of condensation from her breathing were any indication. Yoga pants were officially a bad idea. She needed to stick to jeans or snow pants. Or both.
“Don’t do this here. Not now.”
Linx’s Porsche was across the lot. He’d either caught a ride with someone or, maybe, he was nearby. He’d let her use his cell to help get her home. Though, she’d have to nosh on a little crow because then, according to the rules of Linx, she’d owe him one.
Wasn’t this just a pickle?
“Everything is fine.” Perhaps if she said that out loud enough times, it would prove true. “Fine. Fine. Fine.”
Gloved hands at ten and two, she let out a long breath before turning the key in the ignition one more time. The horrible sound started again.
Gah.
Looked like she was walking.
