Page 57 of Fiona and the Fixer

Do you think she wears pantsuits to bed?

But when I listened in on the women, I heard something completely different.

She’s so pretty.

I wonder what kind of moisturizer she uses because her skin is amazing.

We need sex tips from her because I want a Dax of my own.

I heard she runs. She’s so strong.

Yeah, all of that. With every catty thing I thought they would say came instead something… kind.

I wanted to hug them all, to invite them for coffee. Mani/pedis. A run. Whatever. I felt… liked. But I couldn’t. Eavesdropping didn’t make me popular at the office, so I knew better than to be an open snoop. I just smiled and wrapped the women’s kindness around me like a cozy blanket.

With nothing to do, I grabbed the first book I got my hands on from the fall display and started reading.

Then I got hooked, only to stop long enough to ring up other customers. I’d even bought it so I could keep reading after closing time.

“Mmm, that’s a good one,” she murmured, pulling a big plastic container from the sack. “Got to the part where they–”

“Yes!” My eyes lit up. “Can you believe there were two–”

“I know,” she countered, fanning herself. “Then the–”

“Exactly. I hope he keeps–”

She set her hand over her heart. “I won’t spoil it for you, but romance books have happily ever afters.”

I sighed. “I gotta get me a cowboy,” I breathed.

“You’ve got yourself a big, brawny boyfriend, although I doubt he knows which end of a horse is front.” She set a second container in front of me. “Eat.”

As I lifted the lid and peeked, she grabbed a fork from the drawer for me.

“Why do you keep bringing me food?”

“Because that’s what people do.”

I frowned. “What? Feed each other?”

She laughed. “Take care of each other, honey.”

I frowned down at the salad she brought. It was a fancy one with several different kinds of lettuce, cubes of cheese, craisins, sunflower seeds, and even pomegranate seeds. The dressing smelled tart and garlicky.

My mouth watered. “Wow, this looks amazing. Thank you so much, but you really don’t have to keep cooking for me.”

She arched a silver brow and gave me a look like I was akid who was supposed to brush his teeth but only ran the toothbrush under the faucet. “Since when do you cook for yourself?”

I pursed my lips. “Since never.”

“Exactly.”

“I bought wine.” I hadn’t starved yet.

She cocked her head. “Doesn’t anyone take care of you?”

I bit my lip.

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