Page 33 of Known By You
His smile started small, a drop in a lake, then expanded and grew, rippling out until it felt like his entire being was beaming over at me.
“That’s what I like to hear.”
It should’ve concerned me how much his approval and joy made me happy, too.
“Good,” I said, shifting awkwardly and keeping my eyes away from his sunshiny face.
“And so, as your friend, I need to show you around. Give you the best chance at getting to know Silverton.”
I scowled even as my heart slipped. “Jo can show me. Or my dad.”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Eh. They could. But we both have tomorrow off, and I bet you neither of them does. Let me show you around tomorrow, at least. Give you something to do on a day off.” He glanced over at me, but his attention slid back to the road.
He couldn’t know I was dreading the day without anything to do. I could go see Jane, whom I liked, but shehad a way of seeing right through me and I didn’t feel like dealing with that right now.
“That could work…” I said, perpetually cagey with making plans.
Part of me wanted to curl up with a book and some coffee and not move. But lately, doing this pressed down on me and caused a weighty, oppressive sensation. It was old school body armor with the high neck collar and it had the potential to suffocate.
“Oh, it’ll work. Perfect. And since I know you heard me raving about the donuts, we’re starting at Glazed.”
I hadn’t had a good donut in a while. Europeans just didn’t do donuts the same way the US did, and I couldn’t deny the draw of having this deeply enthusiastic person show me the ropes of what must be one of his favorite places based on the way he seemed to buzz with energy now that we’d made the plans.
“Alright, then. You can show me the world of Glazed.”
“Great. Then it’s a—” he cleared his throat. “Plan.”
Right.
A friendly plan.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Kenny
It’s not a date. Not a date. Not a daaaaate.
I’d been chanting this to myself as I woke, ran on the treadmill, lifted, showered, dressed, and parked at the Saint building. No sense in taking up street parking during tourist season, especially on a snowy day when they’d need to plow regularly.
Liz exited the building where she was staying right as I crossed the street to her block. My stomach clutched as I took in her boots, jeans, and a puffy coat. She tugged a hat over her head and shivered when a gust of wind blew past. She looked so comfortable and normal… and cold.
“Let’s get moving and get you inside,” I said by way of greeting.
She tucked her arms around her waist and dipped her chin into her jacket. “Works for me. I didn’t realize it was this cold today.”
The sky was gray and the light on the flat side. Often, the bluebird days could be colder, but this one felt almost like an Eastern cold despite not having any humidity to drill down to your bones. “We’ll let Elise’s dough babies warm us from the inside out.”
We shuffled along the sidewalk past storefronts, past the lure of espresso in Joe—I’ll be back for you, my love!—and into the bright pink door of Glazed.
A bell jingled overhead, and we heard a cheery, “Welcome in,” from somewhere up front, though I could barely see the counter because there was a line six people deep.
“This place is… wow.”
Liz’s gaze traveled over the bright pink walls, the white tables and chairs, and the neon sign that saidGet Glazed. The menu ahead was an old-fashioned letter board with donut flavors and pricing per single, half dozen, or dozen. It had an effortless feel to it despite how trendy and bright it was. Somehow, Elise had managed to create a store that said, “Welcome to this cool place you want to hang out, but literally all we sell is donuts.” No coffee at all. They did have water and milk for sale, but otherwise, she happily directed patrons next door to Joe.
“It is. Just wait ’til you get your mouth on one of those babies.” I nodded toward the display case, then froze.
Slowly, I turned to her.
