Page 4 of Crossing the Line
Carmen reached for the door handle just as it swung inward, and she found herself face-to-face with someone who made her forget how to breathe.
They nearly collided—close enough that Carmen caught a hint of clean soap and something floral and saw the surprised widening of dark eyes that quickly shifted into amusement. The woman steadied herself with a hand briefly touching Carmen's arm, the contact sending an unexpected jolt of awareness through the fabric.
"Sorry," the woman said, but she didn't sound sorry. She sounded delighted. "I seem to have excellent timing for dramatic entrances."
She moved with the kind of confidence that turned heads without trying. Not tall, but she carried herself like she owned every room she entered. Dark hair caught the café's warmlighting, and her eyes—quick, curious, assessing—held Carmen's gaze longer than politeness required.
Carmen felt something shift in her chest. The woman's lips curved into a genuine smile, and Carmen realized she'd been holding her breath.
"I was just stepping out for air," Carmen managed, her voice steadier than she felt.
"Mind if I join you? I'm new to the neighborhood and still figuring out my way."
There was something in the way she said it—playful but not pushy, confident but not assuming—that made Carmen nod before her analytical mind could catalog all the reasons this was a bad idea. She'd come here to remember who she used to be, hadn't she? The Carmen from before would have said yes to a beautiful woman asking to share her company.
Carmen caught Lavender's attention behind the bar. The older woman's eyes tracked their movement with the particular interest of someone who'd spent decades reading people and situations. When their eyes met, Lavender offered a small, encouraging smile that somehow made Carmen feel like she was being given permission for something she hadn't known she needed.
"I'm Hailey," the woman said as they stepped outside into the cool harbor air.
"Carmen."
The small outdoor seating area was empty except for string lights and the sound of waves against the harbor rocks below. The fog had crept closer to shore, wrapping the edges of the city in soft white silence that made the rest of the world feel distant and unimportant.
Hailey moved to the railing overlooking the water, her hands gripping the metal as she took in the view. "This is beautiful. I can see why people fall in love with this place."
But Carmen found herself studying the woman's profile instead—the curve of her jaw, the way she seemed completely comfortable in her own skin, the slight smile that suggested she found the world amusing rather than threatening. There was an energy about her, something restless and electric that made Carmen hyperaware of her own breathing and the way the cool air felt against her wine-warmed skin.
"You said you're new to Phoenix Ridge?" Carmen asked, moving to stand beside her at the railing.
"Just arrived. Still figuring out where everything is and who everyone is." Hailey turned to look at her directly. "Though I have to say, the welcome committee is exceeding expectations."
It was a line that should have made Carmen roll her eyes. Instead, she felt her pulse quicken in a way that had nothing to do with the wine and everything to do with the way this woman looked at her, like she was genuinely interested and present.
Carmen had forgotten what that felt like.
"So what brings you to Phoenix Ridge?" Carmen asked, surprised by how easily the question came. She hadn't made small talk with a stranger in months, but something about Hailey made conversation feel effortless.
"Work, mostly. Healthcare administration." Hailey's answer came smoothly, her attention still partly on the harbor view. "I heard good things about the community here. Progressive values, strong women's networks, that sort of thing."
Carmen nodded. Phoenix Ridge had earned its reputation as a place where women could build careers and lives without constantly fighting for respect. "It's a good place to start over."
"Is that what you did? Start over here?"
The question was casual, but Carmen caught the genuine curiosity underneath. "In a way. I've been here long enough that it feels like home now." She paused, then added, "I'm a surgeon at the hospital."
"That explains the steady hands," Hailey said, glancing down at Carmen's fingers where they gripped the railing. "And probably the reason you look like you haven't slept in a week."
Carmen laughed before she could stop herself—an actual laugh, not the polite sound she'd perfected for professional situations. "Twelve-hour surgery this morning. I should probably be at home reviewing post-op notes instead of drinking wine and talking to strangers."
"Should be, but here you are anyway." Hailey's smile was warm and knowing. "What changed your mind?"
"A friend who refuses to let me become a complete hermit." Carmen gestured toward the café windows, where Julia was visible chatting with the pediatric nurse she'd mentioned. "She has strong opinions about work-life balance."
"Smart friend. Life's too short to spend it all in operating rooms, no matter how important the work."
There was something in the way Hailey said it that suggested experience, but before Carmen could ask, Hailey turned to face her fully. The string lights overhead caught the gold flecks in her dark eyes, and Carmen felt that electric awareness spike again.
"Can I ask you something?" Hailey's voice had dropped lower, more intimate. "Do you always analyze people the way you've been analyzing me for the past five minutes?"
