Page 8 of Midnight Clear

“Hey, Tessa. Got a meeting,” he said, returning her grin. “How’s school going?”

She rolled her eyes and said, “I can’t wait until this semester is done. Organic chemistry is killing me.”

“You and Mac still studying together?” Hank asked. Mac was his cousin’s daughter.

“Whenever we get a chance,” she said. “But Mac’s graduating next week. I’ve still got another year to go before I’m free.”

“You’re never free, kid,” he said sympathetically. “That’s the thing they never tell you.”

“Well, way to burst my bubble,” she said, grabbing a couple of laminated menus.

“I’ll take that corner table over there,” he said.

“Got it,” she said. “You want some privacy.”

“You’ve got a bright future ahead of you, kid.”

“That’s not what my organic chemistry professor told me last week,” she said glumly.

“Keep your chin up. Everyone struggles with that class. If I recall, even my brother wondered if he was going to pass.”

“Dr. O’Hara?” she asked. “Really?”

In truth, Hank had no idea if Colt had struggled in any of his classes. But Tessa’s expression had been so forlorn he would have said almost anything to cheer her up.

“Yep,” he said. “Just keep doing your best and don’t give up. Maybe you’ll be surprised by the outcome.”

“Thanks, Hank,” she said.

He took a seat on the opposite side of the table so he had the widest view of both streets on either side of The Lampstand. The last time he’d talked to his mother she’d mentioned that Sophie was living in the house she’d grown up in over on Winter Street, which was only a couple of blocks from downtown, so she probably walked to the bookstore every day.

The waitress came by and he ordered coffee, feeling the anticipation in his stomach he always felt when he wanted to close a deal. But there was something more too. And he could admit he was nervous. He had to do this right because this was going to be a turning point for him and Sophie. His gut was never wrong about these things. And the last thing he wanted was for her to despise him.

He resisted the urge to check the time again, instead sitting back and people-watching like he hadn’t a care in the world. And then as if he’d conjured her there, Sophie was making her way toward the table. She was already taking off a pair of green gloves and then she pulled off the matching hat she wore, unleashing the mass of curls from beneath it. His stomach did a slow flip at the sight of her hair, seemingly electric and with a life of its own.

He was feeling rather warm himself under the heaters and stood up to greet her as she approached. His mouth quirked as she sized him up, and he wondered if she was going to turn and walk away. But then that stubborn chin tilted and her mind was made up.

“I’m glad you came,” he said. “I didn’t know if you would.”

“My mother seemed to think it was a good idea,” she said, still studying him.

His lips twitched. “But not you?”

“The jury’s still out,” she said, taking off her jacket and hanging it on the back of her chair before she sat down.

Hank sat back across from her.

“Why?” she asked, looking him dead in the eye.

She didn’t have to elaborate. He knew exactly what she was talking about. And he appreciated her directness.

“Because you need me,” he said simply.

Her mouth dropped open in shock and she sputtered. “I don’t need you. I don’t even know you. What are you talking about?”

The waitress chose that moment to bring their coffee and the basket of pastries he’d ordered, and he watched as Sophie’s temper worked up into an impressive head of steam. But he had to appreciate how she kept it under a tight rein.

“What can I get y’all for breakfast?” the waitress asked.

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