Page 22 of Falling Offsides

“Work. Camp. Pictures. I’m your chauffeur.”

She narrows her eyes. “I didn’t ask you to drive me.”

“Didn’t say you did.”

“I can call an Uber.”

“You could.” I shift slightly, hitching my kitbag higher up my shoulder. “But since I drove you home yesterday, and your car isn’t here, it’s not exactly an overstep to get you back to the facility in one piece today.”

Courtney stares at me.

I stare back.

“You came back here this morning to drive me to work.” The skepticism in her voice is unmissable.

“Yes, I’m standing outside your door—” I sort of correct her so it doesn’t feel like I’m lying about returning this morning. “—so I can drive you to work.”

“Feeling guilty, huh?” Good God, her grin is killer.

“A tad, but in my defense, as you admitted yesterday, you were in a not so desirable place.”

Bright eyes narrow to slits.

Finally, she sighs. “Fine. But only if we stop for coffee. And I get to pick the music.”

My mouth tugs just slightly at the corner. “Driving a hard bargain given I’m doing you a favor.”

“Suit yourself, I’ll just call that Uber after all,” she sings back, already tapping her phone.

Fuck.

“Alright, alright,” I mutter. “Pick your damn playlist. I’ll buy the coffee.”

A wickedly defined brow hitches as she spins and sashays to the elevator. At least she doesn’t argue about me paying for coffee. I think that’s something.

Isn’t it?

FIVE

AUGUSTE

The coffee shopacross from the complex is small, overlooking the end of the pier. It’s the kind of place that constantly smells like vanilla, cinnamon sugar, and sea salt. It also reminds me of the coffee shop close to our family home in Rimouski.

Courtney is enamored by the place the instant we walk in.

“Nothing smells as good as caffeine first thing in the morning.” She’s so goddamn cute with her upturned nose taking in the smell of freshly roasted coffee beans.

Before she orders, I tell her, “Breakfast, too.”

“I don’t need food.”

Bullshit.“You got stitched yesterday.”

“Barely.”

I cock my head. “Don’t argue. Let me feed you.”

“Let you feed me? That’s not?—”