“Everything okay?” she asked.
“I think so.” He swiped out of the open tab before crossing to the dresser and setting his phone down.
“Do you want me to—”
“Stay for breakfast?” he interrupted, before she could offer to leave. The mattress dipped as he sat beside her, cupping her hip with one hand. His phone buzzed from the other side of the room. Their faces were close enough for Jean to spot his microscopic flinch.
“Do you want to check that?”
“No.” He shook his head, in case one denial wasn’t enough.
“I can let you get back to it.” She kept her voice light. It was the most casual offer in the history of casualness. No one had ever been this casual before.
Charlie blinked at her, and Jean wondered how nearsighted he was without his glasses. Would he be able to tell if she crossed her eyes?
“Back to what?” he asked.
“Whatever you need to do. Snake stuff. Whoever’s blowing up your phone.”
“There’s nothing in the whole world I’d rather do than drink a cup of coffee with you.”
Jean held her breath, diving through the sweetness of his words like a wave that threatened to sweep her off her feet. The pounding of her heart was getting a little aggressive. Like excitement or… panic.
“Nothing?” she teased, wrestling him onto the mattress.
Jean had plenty of time during her evening shift to figure out how to even the cosmic balance. Charlie had brought her coffee in bed that morning, so she would spice up his night with a little treat of her own.
As soon as she clocked out, Jean crept to his front door, placing a rolled sheet of paper on the mat. She rang the bell before lunging off the patio to hide behind a trio of oversize ceramic planters.
The door opened with Charlie’s typical hinge-straining enthusiasm. His smile fell when he realized there was no one there.
“Jean?” he said, uncertainly.
She watched him squint down the path, trying to see into the darkness beyond the trees.
“Is there someone there?” He was retreating into the cottage when he spotted the paper.
“What’s this?” Charlie murmured, bending to pick it up. A grin broke out as he read the words painted across the top of the page. “A treasure map.”
He took a step down, pausing when something crunched underfoot. Lifting his leg, he peered at the scraps clinging to his heel.
“The trail of breadcrumbs,” Jean hissed. “You’re supposed to follow it.”
“Jean?”
“I’m a disembodied voice. Totally anonymous.”
“Oh, right.” Charlie glanced at the path. “They’re very big breadcrumbs.”
“I thought tortilla chips would be easier to see.”
“Good point, anonymous voice. Am I supposed to eat them?”
“No. That would be gross. But I appreciate your commitment to the process.”
He sidestepped the next chip before stopping again. Charlie’s shoulders tensed as he looked back at the door of the cottage.
“Go on,” she coaxed. “You haven’t even gotten to the first prize.”
