When We Touch

As I take out the ingredients, my mind bounces from my conversation with her to the strange conversation I just had with BP. My phone buzzes, and I place the eggs, milk, and butter on the heavy wooden table where I work.

“Who’s texting me?” I lift the device then do a little shiver. “Probably Bucky Pepper.”

I’m sorry if I went too far last night.

Frowning, my eyes go to the door.

Who is this?

I text back, looking at the windows. I notice bits of the scaffolding have moved closer to my building. Fluttery nerves tighten my stomach. It’s as if the metal bars surrounding me are a trap.

I hope you’ll let me see you again. We need to talk.

How did you get this number?

Several seconds pass, and the only noise is Coco humming as she assembles her brightly colored dough. I don’t see any little dots or indication a reply is on the way.

“Jackson Cane,” I say under my breath. “You’d better answer me.”

Just then the bell over the door rings, and my best friend enters. I don’t miss her nodding to someone outside.

“Good morning!” Tabby calls out happily.

“Aunt Tabby!” Coco shouts. “I’m making yellow monster cuatro!”

“Yellow monster cuatro! Let me guess… He’s number four?”

“Cuatro!” Coco cries as if she’s at the bullfights.

“Cuatro!” my friend echoes.

I’m standing at the table, arms crossed and waiting.

“What’s twisting your panties?” Tabby drops her bag on the opposite end of the counter.

“I just got a text from someone who shouldn’t have my number.”

“Telemarketer?” With a little skip, she pulls out a notepad and a pen. “Speaking of which, I was thinking I’d get started on your online store. I’ll need pictures… What else? Let’s discuss.”

“Okay, for starters why did you give Jackson Cane my number without my permission?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says with a little laugh as she continues scribbling on her notepad.

My phone buzzes again.

Don’t be mad at Tabby.

“Don’t…” I turn to the window, and electricity flashes when my eyes meet Jackson’s. He gives me a wink, and my mouth drops open.

Tabby frowns and looks over her shoulder, spotting him. “Talk about throwing people under the bus,” she mutters.

She flips him the bird then all I see are legs as he continues up the scaffolding. “He’s starting on the balcony?” I look at the ceiling overhead. “I thought he would start at the bottom!”

Chewing my lip, I try to remember how I left the place this morning.

“Underwear all over the floor?” Tabby teases.

I wave frantically at her. “Keep your voice down. He can hear everything we say.”