Perfect Fit (Serendipity's Finest 1)

Cara pivoted in her chair until their knees touched. “What is this?” She pointed back and forth between them.

“What are you talking about?”

“Me. You. Real conversation. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” She settled her blue eyes on him as she turned the tables.

He’d prodded her much the same way when he’d shown up at her house to visit his brother, so maybe he deserved it, Mike thought. He hadn’t exactly been a decent guy since his return.

“Since we have to work closely together now, it makes sense, doesn’t it?” He didn’t want to give away too much of what he was feeling. Hell, he couldn’t define it for himself, let alone verbalize his emotions.

She narrowed her gaze, studying him. “I suppose.”

“Here you go. A Manhattan for you.” Joe placed a new cocktail glass in front of Cara. “And a whiskey neat for the chief,” he said with a grin.

“Thanks,” Mike said.

“How’s Annie doing?” Cara asked Joe.

The bartender’s eyes lit up at the mention of his fiancée. “She’s great. We’re great. You got the wedding invitation, right?” he asked.

She smiled brightly. “You bet. I RSVP’d right away.”

Mike merely nodded.

Joe waved in dismissal. “I don’t pay attention to things like that. Who’s coming is Annie’s job. I just want to marry the woman.”

Cara’s pleased laugh expressed how she felt about that sentiment. “Well, I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it.”

“And not a minute too soon,” Joe said.

A happy couple, Mike thought, and took a drink, enjoying the first burn as the liquor slid down his throat.

“I knew you two would be good for each other.” Cara smiled, and warmth seeped through Mike’s veins.

He tried to tell himself it was the alcohol hitting his system and not her megawatt grin.

“Is Annie feeling well too?” Cara asked.

“No MS episodes for a while now,” Joe said, then glanced toward the sound of his name. “Gotta go. I’m being summoned at the other end of the bar.”

“Put it all on my tab,” Mike called out to the bartender before he made his escape.

“That’s not necessary,” Cara said.

He’d expected her protest. “Maybe not, but I’m doing it anyway.”

She shrugged. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now…what’s wrong?” he asked, bringing the subject back to where they were before Joe had interrupted.

She frowned at him, and he discovered—or should he say rediscovered—her dimples. “I had a rough day.” She took a long sip of her drink. “No, that’s wrong. I have it good. Someone else is going through a bad time.”

The pain in her voice bothered him. “Anyone I know?”

She shook her head. “I volunteer at Havensbridge.”

“The women’s shelter.” At her surprised look, he said, “I know we refer domestic violence victims there.”

“One of the women…she’s so demoralized, and I’m afraid she won’t hold out long enough to get help, that she’ll go back to her ex.”