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“I’ll get you up and running in no time,” I say, sliding into the chair.

She shuffles some paperwork that’s scattered loosely around her computer, moving them out of my way.

All of them have to do with the grand opening of my dad’s second dealership in Brainerd next month.

Fran is leading the charge with planning the event that all of Pine Falls has been buzzing about.

I get busy putting my tech skills to work—the skills I reluctantly acquired when I blindly followed my father’s career nudging straight out of high school. My own attempt to apply to culinary school was met with laughter and ridicule, as most suggestions I made to him at the time were.

While I test the connectivity between the computer and server, I unintentionally zone out, my mind drifting to imagine what Fran’s home life and relationship with her husband is like.

I don’t know much about him or their life together, and my curiosity gets the best of me.

Does he also stash a pair of walking shoes at his work—or perhaps in his car—so they can meet at the nearby hiking trail in the late afternoons?

Or perhaps now that they’re empty nesters on an adventure-seeking quest to reconnect with each other, they keep a bucket list of national parks they hope to hike someday.

“Just another minute,” I tell her with a smile, secretly hoping that my second assumption is correct. I really do try to rein in my wandering mind when I’m at work, but I’ve admittedly come up with multiple home-life scenarios for each one of my coworkers.

“I’ve got nowhere else to be.” She smiles back. “Hey, did you ever try out that new sushi place you were talking about last week? Over in Crosby?”

“Oh, yeah, I was there on Wednesday. It was delicious,” I say.

“Cindy said she liked it too. Maybe we can do an outing for lunch one day,” she suggests.

“I’d like that,” I reply with a smile. I’m usually up for anything that’ll get me out of the office during the day.

After a few more minutes of rebooting the software and checking connections, I finally get her computer running properly.

“There you go, Fran. Good as new.” I step around the desk as she takes the seat.

“Thank you so much, my dear.” She stops me before I get too far. “Hey, will you do me a favor? Could you bring this folder over to accounting on your way back to your office? That would really help me out.”

She smiles sheepishly, as if she doesn’t ask me for favors almost daily. And just like it does each time, my stomach does a flip, uneasiness swirling in my gut.

Is running paperwork all over the building part of my IT job description? Nope. Am I going to do it anyway? Probably. What if she’s not feeling well and actually needs my help? Or what if I turn her down and she ends up resenting me? I can’t bear the thought.

Robbie’s face briefly flashes in my head, reminding me that this is precisely what I’m supposed to be saying no to, but I just can’t find it in me to turn her down.

When I think of saying no to Fran, my throat physically starts to close up, and my chest gets impossibly tight.

What happened to all that determination I felt this morning?

Because I don’t feel an ounce of it now.

“You bet,” I agree with a timid nod.

“Oh, thank you!”

I grab the folder and return her wave as I walk in the opposite direction of my office to accounting. The walk there makes me feel more defeated by the second. If I can’t even say no to Fran, how in the world am I ever going to be able to stand up to my dad?

When I eventually make it back to my office, I close the door and call Robbie as soon as I sit down. The last thing I want to do is regress back to how I felt yesterday after the robbery, so I’m grasping at straws here to keep some sense of determination.

He picks up after the third ring. “What’s up?” he says, his voice low and throaty in my ear. The sound of it alone seems to cut through some of the still-thick haze of insecurity—a familiar solace that I cling to desperately.

“Were you sleeping?”

“No.” He clears his throat.

I wait, knowing full well that my silence will get to him eventually.

“Maybe,” he finally admits.

“Really?” I snort. “It’s the middle of the day.”

I can perfectly picture the discarded clothes he has tossed around my living room and the contents of his backpack that are likely dumped out on my coffee table by now.

His mess will, of course, be all picked up by the time he blows out of here, but boy does he bring a tornado of disarray with him wherever he goes.

The man is nothing if not a quintessential chaotic artist.

“Listen, I’ve got nowhere to be,” he explains nonchalantly.

“So you’re going to spend the next two days rotting away on my couch?”

“Living the dream, baby.”

“Okay. Ask me to take a file to accounting.”

He pauses. “This another one of those practice sessions?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, good. I was hoping you were going to ask again. ‘Cause I really think I can do better than this morning. You caught me when I was still half-asleep.”

“Yeah…I would apologize for waking you up early, but it looks like you’ve caught back up on your rest.”

He ignores my remark as I hear him climb off my couch and slide my deck door open while he clears his throat.

“Alright, ready? Take this file to accounting right now, or you’re fired,” he demands aggressively.

I stifle a laugh. “Let’s try that again, but how about less deranged boss and more… sweet receptionist vibes.”

“Be a peach and take this to accounting?” I ignore his ridiculously high-pitched voice and pretend it’s Fran who’s asking me. Again, it feels like there’s a brick pressing on my chest, and a wave of uneasiness flutters across my skin.

“No?” I manage to squeak out.

“That would not intimidate a mouse.”

“Well,” I say in an exasperated tone, throwing my hands up, “it’s harder than it sounds, okay?”

“Let’s try again… Sugar, my knees are sore. Could you take this across the building for me?”

“Now that’s actually a valid reason.”

“Not the point.”

“Okay, okay.” I clear my throat. “I can maybe do it later?”

“Meh.”

“I’m heading the opposite direction for a meeting, so I won’t be going that way.”

“Better.”

“Sorry, I can’t.”

“Straight to the point, I like it.”

“Thanks.” I heave a deep breath in, feeling slightly more at ease. “Okay, I feel a little better about it.”

“Glad I could help. Oh, by the way, Mrs. Pelinski cornered me when I was walking out to your dock this morning. She grilled me for twenty minutes straight, demanding to know who I was. She acts like she didn’t just see me here last month.”

I chuckle. “Ah, yes. You can’t escape her. You should know by now that crashing at my place inevitably comes with an interrogation from my sweet neighbor. She’s protective of me. And her memory is a little hazy.”

“I gathered that.”

“Be nice to her.” I may be just as protective of her.

“I’m always nice.”

“Listen, I’ve gotta get back to work. I’ll see you back at home later. Try not to eat all my brownies, okay?”

“Good luck with the receptionist.”