Page 8 of Missing

“Love you too.”

It felt good to be back at work, which I was sure was mostly due to spending the day with Mary and seeing my regular customers again, many of whom I called friends. Most people might not consider working in a coffee shop a rewarding career choice, but it was perfect for me; I had flexible hours, good pay and benefits, a community of friendly regulars, plus my boss was my best friend. If you’d asked me in high school what I wanted to do, I wouldn’t have said manage a coffee shop. I couldn’t have predicted leaving Louisiana either.

But life happens, and here I am.I smiled.I wouldn’t change a thing.

Which wasn’t entirely true, there was one thing I’d change—Phil would be alive and well, helping me raise Chase.

The bell above the door chimed, disrupting my thoughts. I greeted two WPD officers as they strolled in and waved. We chatted while I poured their coffees. Two minutes after the door closed behind them, Mary held out the phone and said, “It’s Angela.”

Angela? Chase’s daycare Angela?Why didn’t she call my cell?

My breath caught in my throat. The only reason she’d call was if something had happened to Chase.Oh God. I willed my legs to move and watched as my trembling hand reached for the receiver. I held me breath as I brought it to my ear.

“Is Chase okay?” I asked, sounding as panicked as I felt.

“He is. He fell and bumped his head and wants to talk to you.”

Thank God.“How bad is it?” I asked, taking the first full breath since hearing Mary say the call was for me.

“Not bad, he didn’t break the skin. The fall scared him more than it hurt him. He won’t stop asking for you.” She paused. “Hang on.”

“Mommy?”

The fear in his voice crushed my heart. “I’m here, what happened?”

“I fell and hit my head.”

“Miss Angela said you didn’t bleed, and you were brave while she checked.” I wanted to distract him from the pain and fear.

“I was,” he said. “I have a big bump on my head.”

He must have touched it because I heard him yelp in pain. “Chase, don’t touch your bump. Okay?”

“Are you coming to get me?”

Trusting Angela and Shawna were more than capable of taking care of Chase and his bump, I told him I couldn’t but would be there right after work. He whined he wanted to go home, but got over it when I reminded him he had tee ball practice with his Uncle John.

After talking to Angela, and being reassured Chase really was okay, I hung up. Mary told me to take my lunch break early so I could pull myself back together. In the break room I saw the reason Angela called me on the work line—my phone was sitting on the table.

After the lunch rush, Doug stopped in for a coffee. I couldn’t help but notice a bruise forming under his left eye. “Are youokay? What happened?” I asked, sounding like a worried mom as I reached out to touch his face. I yanked my hand back.You can’t just touch him.

His grin told me he hadn’t missed the gesture. “I’m okay, dude sucker punched me when I served his papers.” Serving legal papers was one of the many jobs the private investigators at SSI performed.

“Sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say since it wasn’t my place to worry about him. I asked, “Your usual?”

“Please. And an acorn chip cookie.” His grin made my stomach do little loop da loops.

My laugh, as I turned to pour his coffee, sounded nervous to my ears.

Is Doug flirting with me?Why else would he bring up the joke he’d played on Chase. And be grinning at me with that look in his eyes? Doug had never cracked a joke before. He’d always been nice, polite, friendly but not overly so, and he’d never flirted.

It felt like something had changed between us.I’m not complaining.

“One large black coffee, and an acorn chip cookie coming right up.” It couldn’t hurt to flirt back a little even if I had butterflies in my belly, right? Right.

I might be over forty, but I’m not dead.A strong, sexy, polite alpha male could still turn me on.

Doug scanned the coffee shop when I handed him his coffee. There was no one else here, not even Mary or Amber. At least not at the moment, though one or both would be back soon.

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