Page 37 of Steeped In Problems

She snickered. “You’re not so bad at this, you know.”

“You’re wrong. I’m horrible,” he admitted quietly.

Kristy shrugged. “That’s not true. Besides, you just have to be better than Mark.”

Tanner had no idea what to say to that. He’d seen guys like Mark—could spot them a mile off. Didn’t matter if they wore a badge, a suit, or a fancy pullover. They all shared the same way of talking over you like you were a speed bump in their perfect day. He wanted to tell her she was better than that, but he figured she already knew. Maybe just needed reminding.

He shook his head and tried to focus on the menu, but her face lingered in his vision even after he looked away. He wondered how many people in the restaurant had already clocked them as a couple. He wondered if he wanted them to.

Their bottle of wine arrived. Kristy poured them both a glass, then held hers up for a toast. “To fooling the world.”

He tapped his glass against hers, careful not to spill. “To not getting caught.”

She laughed, then sipped, and the next few minutes passed in a haze of half-truths and improv. They recounted stories from the shop, made up inside jokes, and pretended at memories. He realized it was easier than he’d expected. Maybe because he’d always been better at pretending nothing was wrong than talking about what was.

Eventually, Kristy set her wine down and glanced at him. “How are you so calm?”

He thought about it. “Spent a lot of years waiting in silence for things to get worse.”

She looked at him, something new in her eyes. “Doesn’t have to be like that, you know.”

He didn’t answer, but he let himself believe it for half a second.

Kristy finally broke the ice. “Do you think anyone here believes us?”

He looked around. “The hostess does. She already texted three people.”

She grinned. “You think she’s running a book on whether we’ll make it?”

“She’d make more if she did.”

Kristy sipped her wine, then set the glass down. “How did you end up in Clear Mountain?”

He hadn’t expected her to ask. Most people already knew his story or pretended they didn’t. “Grew up here. Family left after my dad died, but I stayed. Got on the force, never looked back.”

She nodded, like she understood. “You wanted to stay close to what you knew.”

“Yeah. Didn’t have much use for new places.”

She twisted her napkin again. “Do you miss it? Being a cop?”

He thought about lying, then decided he owed her more. “Every day. But that part of my life’s over.”

She didn’t push. Just nodded again, soft and slow.

He watched her for a second. “You ever think about going back to nursing?”

Kristy’s smile faded. “Sometimes. I loved saving people. But after a while, the losses outweighed the wins, and I couldn’t take it anymore.”

He didn’t get it. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged, but it was too big a gesture for someone trying to play it cool. “It got to be...too much. The grief. The hours. The way you go home and can’t sleep because your head’s still on the ones you couldn’t save.”

He knew the feeling. “Yeah, I get that.”

She looked at him, and something passed between them—an understanding, maybe, or just the relief of not having to explain the hard stuff.

“So, real question,” she said, voice low. “What was the worst date you’ve ever been on?”

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