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Sam looks a little lost. I lean in and whisper, “We always do this after the fire presentation. He buys the blazin’ wings and then heads out.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I said it was a group.”
“I don’t picture Hank with a pile of spicy wings in front of him.”
“Don’t let the comb-over fool you,” I say, earning a quiet giggle. “The man might not eat them, but he loves this tradition.”
We pack up our things and everyone walks out together. Sam seems to hesitate a moment before walking to my truck.
“Everything good?” I ask.
She takes a quick inhale. “Of course.”
I get one of those partial smiles. And then I see that Hank is watching her. Not weirdly, just observing. Is she worried about being seen with me? Is this the kind of thing I missed with Maisy? I don’t open the door for her and go right to mine.
“I’m sorry if you’re uncomfortable riding with me. I can bring you back to your car if you’d rather drive separately.”
“Oh,” she says, looking torn.
“It’s okay either way. I won’t be offended. I promise.”
“Thank you.” She takes a breath. “Before I moved, I never walked in or out with someone from a work event. But I’ve done it before and I’d like to do it again. With you.”
Ouch, I didn’t fully need a reminder that Jax showed up with her to a few things.
“I just had a moment where I was worried that Hank might think I was being unprofessional. But there’s nothing unprofessional about two people carpooling.”
“No, I don’t think there is. We’re being eco-conscious.”
“Definitely.”
I breathe a little easier and pull out of the spot.
“Are you ready for the wings?”
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to eat any of the first round.”
“Not a blazin’ girl?”
“More like an almost-mild girl,” she says, looking like that might be an issue.
“Ooh, you’re not going to like the ones Hank gets then, but we can make sure there's a basket of the sweet chili wings for you.”
“Okay, even that sounds too hot,” she says with a nervous laugh.
“It’s as mild as they make them, and it's a very sweet heat.”
“Alright, sweet chili it is, I guess.” She makes a face that has me snorting.
“On second thought, you might need plain wings,” I say, throwing the truck in gear.
“They’d do that?” she asks.
“Why not?”
“I guess not every place I’ve been has been accommodating to special orders like that,” she says, shifting her iced coffee around in her hands and looking out the window.
