I leaned back, uncomfortable with just how close he was getting. Someone hadn’t learned about personal space. “I’m sorry. Those are for law enforcement purposes only.”
He blew out a breath, shaking his head as the wave of mint met my nose. “Shoot.”
“You can look up passport travel records online via the Department of Homeland Security’s site,” I suggested.
“Oh yeah?” he asked, raising a perfectly sculpted brow. God he was pretty. He’d probably had his waxed more recently than mine. “What would I need for that?”
“It shouldn’t require anything more than your name and passport number.”
His lips twisted as he looked me over again, running a hand along his squared jaw, the scrape of stubble loud and clear. “Hm. Okay.”
“Depending what you’re looking for, you could search public records with me.” He might as well try after hiking downstairs, our building’s elevator down for maintenance for at least another week. Who knew elevator parts were so hard to come by?
His nostrils flared as his hands rolled the magazine tight again. For a split second, I worried he’d whack me with it like a bug. “Been there, done that.”
“Is there anything specific you’re looking for?” I was used to fielding requests for everything from lawsuits to research papers, but I had no clue what the gossip-rag reader wanted.
A rough sigh exploded from his lips, jingling my guts all the more. “I’m trying to piece history together for my own sanity.”
I couldn’t be sure, but I swore I saw a bit of myself in his eyes, his frustration obvious. I knew how it felt to have unanswered questions. “The archives are great for searching family records.”
He nodded, glancing down as he shifted the rolled magazine to his left hand nervously. “You’d need a name for that, right?”
I nodded, offering a smile. Clearly he was worked up, and sometimes a smile was all someone needed for a bit of hope. “Yes, but your own can help piece things together.”
In my time on the job, I’d helped people figure out everything from their birth parents to deep, dark, ugly family secrets. With how gloomy the man looked, it seemed like he’d be one of the latter.
The harshness of his face softened at my words. “It’s alright. I appreciate the suggestion. What’s your name, kid?”
Kid? Really? He was older than me, but not by much. “It’s Keely.”
A smile crept across his lips. “Keely? Such a beautiful name.” His eyes didn’t leave mine as he extended a hand. “I’m Rick. Thank you so much for your help.”
* * *
“Shoo!” I flicked my wrist at the seagull perched on the chair opposite of mine, the bird releasing a shrieking cry in response before flying off, leaving a line of white goop down the back as a parting gift.
Mother Nature could be so delightful. Not.
It was way too hot to be eating outside, but I needed sunlight before I withered away in the office. Thankfully, it was only a short walk to a row of bayside restaurants from the building, my favorite Italian eatery calling my name the whole way with the scent of oregano heaven.
All around the seagulls cried, a symphony of desperation unfolding as diners refused to share their grub with the winged pests. The birds were a small price to pay for the view though, the bay a gorgeous backdrop for lunch hour.
Working in a basement wasn't for everyone, but for me, it was tolerable. The job paid my tuition, and in return, I gave up sunlight. It wasn’t that bad of a trade. Besides, when it was slow, I could read or catch up on homework.
Another seagull wandered beneath the table as I took a bite of veggie panini. The bird desperately pecked at the concrete for traces of crumbs, the tapping of its beak continuing closer to my feet, toes bared in my heels. Just as it ventured a bit too close for my liking, my phone rang loudly to save the day, Ethan’s ringer sending it scurrying to another table.
I finished chewing before pressing the phone to my ear, not entirely sure he’d be able to hear me with the breeze coming off the water. “Hey, Eth!”
“Quick question.”
“Quick answer.” I was used to his rapid-fire talk, time a precious commodity during his workday. I couldn’t picture the relaxed man I knew working in such high-pressure setting, but somehow he managed to while juggling a ridiculous travel schedule. I hoped it’d rub off on me, because there was no telling what I’d face in the future as a social worker in the field.
“Do you have plans Saturday night?”
“Not sure. What’s up?” I had a few papers to finish, but a night with Tall, Dark, and Sexy was way more appealing. I could always play catchup Sunday morning before heading to my parents’ house for family dinner.
He ignored the question, barking off, “Are you unavailable?"
"Do you need me for something?” I tried to steady my voice, batting away the butterflies with an inner baseball bat. Not today, Satan. He wasn’t asking me on a date no matter what my heart hoped.
"I need a favor."
A wee bit of air leaked out of my happiness balloon - the one I hadn’t realized inflated in my chest. “Sure.”
I’d find a way to walk on water if he needed me to, as pathetic as it was to admit. And the way my heart was hammering against my ribs? Well, that was just as ridiculous.
He was a man, not a God. Sure he smelled like heaven and made my knees weak, but he wasn’t the end all be all. I needed to knock him off the pedestal I’d stuck him on if I ever wanted the stupid crush to go away. He was my friend, and clearly, that’s where it ended for us.
“I’m sorry, nevermind. I just remembered that I already have it taken care of.”
Pop. There went the balloon entirely. “Are you sure? I don’t mind.”
