Page 18 of To Catch a Latte Thick as Thieves

“What makes them eccentric? Just because they don’t want to get married...”

“They’re very granola,” he interrupted with a sigh. “They’ve never owned a home. I grew up in a converted school bus, driving all over the country, while my parents cataloged rare and new species of birds for the Audubon Society. They’re ornithologists.”

“Really? That’s amazing,” she said. “You must have felt like a gypsy all your life.”

“Pretty close,” he agreed. “I never knew when I woke up in the morning, where we’d be. Sometimes it was exciting, but most of the time it was awful. It was no way to raise three kids.”

“You have siblings?”

“Two sisters, Piper and Wren.”

“Unusual names,” she said.

“My father named us after whatever bird they happened to be studying at the time.”

“Fisher? I don’t know any bird by that name,” she said.

“It’s shortened,” he said, cursing himself for having gotten into this conversation. He hated talking about his family. They were so unexplainable. He hated to see people’s reactions to his unconventional upbringing. But Annie was so easy to talk to, it had just slipped out.

“Shortened for what?” she asked.

Fisher turned onto the exit for their road. He stopped at the end of the exit ramp and turned to face her. “It’s short for Kingfisher,” he said and held his breath, waiting for the usual laughter that accompanied this disclosure.

She smiled at him. “I like it,” she said. “It suits you.”

Taken aback, he gaped at her. The light turned green and they just sat there.

“You don’t like your name?” she guessed.

A honk behind them prompted Fisher to start driving again as he tried to think of how to explain.

“It’s not that I dislike it, it’s just that I’ve spent my entire life explaining it. It’s embarrassing.”

“Well, it could be worse,” she said. “Your parents could have been studying woodpeckers. Then what would your nickname be? Woody or Pecker? Now that name would have been embarrassing.”

Fisher pulled up in front of The Coffee Break just as Annie finished her speech. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Had she just...? He switched off the engine and turned to look at her. She winked at him and he felt himself grin. Annie understood. Without his having to explain it, she understood what it had been like. The years of being constantly uprooted, always an outsider looking in. And in true Annie fashion, she refused to let him take himself too seriously. In a world where most people saw the glass as half empty or half full, Fisher marveled that Annie’s glass was always full.

With a laugh, he cupped her chin and pulled her face close. “Woody or Pecker? You’re a riot, Annie-girl.”

Her gaze met his for just the briefest moment, before she turned away. It was as if she were afraid he would see too much in her glance, as if she were trying to avoid revealing herself, her feelings, to him. Fisher felt the sharp point of curiosity poke him.

He wanted to know what she thought and how she felt. His thumb was pressing against the soft flesh of her chin, and he saw her lips quiver just a half inch above his finger. If he slid his thumb up, he could stroke that full lower lip.

Leaning back, he released her. She was a suspect! She was adorable and charming, but she was still a suspect. He had no right to be thinking of her lips and how they would feel beneath his.

“Come on,” he said, clearing the gravel out of his throat. “I’ll walk you up.”

She leaped from the car and Fisher found cold comfort in the fact that she was just as edgy as he was.

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