hollowness of Jordan’s voice. “And now?”
Jordan concentrated on scraping a piece of lint off his sweater. After a moment, he lifted his head. “Now?” he said. “I think I’m starting to crave a little bit of noise.”
Addie stuck her head in through the back door of the kitchen. “Hey, Jack, can you give me a hand?”
He looked up through a haze of steam from the open dishwasher door. “Sure.”
It was cold outside, and the mud sucked at the soles of his sneakers. Addie disappeared behind a high fence that enclosed the garbage bins. “I’m having a little trouble with the latch,” she said. Once Jack had followed her inside to check the mechanism, she snaked her arms around him. “Hi,” she said into the weave of his shirt.
He smiled. “Hi.”
“How are you?”
“Great. You?”
Addie smiled wider. “Greater.”
“Well, see you,” Jack teased, grinning as Addie hung onto him for all she was worth. Bubbles rose inside him, the carbonation of happiness. When was the last time someone had so badly wanted him to stay put? “Is there really a problem with the latch?”
“Absolutely,” Addie confessed. “I’m unhinged.”
She kissed him, then, pulling his arms around her waist to hold her. They were wrapped tight as a monkey’s paw, secluded from public view by the walls of the fence. The stench of refuse rose around them like a dank jungle, but all Jack could smell was the vanilla that seemed to come from the curve of Addie’s neck. He closed his eyes and thought if he could hold onto one moment for the next fifty years, this might be it.
Addie burrowed closer, and the movement set her off balance. They went tumbling backward, knocking over a row of metal garbage cans. The racket scattered the few birds who were whispering like old gossips about the two of them. They swooped over Jack and Addie, picking at spilled chicken bones and vegetable peels curled into tiny tornadoes, cawing disapproval.
Jack took the brunt of the fall. “This gives a whole new meaning to the term trashy romance.”
Addie was laughing, but at his words, she stopped. “Is that what this is?” she asked, a child standing in the presence of a rainbow and afraid to blink even once, for fear that it might be gone when she opened her eyes. “Are you my romance?”
Before Jack could answer, the door to the fence-unlatched-burst open, and he found himself staring into the single black eye of a revolver.
“Jesus, Wes, put that thing away!” Addie pushed herself off Jack and got to her feet, dusting off her uniform.
“I was walking by for a cup of coffee, and I heard the bins fall. I figured it might be a robber.”
“A robber? In the trash bins? Honestly, Wes. This is Salem Falls, not the set of Law and Order.”
Wes scowled, annoyed because Addie didn’t appreciate his daring rescue attempt. “You sure you’re all right?”
“Nothing deodorant soap won’t cure. I knocked over the trash can, that’s all. Last time I checked, that wasn’t even a misdemeanor.”
But Wes wasn’t listening. He was staring at Jack, who’d been pulled upright by Addie and was still grasping her hand. Neither one seemed inclined to let go, and even more strange, neither one seemed to realize they were holding onto each other.
“Oh,” Wes said, his voice very soft. “It’s like that.”
“He works in a diner,” Whitney said, drawing on her straw until it made a slurping noise. “What would your father think if he knew you were hot for a guy nearly his own age who washes glasses for a living?”
Gillian drew a fat J in the grease on her plate. “Money isn’t everything, Whit.”
“Easy to say when you’ve got it.”
Gilly did not hear her. She scowled, wondering why Addie had been the only employee to come into the restaurant part of the diner. If she didn’t even see Jack, her spell would never work. Gillian lifted her elbow and deliberately knocked over a milkshake. “We need some napkins over here!”
Addie sighed at the mess but
Jordan concentrated on scraping a piece of lint off his sweater. After a moment, he lifted his head. “Now?” he said. “I think I’m starting to crave a little bit of noise.”
Addie stuck her head in through the back door of the kitchen. “Hey, Jack, can you give me a hand?”
He looked up through a haze of steam from the open dishwasher door. “Sure.”
It was cold outside, and the mud sucked at the soles of his sneakers. Addie disappeared behind a high fence that enclosed the garbage bins. “I’m having a little trouble with the latch,” she said. Once Jack had followed her inside to check the mechanism, she snaked her arms around him. “Hi,” she said into the weave of his shirt.
He smiled. “Hi.”
“How are you?”
“Great. You?”
Addie smiled wider. “Greater.”
“Well, see you,” Jack teased, grinning as Addie hung onto him for all she was worth. Bubbles rose inside him, the carbonation of happiness. When was the last time someone had so badly wanted him to stay put? “Is there really a problem with the latch?”
“Absolutely,” Addie confessed. “I’m unhinged.”
She kissed him, then, pulling his arms around her waist to hold her. They were wrapped tight as a monkey’s paw, secluded from public view by the walls of the fence. The stench of refuse rose around them like a dank jungle, but all Jack could smell was the vanilla that seemed to come from the curve of Addie’s neck. He closed his eyes and thought if he could hold onto one moment for the next fifty years, this might be it.
Addie burrowed closer, and the movement set her off balance. They went tumbling backward, knocking over a row of metal garbage cans. The racket scattered the few birds who were whispering like old gossips about the two of them. They swooped over Jack and Addie, picking at spilled chicken bones and vegetable peels curled into tiny tornadoes, cawing disapproval.
Jack took the brunt of the fall. “This gives a whole new meaning to the term trashy romance.”
Addie was laughing, but at his words, she stopped. “Is that what this is?” she asked, a child standing in the presence of a rainbow and afraid to blink even once, for fear that it might be gone when she opened her eyes. “Are you my romance?”
Before Jack could answer, the door to the fence-unlatched-burst open, and he found himself staring into the single black eye of a revolver.
“Jesus, Wes, put that thing away!” Addie pushed herself off Jack and got to her feet, dusting off her uniform.
“I was walking by for a cup of coffee, and I heard the bins fall. I figured it might be a robber.”
“A robber? In the trash bins? Honestly, Wes. This is Salem Falls, not the set of Law and Order.”
Wes scowled, annoyed because Addie didn’t appreciate his daring rescue attempt. “You sure you’re all right?”
“Nothing deodorant soap won’t cure. I knocked over the trash can, that’s all. Last time I checked, that wasn’t even a misdemeanor.”
But Wes wasn’t listening. He was staring at Jack, who’d been pulled upright by Addie and was still grasping her hand. Neither one seemed inclined to let go, and even more strange, neither one seemed to realize they were holding onto each other.
“Oh,” Wes said, his voice very soft. “It’s like that.”
“He works in a diner,” Whitney said, drawing on her straw until it made a slurping noise. “What would your father think if he knew you were hot for a guy nearly his own age who washes glasses for a living?”
Gillian drew a fat J in the grease on her plate. “Money isn’t everything, Whit.”
“Easy to say when you’ve got it.”
Gilly did not hear her. She scowled, wondering why Addie had been the only employee to come into the restaurant part of the diner. If she didn’t even see Jack, her spell would never work. Gillian lifted her elbow and deliberately knocked over a milkshake. “We need some napkins over here!”
Addie sighed at the mess but
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