Page 49 of Just Between Us

Take a breath, lower your shoulders. It’s going to be a great day.

I did as he said, already feeling better. When I closed the text thread, the Pulse app icon stared at me from my home screen. I wanted to check to see if he had posted, but a part of me didn’t want confirmation that he was still creating content for however many anonymous women online. That particular rejection stung a little too much.

Instead, I slipped on a comfortable pair of sandals and slung my overloaded work bag onto my shoulder. I locked up and headed down the stairs and into the early-morning light. When I pushed open the apartment’s main entrance door, movement caught my eye and I screamed.

The gangly teenage boy waiting on the stoop startled and screamed right along with me.

I pressed a hand to my beating heart. “Oh my god. I’m sorry. You scared me.”

He let out a nervous laugh. “Same.”

I looked over my shoulder and hooked a thumb behind me. “Are you waiting for someone?”

He rubbed his palms together. “Waiting for you, actually. Mr. King instructed me to deliver your breakfast and carry your bag for you.”

He held out the to-go coffee cup and a white paper bag as I stared at him. “Mr. King? You mean Royal?”

The boy nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

I shook my head. “You can’t be serious.”

The kid looked nervous. “Please let me do this. I just started at the tattoo shop as an apprentice, and I really want to make a good impression. I don’t want to fuck up my first real job.”

A ridiculous giggle bubbled inside me. “How old are you?”

The boy offered a shy grin. “I’m nineteen.”

His face was so hopeful it was almost pathetic. I slipped the heavy bag from my shoulder and held it out for him. “You know there are labor laws about this kind of thing.”

He chuckled and grabbed my leather bag as I took the coffee cup and food from him. “I don’t really know about that kind of thing, but I’m happy to help.”

I eyed the young man as we walked down the sidewalk toward town. “What’s your name?”

“Brian, ma’am, but most people call me Sketch.”

“Sketch?” I eyed him warily.

He shrugged and adjusted my bag on his shoulder. “I’ve always been into drawing.”

I smiled. “Ah ... not because you’re a sketchy character, but an artist. Makes sense.” I let the early-morning sun warm my face as I took a sip of my coffee. It was still hot and creamy and absolutely perfect. I hummed in appreciation.

“The nicknames in this town are something else.” I eyed my companion as we strolled past Royal’s house, and my chest fluttered. “Any idea what Royal’s name really is?”

Sketch’s shoulder bounced. “Don’t know ... but if I did, I probably wouldn’t tell you.”

I laughed at his honesty as we walked. “Fair enough. Thanks, Sketch. When I talk to him, I’ll let Royal know you knocked it out of the park.”

I snappedmy fingers impatiently as I stared down at the faded piece of paper in my hand.

Letter of Intent to purchase Wabash Lake and surrounding land property.

I thumbed through the other papers haphazardly stuffed into the rumpled file folder.

Homestead Act of 1862.

Plat of Survey.

“Hey.” I snapped my fingers again, attempting to get my boss’s attention. “JP, look at this. What is this?”

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