She groaned.
“What?”Gray asked quickly.“Is something wrong with your pie?Take my piece.”
“No, no.The pie’s fine.I just hear Irma circling the block in her truck.”
Gray frowned, obviously not understanding why that was a problem.
“Irma is Ruth Sanger’s gossipmonger minion in training.She has undoubtedly spotted your truck parked in front of this building and is now circling the block to time how long you’re in here with me so she can report back to her supreme leader.”
“Is that so?”A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth.“I’m tempted to stick around here and study for a few hours, then.Really give her something to gossip about.”
“Don’t you dare,” she exclaimed.“I have a reputation to consider!”
“People in this town love you.The way I hear it, you actually run Cobbler Cove while the mayor takes home a big paycheck for ...Let’s see.How did Ruth Sanger put it?Drinking whiskey, smoking cigars, and slapping backs for a living.”
Bonnie clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a snort of laughter.“That’s terrible.He actually does some work around here.”
“When he’s here,” Gray observed dryly.
“His heart attack was pretty serious.He’s still recovering.”
Gray pursed his lips skeptically but didn’t argue.The way he heard it from Tucker was Shoemacher’s heart disease was too advanced for the mayor to reverse without aggressively changing his lifestyle for the better.And fast.
But apparently, Shoemacher was still drinking hard, smoking his expensive cigars, eating rich foods, and flatly refusing to exercise.
Uh oh.He was starting to listen to the Cobbler Cove gossip network, himself.He took a bite of his apple pie, which was, as advertised, very good.
“The forms,” he said, nodding at the folder she'd set aside.“You don't have to come back to the station to drop off the next batch.I’ll pick them up.”
He met her gaze steadily, not making it into more than it was, a logistical courtesy, entirely reasonable, nothing to read anything into.
“That's kind of you to offer,” she said, after a moment.
He gathered the trash and stuffed it in the bag.“Thanks for the company.”
“Thanks for the sandwich.”She was already reaching for the facility certification envelope.“And the horrifying sugar cube fact.”
“Any time.”He paused for effect.“Just wait till I tell you about the 700 different microbes that live in your mouth.”
“What?”she squawked.
He grinned and headed for the door.
He was almost to the exit when she said, “I checked my schedule.For when I can visit the storage unit.”
He turned to look at her expectantly.
“Tuesday morning.Lucas has a doctor's appointment in Apple Pie Creek at nine AM.He’ll be gone all morning.I can get to the office late.”She paused.“Meet me at the storage company just past the fire station at eight-thirty?”
He studied her face.Her posture professional and composed, but her hands were moving restlessly across her desk, and her fair skin was suspiciously pink.
“I'll be there,” he said.
He made it down the stairs, through the building's front door, and halfway down the block before he realized he was smiling.
4
Bonnie showed up at the fire station Thursday afternoon with a red folder this time and the determined expression of a woman who had made a decision and was going to see it through.
