Page 32 of When In Doubt

“The one with the cat?” Penny chimes in.

“That’s the one.”

“I love that place,” Joyce says, not bothering to hide the triumph in her tone. “They have the most wonderful selection, and the staff there are so helpful.”

I catch myself right before rolling my eyes. Does she think I’m about to be upset over something so petty?

Maybe I ran over her cat in a previous life. That’s the only thing I can think of to explain why she hates me so much.

I’m struggling to carry the last box down the library steps when I spot a familiar dirt-streaked pickup truck, a figure leaning against it. He looks behind me at the library doors, eyes wary.

“Joyce isn’t still here, is she?” Oscar asks.

I laugh. “No, she left a while ago.”

“Thank God.” He straightens and crosses the asphalt to take the box from my hands, all loping strides and casual grace. “That woman scares the shit out of me.”

He swings the plastic tub into the trunk of my car, but I can’t focus on how easy he makes it look, not when I’ve just worked out where I know that truck from.

“It was you!” I say, accusing.

He follows my gaze, where I’m staring daggers at his vehicle.

He gives me a chagrined smile. “Uh… yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You seemed like you were three seconds from beating up whoever was parked in that spot.” He lifts a shoulder, an air of mischief in his features. “I didn’t want to be in the line of fire.”

“So, you lied?”

“I never lied.” He steps forward, suddenly serious. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“You just didn’t say.”

He gives me a sheepish look. “In my defense, I haven’t parked there since.”

I grumble, scraping the toe of my shoe against the ground. “I guess that’s alright, then.”

“You forgive me?”

“Just this once.”

He puts his hand on his heart. “It’ll never happen again.”

I chuckle. “What are you doing here anyway?”

He doesn’t quite meet my eyes. “Knew you’d be here.”

He came looking for me? He must catch my confused expression because he continues. “I just wanted to check on you.”

I sigh. I called him as soon as I got home, as instructed. We didn’t talk for long, just enough for him to decide that I actually was fine. At least I thought he’d decided. Apparently that’s not the case based on the intense way he’s scouring every inch of my face.

“You really didn’t need to do that.”

“It’s on my way, so…”

“Where are you headed?” I ask, wanting to get off the subject of me and my meltdown.