Page 13 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

The woman looked toward me. “You’ve asked more questions in five minutes than most police officers manage in an hour.”

Jax barked out a laugh and disappeared into the garage before I could respond. The tow truck started moments later, its diesel engine rumbling beneath the pounding rain.

I opened the miniature refrigerator beside the desk and pulled out a bottle of water. “Here.”

She accepted it but didn’t open it. “I just walked two miles through a storm. I don’t think dehydration is my most pressing concern.”

“You can be cold and dehydrated at the same time.”

“Are you always this bossy?”

“Only when people arrive looking half dead.”

“I wasn’t half dead.”

“Your lips were blue.”

“They were not.”

“They were.”

She looked toward the dark computer monitor on the desk as though searching for her reflection, then appeared annoyed when she couldn’t prove me wrong.

That time, I did smile.

“Coffee?”

Her shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Please.”

I stepped into the garage and crossed to the Keurig Clover had insisted on buying us last Christmas. She claimed no respectable business should serve instant coffee, though the machine’s primary purpose had become keeping Dad supplied during his unofficial retirement shifts.

I placed a mug beneath it and chose one of the stronger pods. Then I stared at the sugar packets and powdered creamer beside the machine.

I had no idea how she took her coffee.

For some reason, guessing wrong felt more consequential than it should have.

So I gathered all of it, and returned to the office with the mug balanced between both hands. The water bottle rolled beside her; she had finally opened it and taken a few sips. Some color had returned to her face, making her freckles more noticeable.

I set the coffee, sugar, and creamer on the table in front of her. “Didn’t know how you wanted it.”

Her eyes moved across the collection before returning to mine. The corner of her mouth lifted. “Prepared for every possibility?”

“I work on cars. Preparing for every possibility is half the job.”

“I thought charging people for parts they don’t need was half the job.”

I stared at her in shock at her brazen confidence. She held my gaze for two seconds before a laugh escaped her. It was quiet and husky, more genuine than the small smile she’d given Jax earlier.

I felt an unexpected tug of amusement low in my chest.

“You’re funny,” I said.

“I’m stranded, soaked, and probably losing an entire day’s income. The humor is mostly a coping mechanism.”

That answer wiped the smile from my face. “The milk deliveries?”

She nodded while tearing open two packets of sugar. “If I don’t get them delivered soon, they’ll be no good. Then I have to explain to every customer why their order isn’t coming, hope they’re willing to wait until tomorrow, and figure out whether we have enough bottled to replace all of it.”