“Nice to officially meet you, Maria.”
“You too.”
He studies me for a second, like he’s figuring something out. Then his brows lift. “Wait, you work at The Nook, right?”
I blink, surprised. “I do.”
“That’s where I know you from.” He snaps his fingers lightly. “The cinnamon rolls.”
I grin. “Ah. A man of excellent taste.”
“I try.” He shifts his bag higher on his shoulder. “My office is just around the corner, so I stop in every now and then.”
I narrow my eyes playfully. “Every now and then? I feel like I would remember a cinnamon roll regular.”
“Perhaps I need to come more often.”
He gestures toward the aisle, and we fall into step beside each other. The classroom empties in front of us, the buzz fading. Our footsteps echo softly in the hall, and when we reach the main doors, Carter steps ahead, pulling one open for me. The cool night air greets us instantly, and a breeze blows my hair. I clutch my bag a little closer.
“Wow,” I mutter. “That came out of nowhere.”
“Welcome to evening classes,” he says, amusement in his voice as he steps out behind me. “Where you question your life choices the second you hit the parking lot.”
I laugh, the sound carried off by the wind, and as we start down the steps together. I scan the parking lot, searching for my car, more specifically, for Lucas. He dropped me off tonight because he wanted the car to check on Marbles, but judging by the empty curb and lack of familiar headlights, he’s running late.
I sigh, shifting my bag higher on my shoulder as the wind cuts through my jacket, and pull my phone out to check for a message. Nothing. This isn’t really like him. Worry begins to grow in my stomach.
“Do you need a ride?”
Carter’s voice is easy, but when I glance at him, I must look a little thrown off because he immediately lifts both hands, palms out in surrender.
“Not a kidnapper or mass murderer,” he says with a laugh. “Just a guy taking night classes to move up at work, not to pick up beautiful women.”
That startles a laugh out of me. “Well, that’s reassuring,” I tease.
“Glad to hear it.”
I soften, offering him a small smile. “That’s really nice of you, but my son is picking me up. He’s just…apparently on his own schedule tonight.”
“Ah.” He nods, glancing around the lot like Lucas might magically appear if he looks hard enough. “Teenager?”
“Sixteen,” I mutter.
I glance back down at my phone, thumbs already moving to text him when headlights sweep across the pavement, and then a car I know very well pulls up in front of me.
“Oh,” I say, a smile tugging at my lips. “My ride is here.”
Carter follows my gaze, and then does a full double take. “Holy—” He leans forward slightly, squinting like that’ll make it less true. “Is that…Tuck Delray?”
I don’t even try to hide my smile now. “Yes.”
His head snaps toward me, eyes wide, bouncing between me and the driver’s seat. “He’s not your son.” It’s a statement, not a question, and so unintentionally funny that I laugh.
“No,” I say, still grinning. “Definitely not my son. He’s a family friend. My son must’ve gotten tied up.”
“Right,” Carter says slowly, like he’s filing that information away for later analysis. “Family friend.”
There’s a beat—one where his curiosity is practically vibrating off him—but he recovers with an easy smile. “Well…have a good night, Maria.”
