Page 9 of Safety Net (Mendell Hawks #3)

Celeste’s gaze flickered to my arm, and I realized its position made our conversation seem far more exclusive.

I’d created a barrier for us, blocking out the bookstore.

For a second, I considered putting my arm back to my side, but when she shifted a little closer, I left it.

Was it possible she was interested in a world of just the two of us?

Could she envision it as clearly as I could?

Our abandoned text thread said otherwise. I’d never been one to take things too personally, so Celeste’s eventual silence hadn’t pierced my core. It was successful in planting a seed of doubt about a possibility of an us, though. I wondered if that seed would survive after this change in energy.

“That’s my favorite Carter. The one I wanted to tell you about before Jack interrupted.” I tapped the cover lightly with two fingers, an excuse to be close to her. The book was between us, but I swear I felt the warmth of her skin through the soft cover.

She looked down, gaze more on my fingers than the cover. “Yeah?”

“I’m obsessed with the detective. She’s a badass ex-marine biologist who solves crimes of the sea. It’s like if Ace Ventura and Murder, She Wrote had a baby. Do you like poodles?”

Celeste blinked, trying to keep up. “Poodles?”

“The detective,” I explained. “She has two of them. They are half the reason why the crimes get solved in time. One’s best friends with an orca—a surprisingly heartfelt relationship.

I may have cried during the last few chapters when those two had to part ways.

Goodbyes always suck—oh, shit, my bad, spoilers. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Celeste laughed. It’s far more melodic than I could have dreamed. I leaned against the bookcase more because the noise almost knocked me off my feet.

“Sorry,” Celeste added quickly. “I wasn’t laughing at your…crying. I was…I’ve never heard of something so nonsensical.”

“Carter lives and breathes nonsense. I think we may be long-lost twins.”

“Could be.” She nodded, playing along.

“What about you?”

Celeste blinked. “I…don’t follow. Sorry.”

“No. It’s my fault. I’m a tumbleweed.”

She shook her head, still confused, still smiling.

Another laugh was a hair’s breadth away, and I live for its proximity.

Yearning for a laugh was a new high or low, I couldn’t decide which.

My body could decide it wanted to feel her laugh.

The vibration of it against my chest. The taste of it on my lips.

“It’s what my grandma calls me. Just rolling forward,” I said. “It’s a compliment…I think. At least I take it as one. Anyway, your favorite detective?”

“I don’t know many,” she said softly.

“You already have a good start.” I gestured to the books in her hands and then looked at the shelf, trying to see if I could recommend any more to her. “Damn.”

“What?” Celeste asked, sounding genuinely worried.

I looked over my shoulder toward where Lenny had disappeared.

“He stocked the latest books in this series and didn’t tell me about it.

Okay, Celeste, these are incredible. I haven’t read them all yet, but everything this author puts out is gold.

Five kids driving in their minivan across Canada to solve old ghost stories. Paranormal cold cases.”

I studied the new illustrated covers, ready to buy the whole set.

“Sounds fun.” Celeste tried to get a peek at the artwork, so I moved over to make it easier for her to see. The feel of her body heat reminded me of how real this conversation was. Dry mouth was back with vengeance.

“This entire series deserves the book equality of an Oscar,” I said hoarsely.

“Pulitzer?”

“Bless you,” I murmured while still staring at the familiar characters on the page.

Celeste laughed again. “No…um, the Oscar for books. I think it’d be a Pulitzer.”

“Ah.” I nodded and smiled at her.

She cleared her throat and turned her gaze toward the shelves again. I forced myself to move back a bit, too.

The air didn’t smell of ink on paper anymore.

It smelt of citrus and clover. Of her. I wanted to be closer.

Not just physically. I wanted to be like we were now, talking about books and finding interest in something together.

I didn’t think I was lonely before, but with her here, I wondered if that had been the case.

If all along, I wanted someone to get lost with in a bookstore.

“I think…I got everything I came for,” Celeste said quietly as she lifted her books.

My heart sank, but I smiled.

“Me too.” I grabbed the rest of the series. “Can we walk up together?”

Her flighty gaze was back, straying to the front of the store. “Okay.”

“I started coming here more since school’s been out, so if you ever need company, feel free to let me know,” I offered as we started to check out.

Celeste didn’t respond verbally, but I think she released a soft hum of acknowledgement. I’d take it.

There was no line at the register. I greeted Kasey, and she gave me a tired smile. Most days, she ran this place on her own.

“Those, too.” I gestured to Celeste’s stack. “If you don’t mind?”

I directed the question to Celeste, who looked confused at first.

“You don’t…have to,” she whispered.

“I know. It’s my way of getting someone I know to read my favorites, so I have someone to talk to about it,” I said and offered my hand for her books. “It’s pretty selfish of me, actually.”

“Thanks.” Celeste let me bag the books.

“I was thinking maybe…” Celeste started. “You could walk me to my…car?”

“Of course,” I said without a second thought. It’s an unusual request that made me feel like a eleven-year-old getting to hold hands with a girl on the bus for the first time.

I grabbed our bags and opened the door for her. The sun was setting, painting the town a pink and orange hue. The streets were mostly empty, foot traffic down thanks to most people fleeing to beachside cities for the summer.

“I’m just over there.” Celeste pointed to the on-street parking a few yards down.

I inwardly sighed at how close it was. It’d take us a minute, two tops. How pitiful was it to be annoyed at the short length of time it’d take for me to get her to her car?

“Are you a fast reader?” I asked as soon as she said, “I have something to ask you.”

“Go for it,” I said as she said, “No, not really.”

We shared a laugh. It’s such a simple thing I would think about for weeks and months to come because she looked up at me and was comfortable enough to stand mere inches away. And if you knew her, you knew sharing something like this rare.

We were in front of her car now. Celeste didn’t move to retrieve her keys. She picked at the thin, paper handle of her store bag.

“I heard you’re looking for…” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a second. “A volunteer project. Something for your community outreach class?”

“Sure.” I ran my hand over the back of my head. I’d put the ticking time bomb that was my academic career in the back of my mind during this entire conversation. Escaping its clutches had been fun.

Compartmentalizing was second nature to me; it was how I got through growing up.

My parents spent months out of the country, leaving me behind with my grandmother.

They sent back a plethora of shiny postcards and posed photos.

Whenever they came home, it was on their own time, without warning.

Whenever they left, it was on their time, without warning.

The constant ebb and flow of in and out, goodbyes and hellos had me breaking down my expectations and disappointment, dropping them into separate boxes.

“Might settle on highway clean up,” I said. “Jack didn’t seem to hate the idea, so that’d make our sentence together more tolerable.”

“I may have something you guys could do,” she said. “Something…in AC. And maybe with snacks?”

“You had me as soon as you said I,” I joked (but not really). “Is it at the community center? Because I fully planned on still coming to the tutoring sessions outside of school.”

She shook her head, her picking at the paper ramped up. “It’s at the playhouse. I’m…I’m working on a project—something to submit for a mentorship program. And I need…a crew. I have an actor. Well, two. Maybe more if Ellis – he’s my cousin—can convince more of his friends to join in.”

I tilted my head to the side. “Ellis is your cousin?”

She raised a brow. “Do you know him?”

“Yeah, sort of.” Our crowds overlapped. Ellis was a hardcore party guy. Incredibly fun to be around, but I often struggled to keep up with him, and that said a lot. “What’s the project?”

Celeste could say we were going to regrout the tile in the playhouse’s bathrooms, and I’d say yes.

“It’s…” She looked away for a second, pressing her hand to her cheek. “A musical. Mine. My musical. I write music.”

She’d written a musical? Oh, yeah, there was never a world in which I didn’t pine for this woman. “You know, you should always introduce yourself with that. If I wrote musicals, people would never hear the end of it.”

She laughed, looking a little less like she was going to bolt at a moment’s notice. “Thanks…but in most circles it’s kind of considered odd.”

“You’re in the wrong circles,” I promised.

She pressed her lips together, considering for a second. “Maybe.”

“I’m honored you’d invite me,” I said. “I’m a yes, obviously. And Jack will be too since we’re chained together.”

“You don’t have to say yes immediately. I was going to pitch the story to you.” She rummaged through her tote bag for her phone.

“No pitch necessary. If you made it, I know it’s amazing.”

Her laugh was a bit dry this time, unconvinced by my flattery. “Sure.”

“It’s in the details,” I said quickly, trying to prove I wasn’t all-in simply because she was beautiful, and my heart sped up every time I knew she was in the vicinity.

“The colors you choose for your eyeliner. Rainy days are yellow. Sunny days are pink. Purple when there’s something big happening in the community center.

That’s when I know an event’s coming up and you’re in charge of prep. Then there’s…”

She stared at me like I’d grown another head. Or, just revealed how closely I’d been paying attention to small changes in her routine. Fuck. This was, without a doubt, not the way to talk to her to reduce the panic.

“What I meant to say…” I shrugged, trying to figure out how to run that back. “You seem like you make good art.”

You seem like you make good art? What the hell was wrong with me? I have crushed on dozens of people in my lifetime. Never have I ever struggled this much to flirt with them.

“I don’t know about that, but I hope I will one day.” She played with the end of one of her braids. “So…do you think you’d be free to set up a meeting to decide initial plans for the project? I have a PowerPoint that’ll help you prepare.”

“Love a good PowerPoint.”

“Oh, and my aunt’s the manager of the playhouse, so she can sign off on any form you need for your class. The hours won’t stretch outside of what the class requires, I swear.”

“Sounds good.” It was probably best that I kept my responses concise for the rest of the conversation or risk further awkward overly-detailed reveals.

“Good.” She lifted herself on the balls of her feet for a second.

It was a small move I’d seen her do with Naomi whenever she got excited over something they were talking about.

I smiled because I’m even hooked on her tiny expression of joy.

The motion made her braids sway, and I imagined touching them, the softness between my fingers as I held them off her neck.

“I’ll text you,” she promised.

“I’ll answer,” I said, in awe and out of it because this was really happening.

Celeste dipped her gaze down; her bottom lip pulled between her teeth in embarrassment. And I immediately realize what I’ve done.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I added quickly. I really, really needed to go home. Reset or something.

“Okay,” she said and moved her focus toward fishing out her keys. “I’ll see you…soon?”

“Soon,” I promised. And better than whatever the hell this was.