“Hi.” I glance over my shoulder, praying no one sees me meeting one of my patients after work.
“I would’ve come in to meet you, but…” He raises an eyebrow.
“Yeah, that wouldn’t have been good.” I quickly scan the parking lot. But, yeah, I have no idea what his vehicle looks like.
“I’m over here.” He gestures toward the corner of the parking lot farthest from my building.
“My car’s right by that lamp post. Let me drop this off.” I point to my car and hold up my tote bag.
He’s quiet while I open the back door and toss the bag inside.
“Do you want to take separate cars?” he asks.
“No. As long as you don’t mind dropping me off here later.”
His warm smile makes me feel like I made the right choice. “Not at all.”
More silence on the way to his truck. Is he as nervous as I am? Or worried someone will see us? Regretting asking me out? He’s a completely closed book to me.
We stop at a black Ford pickup truck, many years newer than my car. Recently paroled or not, Grayson seems to be doing okay for himself.
He opens my door and offers his hand to help me step into the truck. Heat crackles over my skin when our fingers connect. I stare at him but his face is shadowy from the weak, yellow parking lot lights.
“Thank you.” I hoist myself into the seat and he closes my door.
Deep breath. Why am I so nervous?
His door swings open, bringing a swirl of cold air inside the cab of the truck. He presses the unlock button and opens the back door. Curious, I peer into the back. He pulls a large white box off the seat and slams the door shut.
“This is for you,” he says, sliding into the driver’s side and holding out the box to me.
“For me?” I grasp the bulky package and set it in my lap.
“It’s not gonna bite you,” he says, staring at my hands.
I carefully pry the lid off. Grayson reaches for the interior light and flicks it on so I can see better.
A bright, sapphire-blue ski jacket’s nestled inside the box under layers of tissue paper.
I gasp and run my fingers over the material.
“You bought me…a coat?” My throat’s so tight, I barely get the words out. No one’s ever done something this nice for me. My own mother didn’t care if I had warm clothes to go to school in. Growing up, I spent many, many mornings freezing my butt off at the bus stop.
I barely know Grayson. And yet, he did this sweet thing for me.
He clears his throat and shifts in his seat. “If you don’t like it, I can…”
“No. I love it. Really.” I unfold it from the box and squeeze it to my chest. It’s a brand name I’d never be able to afford. Tags dangle from the sleeve, but someone blacked the price out with a marker.
Grayson reaches over and digs through the tissue paper in the box. “The girl put a gift receipt in there somewhere—”
“I’m not returning it, Grayson.”
“It’s the same size as your other coat, so I hope it fits.”
“I think it will.” I’m eager to try it on so he won’t worry. I open my door and hop out. Quickly, I shimmy out of my ratty wool coat and toss it on the passenger seat. I unzip the new jacket, noting the double layers of insulation and water-resistant outer shell. I slip it on, and it fits perfectly. No more getting wet and cold this winter.
Grayson’s boots crunch over the pavement as he walks around the truck and meets me at the open door. “I hope you like the color. Your other one was blue, so…”
“I love it.” I trace my fingers over the sporty hot pink reflective stripe running along the sleeve. “It’s really pretty.”
The first true smile of the night softens his face.
“Thank you so much, Grayson. You didn’t have to do this, though. It had to be expensive.”
He shrugs as if the cost doesn’t matter. “I wanted to do something to make up for leaving the other morning.”
My throat tightens, choking off a response. “You didn’t have to,” I whisper.
He rests his hand on my shoulder. “Wear it in good health, Serena.”
It’s such a formal thing to say, and it turns my mouth up. “I will.”
“You must be hungry after working all day. Let’s go eat.”
My grin stretches even wider. “Okay. But let me pay for dinner. You’ve—”
His harsh bark of laughter cuts me off. “Fuck no.”
I think I insulted him. But I try again. “It’s only fair…”
“It’s not happening,” he says in a gruffer tone. “Get in the truck.”
I scoot into the truck.
He slams my door shut and walks around the front.
Worried he’s mad at me now, I twist my fingers together in my lap.