Page 135 of Last Call

“Hey, Pete—did you see the diagnostic on...”

Parker paused mid-sentence, spotting Barb.

Barb's breath caught. Parker's hair hung loose today, a few strands brushing her cheek. She wore a gray T-shirt stamped with the Periodic Table—now decorated with a grease smear over Helium and Neon.

“Oh." Parker stammered slightly. “You’re back.”

Barb’s lips unconsciously curved. “I wondered if I'd see you…”

Pete raised an eyebrow and wisely stayed silent.

Parker sauntered forward, casually wiping her hands on a rag. “Well, I usually spend Thursday afternoons in the Hamptons, but this..." Parker waved a hand around the shop. "Is hard to give up."

Barb chuckled.

Pete cleared his throat. “I’ll…just look for that diagnostic report.”

Parker smirked. “He’s not subtle.”

“Not in the slightest.”

“So,” Parker said, shifting her weight. "I took her for a spin. Nice ride."

"Thanks. It's not the most practical car with kids."

"So, you'd rather trade your Beamer for that Subaru?"

"I don't know," Barb said. "Maybe."

"Hm. We could discuss the pros and cons over dinner."

"Dinner?"

"I know you eat. I saw it with my own eyes," Parker quipped. "Do you like pizza?"

"I do."

"Do your kids like pizza?"

"They like anything that qualifies as junk food or fast food," Barb said.

"How about pizza tomorrow? If you're not busy. Besides, I want to know how that camping trip went."

"One condition. I'm buying,” Barb said.

"Okay. I'll pick you up in my Subaru."

"Do you actually own a Subaru?"

Parker grinned.

Barb shook her head.

"Pick you up at five?” Parker suggested.

"You don't know where I live."

"Do so."

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