Winter Solstice in St. Nacho's (St. Nacho's #5) - Z.A. Maxfield Page 0,2
hoarsely.
“Could I buy you a cup of coffee?”
He stopped walking, turned a scathing gaze my way, and said, “Not interested.”
“Not even for—”
“Not even if you were the last dude on earth. Back. Off.”
Wait. What? “Maybe you remember me? I’m—”
Swearing softly, he tilted his head. “Buick LaCrosse? Kind of maroon, but it was hard to tell in the dark. Kid seat in the back? Smelled like cheerios and bad milk?”
I had no idea what he was talking about. “No, I don’t—”
“Wait. I know. Chevy Silverado? NRA bumper stickers? I bailed because you wanted it raw?”
My mouth dropped open. “What?”
“Are you bridge guy? Or the guy from the river preserve. Whatever. I’m closed for repairs.”
“Thuong, I’m from the library. I—”
“So, what? You’re Conan the librarian?” He studied me from head to toe and clucked dismissively. “Love the fanny pack. Very chic.”
I put my hands over the bag defensively. “I—”
“You administered Narcan. Thanks. I’m fresh out of medals.”
My jaw dropped. “I don’t want a medal.”
I don’t know what I expected, but this wasn’t it. I knew better. I knew he wouldn’t say, “Why yes, I could use a cup of coffee and maybe some guidance about how to turn this ride to nowhere around.” I didn’t think he’d be so mean.
“Some other time, babe. I need to go back to the library.”
“Library’s closed. You’ll have to wait.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He stalked out the ER door and into the soft evening air. The slight humidity felt like the warm touch of a paintbrush over my skin. It cooled my cheeks where tears had gathered.
I followed him anyway. “Do you have a plan at least?”
“What’s it to you?” He turned toward me again, angrier this time. “Your work here is done.”
“Let me buy you dinner.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Coffee then. Let me buy you coffee.”
The muscles in his jaw flexed. “Candy.”
“What?”
“Buy me candy. And pop.”
“Sure. Of course.” Sugar would help any cravings he had. If I’d thought about it, I’d have gone to the store and bought some before he came out.
He held up his hand, and I bumped into it.
“Fair warning. I’m nauseated. Pretty soon, I’ll sweat, barf, maybe crap my pants. I’ll get so cold I’ll shake like a rocket on reentry. Every muscle will cramp, and the pain will be…” He stopped. Sighed. “You don’t want to be anywhere near me when that happens because I’ll sell your eyes to get well. Got it?”
I nodded. “My car’s over here.”
“Am I going to recognize it?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Did we… do business?”
“It’s a Prius.” I unlocked the driver’s side door. “Doubt you could do business in it.”
“You’d be surprised. I’m very flexible.” He got in and adjusted the seat. He had long legs—long, skinny legs in jeans that stank, now that we were in an enclosed space.
I opened the window and turned on the air.
“Sorry.” He flushed. “I smell like death.
I gave a pained grunt.
“Too soon?” He smirked.
“Indeed.”
We stopped at a convenience store where I paid for fifty dollars’ worth of kid-type candy and pop. Pure sugar, food dye, and cancer-causing agents.
“Happy whatever,” I said after I signed the receipt.
“Thanks.” He glanced away.
“I need food. Will you come with me?”
Indecision flickered over his features. Thick brows lowered. His full mouth pursed. I remembered that mouth. First, because it used to spew absolute nonsense twenty-four seven, and second, because it always seemed upside down to me—the upper lip eclipsing the lower lip in size and fullness.
“Thuong, I’m not an idiot. I just want to help however I can.”
“What if you can’t help?” he asked. “What if I don’t want your help?”
“Then take the candy and come with me to Denny’s so I can eat. After that, you can go wherever.”
“I could go wherever now.”
“Sure. But then you’d never know what the red-white-and-blue sprinkle pancakes at Denny’s taste like when I do my secret special thing to them.”
“Okay. But God, stop talking about food, will you? You’re making me sick.” He frowned, but got back in my car. I took that as a win. His capitulation was more than I’d expected. Maybe it was even more than I deserved.
It’s hard to stop a runaway freight train.
I didn’t believe I had that kind of strength, but I was forced by old habits and family ties to try.
Chapter Three
Denny’s was a mistake. There was a crowd there, for starters. A quick look around said the packed seating area was the result of a winning middle school football