The slap of the door had them both freezing.
“Well, this is awkward.”
Tucker. Norah didn’t have to see his face to know he was grinning.
Cam slid his hands free of her sweater and tugged it down. He eased back, just a bit for decency—as if it wasn’t too late for that—but continued to block her with his body.
“Christ, McGee, could you possibly have worse timing?”
“I’m pretty sure five minutes later would’ve been worse.”
“Oh God, I’m just going to die now.” Norah buried her face in Cam’s chest and willed them both to sink through the floor.
Cam swore.
“Come on man, you didn’t put a sock on the door or anything.”
“You’re going to turn around and leave, right now, without another word, or you’re going to end up with my fist in your face.”
“No can do, buddy boy. I’ve been dispatched by Violet to drag you in by your hair if necessary. She’s been trying to get you for an hour. She said there’s some problem with the Keaney job for tomorrow.”
“Damn it. Fine. I’ll take care of it.”
“Oh no, I’m supposed to make sure your ass actually gets to the nursery. I have been threatened with having my pie privileges revoked at Dinner Belles. You know she could talk her mama into it. I’m not willing to risk it. Happy to give you time to compose yourself, though. I’ll just be outside.”
The door thumped shut behind them.
Cam dropped his forehead to hers. “That’s not how I saw that going.”
“I officially cannot show my face in town, ever again. I should sneak out under cover of darkness, while I still can.”
“It was just Tucker. He’ll give me shit about it, but it’s nothing to worry about. And it’s not like people don’t know we’re involved.”
“Knowing we’re involved and knowing we almost…on a desk, in a public building are totally different things.”
“Only semi-public. It’s not usually open.”
“So not the point. This is not the place for a quickie.”
He cupped her cheek, rubbed a thumb across her lips. “A quickie wasn’t what I had in mind.”
Norah closed her eyes, absorbing the touch. “Then it’s a good thing we got interrupted.”
“I can be done with this in forty-five minutes. An hour, tops.”
And if she was lucky, she wouldn’t spontaneously combust in the meantime. “Meet you at your place.”
Norah waited until she was sure Cam and Tucker would be gone, until she was sure she could walk without the friction of her slacks making her blush. Then she locked the door to the depot and crossed the green toward her car, parked at the opposite end, near the fountain. The evening air was cool, and she was grateful for the dark. Nobody who saw her in the glow of the street lamps would notice anything amiss. Probably. The few souls she saw were headed for Dinner Belles or Speakeasy, or slipping into the Mudcat for a beer. All save one who stood very still beside the fountain. Something in his posture was unbearably sad.
She almost didn’t stop. In Chicago, she’d have gone straight for her car without giving the guy more than a passing glance. But this wasn’t Chicago, so she slowed, stepping quietly up beside him. Dressed in jeans and a black pea coat, Norah pegged him to be in his late forties, a bit younger and a lot fitter than her father. And he looked…lost. Not like he needed directions somewhere local, but direction for his life.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Always was,” the stranger agreed. “Though it still ran the last time I was here.”
“Been away a while?”
“Almost thirty years.”