“No, I just got into the area a few days ago.”
“Oh, is that why you’re eating alone on a Saturday evening?” I ask him the same question he asked me.
“I was waiting for the right company. So where are we headed?”
“There’s a coffee shop on the corner of First and Glenn Street. Will you be able to find it?”
“Are you worried I won’t show?” He pushes the door open and holds it for me to exit in front of him. I slip past, ducking my head, and I mutter a quick, “Thank you,” but as I breeze through the slight gap, I catch a whiff of that same scent from earlier, smoky and sweet, so I spin to look back into the restaurant.
His brows drop, and he assesses me. I’m sure he’s wondering why I look like I’ve seen a ghost. I scan the space behind him, but the bright dining room doesn’t offer any places for a shadow to hide.
“First and Glenn, right?” he questions, and I focus back on him.
“Sorry, yeah,” I mumble and head over to my car. If he thinks it’s strange that I just left him standing by the entrance without an explanation, he doesn’t say anything. In fact, I don’t give him a chance to say anything before I climb into my car and lock the door.
CHAPTER6
Idrive past the coffee shop twice before I decide to stop. If I hadn’t noticed him leaning against the building, waiting, I might have just driven past again.
Parking is fairly easy on the street, even though there are several people walking around, proving why a coffee shop would be open this late. Before I can hunt around in my center console for loose change for the meter, he’s at my driver’s side door, grinning down at me.
“I almost gave up on you showing—almost.” He pinches his fingers close together, making sure I can see them. “I’m glad you didn’t make me come look for you,” he says in a cavalier way. “How about this?” He motions to a small table near an outdoor fireplace on the patio of the coffee shop.
“Cozy,” I say, voicing the first word that comes to mind.
“What do you want to drink?” He curls his fingers over the back of the iron chair across from me, flexing his knuckles.
I reach into my purse and pull out a ten-dollar bill. “Hot chocolate, please.”
He walks away without taking my money, and my gaze isn’t the only one following him into the shop.
I scoot a little closer to the heat from the fireplace. It would be way too chilly out here without it.
Within a few minutes, he comes back with two cups in his hands and a little white bag. “So where were we?” he asks after popping the lid off his cup and taking a deep drink, even though I can see steam rolling off whatever he has inside. My tongue burns with sympathy pain, so I roll it against the back of my teeth.
“I was telling you how I think the boogeyman is real.”
“Is that what you were doing?” he questions with mock surprise. “I thought you were telling me about your friends and a game.”
He makes it all seem so normal. It’s kind of a relief, though I should probably be worried about him because of it.
“Why don’t you tell me more about your friend?” he offers as he takes another long drink.
“Corey,” I say her name in a measured tone.
“How long did you know her?”
“Forever, or since grade school anyway,” I reply. “She was my other best friend up until this year.”
“And what happened this year to change that?”
“Emma.” I try not to sound bitter, but I don’t think I’m successful. “She was the other girl who died or might be dead. I haven’t watched the news tonight.”
“You didn’t like her?” he concludes from the spite in my tone.
“I didn’t not like her before. We just didn’t mesh well,” I admit.
“You blame her for the other girl’s death.”
