Page 13 of Fast Currents
We walked back to Front Street together, going our separate ways with a promise to meet up for a hike on South Beach Saturday.
Chapter 7 – Lucy
Friday dawned sunny with a light wind, so I took advantage of my morning to bike to the bakery. Nestled next to a grocery co-op on the outskirts of town, our bakery closed each weekend. If you didn’t get your carbs on time, you were stuck with store-bought. No one wanted that. Thus, the line that greeted me as I parked my bike at the rack and joined the queue.
The building itself looked more like a rustic home than a business. Lots of caramel-colored paneled wood inside and cedar shake on the exterior.
“Hiya, Harry,” I greeted Vi’s gaming friend and former roommate as I reached the front of the line.
She dipped her chin, a half-smile on her round cheeks. Her dark hair was caught up in a messy bun, and she wore the baker’s rough uniform of a tee shirt and jeans.
“Hey, Luce. Your regular?”
“Please.”
I stowed the loaf of sourdough in my backpack and accepted the cup of coffee and ham and cheese croissant she passed me,my stomach already grumbling, calling out for the warm, savory goodness.
“Thanks, Harry.”
I chose a spot at one of the picnic tables outside to enjoy my breakfast, watching a steady stream of islanders and visitors enter the bakery, leaving with pastries or loaves.
Islander. Visitor. Islander.
The little game I played, guessing whether someone was local or a tourist, had become way too easy. When I first moved to Friday Harbor, it’d been a good way to distract myself from thinking about Christopher. Now, I knew most of the bakery’s regulars. Hell, I was one.
I nodded at James Cox, a grizzled boat captain I recognized from the marina.
Leona Marks and Rachel Younce waved, chattering a mile a minute as they slipped inside.
I felt like a regular Mr. Rogers, greeting everyone in the neighborhood.Who even was I?
I picked at the last bit of black nail polish on my index finger.
Olympia was so big, it was unusual to run into people I knew. Here, I couldn’t help bumping into familiar faces everywhere. The only thing keeping my Loner Card from expiring was that I hadn’t dragged Rae or Anya along with me to the bakery. Somehow, somewhere in between my yoga classes, coffee runs, and art shows, over the last five years, I’d become part of Friday Harbor.
A familiar pink head caught my eye. Maybe I wasn’t quite the local legend that Barbara Fenwick was, but to be fair, she had a head start.
Gran flipped me the bird, walking on by, and I returned the gesture.
One of a kind, that woman.
A familiar truck pulled into a vacant spot, prompting a groan.
Of course it was Clay. Why not run intoeveryonetoday?
He slipped out of his truck, spotting me immediately. Clad in his brown Park Service uniform, he had no business looking that good. His broad chest stretched the fabric. His unruly hair was tamed beneath a hat. Jaw relaxed, eyes warm, he ate up the distance between us in big strides.
My pulse picked up as he drew closer, his gaze steady on me. He moved like a predator, smooth and silky. White teeth gleaming. Like he could eat me in a single bite.
“Hiya, Lucifer.”
“Clay.” I kept my greeting clipped. Maybe if I wasn’t too welcoming, he’d get what he came for inside and scram.
His cheeks creased, tiny lines forming around his eyes. Like my lack of welcome pleased him.
Contrary man.
He nodded to my cup. “You look like a sweet little ray of pitch-black today. Even have the coffee to match.”
