Untraceable

Survival Skill #10

“A real man never gives away his fighting strategy.”

I rub my eyes and give a fake yawn. “I bet. Anyway, the dude came in here and slapped down a thousand big ones for a really expensive knife. Barely blinked.”

“Must be nice.” Wyn plays with the fishing lure display. It topples over, spreading hooks and flies all over the carpet.

I groan. “Smooth move, Slick.” We both bend over to pick up the pointy hazards and almost knock heads.

He doesn’t move back. Instead, he hovers an inch from my face. “Did you ask Tommy about that hill?”

“Sidehill? Yeah. He’s never heard of it.”

“Want me to ask my connections?”

I put my hand over his face. “If you mean Carl, no. He probably knows it’s in the file, and he’ll wonder why you’re asking.”

“Speaking of file, I put it back.”

I prick my finger on a hook and suck on the bead of blood. “That was quick.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to carry it around town. Captain was out, so I went for it. Almost got nabbed too. And if I had, don’t think for a second I wouldn’t have thrown you under the short bus.”

I plant a fake punch on his chin. “I know you better than that.”

He shrugs. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“I love it.” I flash him a big smile and return the display to its upright position.

“Well, I’m going to go meet … I mean, I gotta go.” He’s obviously about to hook up with Skyler again and didn’t want to utter the S word.

“Okay.”

He walks backward. “You up for a game night tonight? Haven’t hung out in a while. I need to get my revenge for the last time we played Scrabble.”

I pretend to fiddle with the little boxes of impulse buys next to the register. “You seem pretty confident for someone who lost.”

“Persistence is a state of mind.”

“So is crazy.”

“You would know.” He widens his eyes. “Anyway, it’s not about winning. It’s how you play the game that really matters.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, right. You don’t believe that anymore than I do.”

He flashes me a wide Cheshire-cat grin and shrugs. “Yeah. I know, but it sounded real sportsmanlike. So are we on?”

I check my watch. Break time. “Can’t. Got up early. All I can think about is food and bed.”

His gaze turns soft for a brief moment. A few uncomfortable seconds pass between us until he breaks through the awkward silence. “Well, maybe next time then?”

I straighten a stack of invoices, trying to hide my disappointment that he’s leaving again. “Uh, yeah … sure. I’ll call you.”

His face flushes a bit as if he’s hot, and he abruptly heads for the door. “If you’re lucky, I’ll answer.” He waves over his shoulder without glancing back, then rubs the back of his head, which tells me he’s smiling. Somehow, even when I can’t see his face, I know exactly what’s going on just by his gestures.

After Wyn leaves, a mixture of emotions stirs around inside me. Why is it guys always seem cuter after you break up? In Wyn’s case, he’s never been hot cute, just adorable cute. But mostly, I’ve always digged his sense of humor. He makes me laugh even when I don’t want to. On paper, we’re probably the perfect pair. A comfortable blend. So different, not alike in most ways, yet still go together somehow. Like peanut butter and jelly or cookies and milk.