Page 26 of Tributary

She shrugs. I look around for a pair of shoes and realize I have nothing more casual than a pair of loafers. We both laugh as I slide into them with my sweats and undershirt. I reach for her hand and we walk out the front door. She fingers the hedge that stops by my sidewalk.

“Who should I hire to take care of it for me when I’m not here,” I ask her, wanting this to be an ok question. Wanting her to see that I want to take care of this house here as best as I know how. Which is to pay the correct person for the job.

“Hmm.” She seems to think about this for a long time and then she pats my arm. “You should ask my dad, actually. He’s amazing with roses.”

“I’ll do that. Maybe after the party I’ll say something to him.” We walk quietly for a bit, back toward Main Street and the square of storefronts surrounding the library. The amphitheater outside is decorated for Hunter’s party, with banners and twinkle lights. Rented tables and chairs line all the public spaces, ready to serve up heaps of food and welcome home this town’s latest hero.

Diana lets me hold her hand until we get to her shop. Then she stiffens and starts reaching for her keys. “Well, this is me.”

“I know that, Diana.” I help her line the key up with the lock and she stares daggers at me until I turn my head away while she enters her security code. “You’ve got a pretty sweet security system for a girl who thinks this town is so safe,” I comment.

Her eyes meet mine and even in the dark, I can see a flash of hurt there. “Hey,” I say, “come on. Let me walk you up the stairs to your apartment.” She hesitates, but I persist. “I won’t come inside, but I just want to make sure you get up the stairs. You’re a little unsteady on your feet.”

Diana sighs deeply and then shrugs. I follow her up the back stair way and we pause on a cheery landing outside her second-floor apartment. Moonlight floods in through the window and she fishes out her keys again. They seem perpetually lost in the cavernous pockets of her vest. I love that she doesn’t carry a tiny little handbag.

I swallow, waiting for her to send me away, wondering how I’ll walk away from her. She doesn’t say anything or move to unlock the door. I lean in slowly, placing a hand on her cheek. Softly, gently I caress her jaw line with my thumb. I can see her pulse tick in her throat, practically hear her blood sing, and I lean in to press a soft kiss against her lips. Her skin is cold from walking outside in the crisp air, but her lips soon warm and move against mine.

I break the kiss and she moans softly, her eyes wide and her body leaning closer to mine. “Goodnight, Dr. Crawford,” I whisper.

I lift her hand and kiss her knuckles, taking the key from her slack fingers and opening her door for her. She steps inside and looks over her shoulder at me. Lord, if she weren’t drunk right now, I’d tackle her to the hardwood floor. “Goodnight, Asa,” she says, and I laugh when she kicks the door shut in my face.

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