Opposites Ignite by Sadira Stone (crime books to read .txt) 📗

Her smile flickered and died. “Nah, I’m good. You?”

He shrugged. Don’t pout. Be a man about it. “Okay, I guess. Babka says hello.”

There it was again, that sad almost-smile. “Tell her I said hi.” She swiped a palm down her face, leaned onto the bar, and whispered, “This sucks.”

“Yeah, it does.” Knowing he wasn’t suffering alone lightened the load just a tiny bit. He laid his hand over hers. “Hang in there, beautiful. We’ll get past this.”

“Well, well, well.” Charlie stepped up and set down her tray. Her glossy brown ponytail swung as she looked from Eddie to Rosie, grinning. “How are the lovebirds this evening?”

“Look—” Rosie started.

“Listen—” Eddie said at the same time.

They exchanged wry grins. Rosie lifted her chin slightly, a silent signal. You’re up.

“We’re just friends. Right, Rosie?”

“Right,” she chirped with a fake, wide-eyed smile. “You and River are the only lovebirds here.” She loaded her drink order onto her tray and sailed into the crowd.

With a shaky exhale, he returned to his duties: trekking from storage room to bar, with side trips to pick up empties and to the kitchen to help Diego and Chelsey when food orders got backed up. He restocked glasses, tapped beer kegs, and kept his eyes on his work and off Rosie.

By his mid-shift break at nine, Eddie was feeling better—not good, exactly, but almost okay. He ducked into the kitchen to collect a burger and carried it to the break room, settling onto a folding chair. His eyes strayed to his locker, where a small package wrapped in shiny green paper hid inside his parka. He’d dithered at his apartment doorway, tucking the thing into his coat pocket, then removing it, over and over. Finally he stuffed it in, telling himself he’d decide once he saw how it went with Rosie at work. What better way to prove to himself that he was getting over her than to give her his gift? At least he wouldn’t have to see it on his bookshelf anymore, a reminder of the love affair that wasn’t.

The break room door banged open, and Rosie stepped through holding a chili dog in a paper boat. “Oh!” She froze in place, her gaze darting from him to the door. “I was just going to…” She lifted her snack.

“It’s cool. Come in.”

She sat in a folding chair and stared at the hotdog in her lap. Finally, she raised her gaze. “I hate how awkward this feels.”

“Yeah, well—it’s going to feel weird for a while. We’ll move past it.” Though he wished like hell they didn’t have to. Maybe a peace offering would help. He retrieved the package from his locker. “Russian custom, you give gifts for New Year’s Day. I didn’t get the chance, so…here.”

Her lashes fluttered. “For me?”

“It’s no big deal. Just—take it.”

She set the hotdog aside and unwrapped the bright blue notebook. Small enough to fit in her pocket, it held creamy blank pages between its peacock-print covers. She flipped through, then held it to her chest. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, well—” He shuffled his feet on the cement floor. “Saw it in that gift shop up the street, and I thought of you. You’re always sketching on napkins, right? Maybe you can use this instead. If you want.” Say something, please, or I’ll just keep blathering like a moron.

She raised her huge, dark eyes to his. “You bought this today?”

“No, no—before we…” He sighed. “Anyway, I wanted you to have it. You know, as a friend.”

She clutched it tight. “Eddie, this is so thoughtful. Thank you.”

Her silent stare made him so itchy he backed toward the door. “No big deal.” He turned away, but she wasn’t finished with him.

“You like notebooks, huh? I see you writing in yours all the time. What do you write about?”

Damn, he thought he’d been discreet. “Just stuff I need to remember.”

“For your classes?”

“Sometimes.” Let her think his obsessive list-making and list-checking was for school. Seemed less weird than admitting to his neurotic need for control, the nagging fear of forgetting some crucial part of his plan. His daily to-do list and monthly goals made him feel like he was making progress—reassurance that even though it would take years, he’d eventually grasp his dream. But someone as spontaneous and free as Rosie wouldn’t understand.

“You go to U Dub?”

“Just one of those online colleges.” No way could he afford the tuition at the University of Washington. And no way would he bury himself in student loan debt, either. The business degree he was slowly plugging away at was just a tool, one more step in his plan.

“Getting your business degree, right? Gonna revolutionize the dry-cleaning business?”

“No.” He dreaded the day when he’d finally deliver that news to his parents. They wouldn’t understand.

“Okaaay.” She tucked the notebook in her hip pocket, took a bite of her hotdog, and chewed slowly, eyes down.

Great, now we’re back to awkward. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bark at you. It’s just—that’s a sore subject.”

She lifted a shoulder. “None of my business, anyway.”

It could be, though.

She rose and dumped the uneaten half of her hotdog in the trash. Her eyes were glossy when she faced him again. “I’m sorry, Eddie.”

He reached for her hand. “You don’t have to keep saying that.”

She squeezed his palm. “I’m gonna keep on saying it until you believe me.”

Damn it, he was trying to give her what she wanted. How to make her see that? “I don’t blame, you, Rosie. You’re not a bad person, you’re just—impulsive, I guess.”

Her posture stiffened. “And you never are? Or do you always have a plan in that little notebook of yours. Guess you didn’t plan on me.” She whirled and strode through the door, letting it thud closed behind her.

Mouth agape, he stared after her. How did she know? Had she peered over his shoulder while he was writing? With a sigh that emptied him from toes to aching head, he pulled out his notebook, crossed off “Ask Rosie out,” then wrote