Page 51 of Off the Wall

“Also, Dorothy broke down,” I add, slipping on a sweater. “But don’t worry. I’m totally handling everything. On my own.”

“Let me guess.” East guffaws. “Did you forget to change the oil?”

“I’ve gotta go,” I chirp brightly. “I’m biking to work, and I can’t be late.”

Chapter Seventeen

Cash

After a weekof mostly restless nights, I give in to the impulse to visit Nori at work. Maybe seeing her in real life this morning will help me stop thinking about her all day long.

Yeah, right. Good luck with that.

Either way, I figure I’ll grab a bunch of croissants and scones and stuff to bring with me to the hospital. Bribe the staff with sugar. See Nori.

Everyone benefits.

As I enter the shop, the bell above the door jingles, announcing my arrival. Nori’s behind the counter, stationed between a blonde at the register and a tall, lanky kid handing to-go drinks to customers. She flashes me a crooked smile, and my heart answers with an extra thud. I wait in line, trying to keep my excitement at bay. When I finally reach the front, Nori faces me at the counter.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Her lip curves up and a wave of warmth moves through me. “No cases today?”

“No.” I wince, immediately wishing I’d offered to driveher to work. “I guess I could’ve given you a ride instead of you having to bike in.”

“Nah. Red and I had a great morning. I like her. And my cardiovascular health thanks you.”

The girl at the register clears her throat. “Can I help you?” Her name tag reads Yvette.

“I’ve got a pretty big order,” I say, hoping my smile is appropriately apologetic.

“We can handle it,” Nori says.

“In that case, I’ll take a dozen cheese croissants, a dozen chocolate chip scones, and a dozen blueberry muffins. And also a box of those cookies from Serendipitous Sweets. A variety’s good. To go, please.”

“Got it,” the kid at the to-go counter calls out.

“Thanks, Ben,” Yvette says, entering the order into the register. Meanwhile, the kid named Ben slips three pink cardboard boxes off the shelf.

Nori puffs out a laugh. “Carbo loading for a big race?”

“No, just treating the hospital staff.” I slip a credit card from my wallet, tap the reader, and drop a twenty in the tip jar.

Flex.

But also, everyone at Springs Memorial works hard, and I can afford the twenty bucks. Unfortunately, this gets me wondering how many of Nori’s Swipe Rite dates are good tippers.

She nods at the tip jar. “That was awfully nice of you.”

“I’m nice. Remember?”

“I do.” She tips her chin. “Can I at least offer you a free coffee?”

“Coffee’s not really my thing.”

“You haven’t tried my lavender latte.” She inclines her head to indicate an empty stretch of counter. “Slide over there out of Yvette’s way, and I’ll change your mind.”

“I don’t think?—”

“Are you afraid I might make you love coffee?” Without waiting for a reply, she grabs a stainless steel pitcher and a carafe of something white. “I hope oat milk’s okay.”

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