Finding Mr. Write (Business of Love #5) - Ali Parker Page 0,23

But it’s your treat, big shot. I don’t have cash to throw around on chow mein and curry.”

I chuckled. “Deal. Get in.”

Briar let her purse fall from her shoulder and opened the door. She dropped her bag on the floor in front of her seat and passed her umbrella over the headrest into the backseat. Then she slid inside, closed the door behind her, and put her seatbelt on.

Her stomach growled.

She pressed two hands to her belly and offered me an apologetic look. “Sorry, I’m starving. A soon as you said Thai, I was done for. I didn’t get around to having breakfast this morning. I just wanted to start handing out resumes.”

“We’ll take the fastest route to the restaurant then.”

My favorite Thai restaurant in the city was a little hole in the wall place about six miles outside of Times Square. It was owned by an elderly couple, who’d long since handed management down to their daughter and her husband, who had been running it smoothly for the last decade. Now their children worked there as well. They had two sons and two daughters, and everyone pulled their weight at the restaurant and seemed to love working together. Every time I’d been there, laughter always flowed out of the kitchen and the staff joked with their customers so regularly that the banter had become an expected part of the experience.

Briar and I took our seats at a table near the window, which was trimmed in Christmas lights year-round, and picked up our laminated menus.

I already knew I wanted spicy cashew chicken. Briar, however, seemed unsure what she should order. I went over some options with her until she eventually decided on a red curry with bamboo, carrots, mint leaves, peppers, and coconut rice. She ordered hers with tofu and we sipped water while we waited for our food and scrolled through rental listings on our phones.

Briar wanted something within walking distance of her new job. That added up since she didn’t have a car.

“I’m not opposed to something a little further away so long as it’s on a public transit route,” she said as she adjusted the filters on her search. “But I don’t want a commute that’s more than twenty minutes, if possible.”

“People are always looking for roommates in New York,” I told her. “There’s such high turnover here. People get opportunities out of town and need to rent their place out. Or someone couldn’t make it work out here so they’re moving home. There are endless possibilities.”

“Affordable ones?” she asked suspiciously.

“Ahh.” I chuckled, tapping the side of my nose. “There’s the rub.”

Briar didn’t have much money to throw at her rent every month and I doubted the coffee shop would pay much above minimum wage. If she chose a place wisely and was mindful of her spending, she’d just be able to make ends meet.

I wished I could help her with something a little nicer. Maybe something she wouldn’t have to share with a stranger. All she needed was a one-bedroom apartment nearby. Perhaps something with a nice view and some stable businesses on the ground levels that attracted good business and honest folks. It was easy to end up in the wrong part of town here.

But I doubted there was a classy way to offer her financial aid. Even if there was a good way to offer it, I knew full well she’d say no. She’d already told me she wanted to make it out here on her own. Handouts weren’t her style.

“I like the look of this one,” Briar said as she scrolled through the posted pictures of a listing on her phone. “Nine hundred dollars per month. Shared utilities. Two bedrooms. One bathroom, but that’s not the end of the world. And the current resident is a girl my age.” She held her phone out to me. “What do you think?”

I flipped through the photos of an apartment with plenty of natural light, light gray laminate floors, and bare walls. Whoever lived there either had just moved in or didn’t have the cash flow to spruce the place up and make it lived in. Either way, it didn’t matter.

“It looks nice,” I said. “Clean, too.”

“I’m going to email her and ask if I can come see it.”

I gave Briar back the phone. “Good idea.”

Our food arrived as Briar finished wrapping up her email. She put her phone away and leaned over her bowl of curry so she could inhale deeply. She closed her eyes