Page 45 of Keller

"That's young," she says.

"Yeah. Sucks, right? We both lost our moms too young."

She nods once. Her fingers still rest against the bracelet.

I reach across the space between us and touch the bracelet. It wasn't planned, and definitely not something I would normally do. Almost like instinct.

She doesn't pull back, but I do. My hand returns to the bar after a few seconds. Her eyes stay on mine, and something shifts in her expression.

The bartender wipes down the counter near us, and it's clear they are nearing closing time. I look at my watch and realize we've been sitting here talking for almost three hours.

Quinn checks her phone briefly, then tucks it back into her bag.

"I should get going," she says.

I don't argue. I also don't move to leave yet.

"If I call you after this, are you going to shut me down again? Because I'd really like to see you again."

She pauses. Her hand rests on her bag strap. "Depends."

I hand the bartender my card and nod to him to run it.

"Oh, yeah? Then what do I have to do to make sure you don't?" I lean into her, resting my chin on my hand

A small smile touches her mouth. "I'll have to think about that one."

The bartender hands me the credit card slip. I pull it to me and add a hundred-dollar tip and sign.

She stands, and I follow. We walk toward the door together, the night wrapping around us as we step outside.

The air cools as we step outside. The humidity still clings, but the heat has dropped. Fewer people move along the street now. A couple walks past us heading in the opposite direction.

Quinn adjusts her bag on her shoulder as we walk back toward the new Southern Stars office. I walk closely enough to catch the faint scent of her perfume. Something subtle. Citrus, maybe, or bergamot.

"Seriously, I'd like to see you again," I start, breaking the silence.

"I handled that badly, shutting you down like that without explanation. I apologize. I'd like to see you, too."

I look at her and smile, grateful we were able to move past it.

"And if I dig up any other information you failed to share, I promise to ask you about it instead of assuming the worst."

"I can handle that. Anything specific in mind you'd like to do, or you want to play it by ear?"

After last time, it almost feels like I need to nail her down now before we go our separate ways and our mutual stubbornness creeps in.

We stop in front of Southern Stars. She considers the question. Her eyes move past me briefly, scanning the street, then return.

"How about Saturday morning? Do you run?"

"Not typically unless someone is chasing me. But I would with you, if it means I get to see you again."

"Nice one. I like Saturday morning runs in Audubon Park, especially in the spring. It's mostly quiet, almost magical."

"Sold. What time?"

"Seven."