Page 39 of Flint’s Strike

“We’ve been through some shit recently. All of us.”

Parker takes another bite of enchilada, this one with a long ribbon of poblano running straight through it. The lining of my esophagus cringes. I thought I could handle heat, but this is something else.

“The thing with his wife?”

“Grace.” The way Parker says her name tells me all I need to know. Grace Stone is important to her. Very important.

Nate returns with three ice-cold bottles of water. “Flint, shouldn’t you have been the one to get these? You’ve got some experience with hydrants…and hydrating.”

“Retired. I leave the hoses to the younger generation.”

He scoffs. “I’m the oldest one in this room by far. What are you, thirty-five?”

I sit up a little straighter. “Forty-four.”

Parker chokes on a sip of coffee. “You must have some skin care routine,” she says once she can breathe again. “Or you’ve had work done.”

If you only knew how much…

The room settles back into the quiet of three people who’ve been working too hard for too long and are enjoying a much needed break. Until Nate clears his throat.

“Time for an icebreaker,” he announces, shoving his now empty salad container into one of the takeout bags.

I look to Parker, who shrugs. “Nate’s mind runs at the speed of sound. Just go with it. Otherwise, he’ll start reciting random facts about giraffes. Or worse. Sperm whales.”

“Biggest predator on earth. Huge brains.” He finishes his latte, lets out an appreciative “Ahhhh,” and leans back in his chair. “But, I digress. You’re new here, Flint, so you get first crack at the hot seat. What do you do when you’re not doing this?”

“I…uh…knit.”

Parker’s brows shoot up. Nate drops the highlighter he was about to uncap. “Like…with yarn?”

Fuck. I should have stuck with something safer. Jigsaw puzzles. Cooking. “Yarn is generally involved, yes.” I don’t elaborate. No one needs to know why I knit. Or what I knit.

“So…sweaters? Hats?” Parker asks. She leans close enough our shoulders are only inches from touching again, and I get a whiff of her light, citrusy scent. It settles somewhere deep and permanent, somewhere I want to protect at all costs.

“Blankets. I’m not an expert. Cables are about as fancy as I get.”

Stop talking before you dig a hole so deep, you’ll never get out of it.

Parker angles her head, interest darkening those blue irises. “Got any pictures?”

“No. I…never thought to take any.” The heat building in my chest now has nothing to do with the enchiladas and everything to do with the woman sitting next to me.

“You should fix that,” she says. “Tonight.”

Through this entire exchange, Nate’s been studying me like a riddle he needs to solve. If I don’t get out of this conversation now, I’m gonna regret it.

Digging the flash drive out of my pocket, I toss it to him. “Want to throw those photos up on the monitor? I’ll walk you through the Round Rock scene.”

Nate catches the hunk of plastic and metal one-handed, and plugs it into his laptop. “So, you have a favorite color?”

“No.”

He arches a single brow. “You think you’re being mysterious, but that answer tells me more than if you’d just admitted it’s blue.”

I open my mouth, close it again.

How’d he know?