Page 26 of Nicole's Shelter

His only encouragement that she might plan to stick with him awhile longer was that she hadn’t taken a picture of him yet. Her camera seemed to be her visual journal, a way to affirm her life experiences. It also gave her a pretty good shield as well as better access more than half the time.

And none of that mattered if they didn’t keep moving away from whatever had her so scared.

Tipping back the last of his coffee, he left the mug on the counter. He headed for the showers, grabbing some clean clothes along the way. Two minutes later he was back in the store, pulling a few items for Nicole.

“Want me to send up some food?”

Rick accepted Bart’s offer with a nod and a wave. Better to keep her out of sight. On that thought, he took a quick turn through the two racks of fishing gear. Gotta love Bart for keeping his income options open. The store was indeed on a thoroughfare.

* * *

Nicole peeked out the window again. The car was there, but so was that kid on the steps. How long was his break anyway?

She’d taken a shower, pleased to see nothing was bleeding, though the gauze had fallen off the bite on her collar bone. The butterfly strips were doing their job, so she managed to take care of herself without ‘death by countertop’ as Rick had put it the other day.

Not the other day. Just hours ago.

She felt weary enough to have been on the run for weeks already. It wasn’t the rough night or even the clothes she was getting sick of putting back on. It was the emotional energy drain from the constant fear that her escape hatch would slam shut before she could squeeze through.

Surely even rumpled, she could convince one of the truckers to take her to her next emergency way-point. Just as she was readying her camera, determined to talk her way past the kid on the steps, she saw Rick. In her head, she heard the slam of a door even as he walked into the apartment. Her chance was gone.

“Looks like I’m right on time,” he said, with a nod for the camera in her hand.

She tucked it away, feeling caught. Trapped. “You told that kid to sit there.”

“I did.” He dumped the things in his arms onto a chair. “North or south?”

“None of your business.”

“Yet.”

She rolled her eyes.

“If you go now, you’ll miss the best breakfast of your life.”

She fumed in silence, wondering when she’d get another chance to get away. “Whatever.”

“Were you ever in theater as a kid?”

“Not really.” Her life was one big acting job. Spending more of her time playing pretend didn’t hold much appeal. “Why?”

“I thought maybe you’d like to go to the bank meeting as a male photographer.”

A knock on the door halted her reply. She jumped, startled, while he simply answered it and thanked the person on the other side.

When he turned, she nearly drooled at the divine scents coming from the covered plates on the tray. “Oh, my. If it’s half as good as it smells…”

“It’s better.” He grinned, making her want to drool for a completely different reason.

She watched him serve, clearly as familiar with the kitchen they were borrowing as if he lived here. But the food, and her rumbling stomach, eclipsed her need for information.

From the first bite of fluffy pancake to the perfectly fried eggs to the crisp bacon, she thought she might prefer to freeze-frame life right here. If only every day could start like this.

“Can you cook like this?”

He shook his head.

“Too bad. I would’ve stayed with you forever.”

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