Maybe he was a pain in the ass, but he wasn’t just a pain in the ass. And maybe, like Martin had said, he could grow out of it.
“Okay. Good.” She grinned at him. “I’m going to see if Dawes wants a snack.”
“Now you’re just doing this on purpose,” Keith said.
“Little bit,” Gretchen admitted cheerfully.
For a second there, she would have sworn Keith almost smiled.
Truth be told, she did like having a flimsy excuse to be extra-nice to Cooper. She didn’t know what to make of that. But as long as she paid attention to what that desire was making her do, and as long as she made sure it stayed on the right side of the stupidity line—unlike that handshake—then she didn’t see the harm in it.
Though maybe that was just because she didn’t want to.
She ducked back into the car for a second, the warm blast from the heater hitting her smack in the face while the rest of her was still outside in the cold.
“Do you want anything from inside? Drink, candy bar?”
He stared at her like she was some kind of beautiful natural phenomenon, like the northern lights or the ocean at sunrise.
It took her breath away. Their eyes seemed to lock together, like two magnets clicking into place.
She knew he had beautiful eyes—a clear, lagoon-like green—but this was ridiculous. How she was feeling was ridiculous.
And right, a little voice in her head said. This is the rightest you’ve felt in a long time.
Gretchen did her best to ignore it. That was what she was supposed to do with her secret voice, wasn’t it? That was the little voice of wishful thinking, and it was just her imagination.
“Just a Milky Way, if you really wouldn’t mind,” Cooper said. It felt like it had been a year since she’d asked him, but some logical part of her brain knew that it had only been seconds. “A Milky Way Midnight, the dark chocolate one, if they have it.”
“I love dark chocolate,” Gretchen said.
Cooper nodded. “The darker the better.”
She seesawed her hand. “Eh, there’s a tipping point. Once you hit somewhere around 85% dark, it falls over the bitterness line into ‘unbearable’ for me.”
“I guess I never paid that kind of attention to it before. I think you’ve been buying better chocolate than I have.”
“I have fancy tastes,” Gretchen said loftily.
Cooper smiled. “How fancy?”
Was he flirting with her? Was she letting him?
Yes and yes, and that worried her.
“You know. Nothing but the best boxed wine and supermarket cheese on Ritz crackers in all the land. To be consumed in my oldest bathrobe in front of the TV.”
His smile had turned wistful. “That sounds nice. I’ve never been a boxed wine guy, but I bet anything’s better than prison pruno: fruit cocktail and a bread heel fermented in some guy’s sock.”
Gretchen shuddered. “Tell me you didn’t drink that.”
“Oblivion’s had its appeal lately, but I decided if I needed it that bad, I’d rather risk trying to knock myself unconscious.”
“Good thinking. And I’ll be carrying that pruno description into my nightmares, thanks.”
She was relaxed with him, she realized, in a way that was unusual for her. It stood out even more since she couldn’t deny the frisson of attraction between them, a fizz that made each one of his smiles hit her like champagne.
She’d never felt that exact combination of comfort and flirtatious sparks. She had dated, but she’d never managed to get to the point where she could have both scorching hot sex and cozy nights of Netflix-watching coupledom with the dogs draped over their laps. She’d never had that elusive feeling of total connection, where she was just happy to spend time in the guy’s presence no matter what they were doing.
Some part of her had always been performing, acting the role of the good girlfriend in the same way she’d acted out Cool Aunt Gretchen and Human Totally Fine With Not Being a Shifter.
And now, when she really needed to perform the one role she’d never had any trouble with at all, the one role she’d always thought was just her—US Marshal—she was completely relaxed instead. Instinctively relaxed.
That was bad. She couldn’t trust how much she trusted him.
“Milky Way Midnight,” she said, forcing a kind of cheerfulness. “Got it. Be right back.”
She knew she’d just dropped their conversation midstream, and she felt bad about that—and worse about how he looked like she’d just turned her back on him.
Compartmentalize it, she told herself sternly. Whatever you’re feeling, you can’t let it drive you crazy.
“Keith, want a snack or anything to drink?”
“Coffee and one of those little packs of chocolate-covered donuts?” Keith said hopefully.
“I can do that.”
She headed into the gas station, listening to the little bell on the door ring as she stepped inside.
The cashier looked exactly like Gretchen’s Nana Miller—round, pleasant face and long gray hair that she wore up in a bun. They even had the same red apple cheeks. “Awfully cold out there,” the woman said to her as a greeting.
“I’m driving southwest,” Gretchen said. “Here’s hoping it’ll get warmer as I go.”
“I’ll cross my fingers for you. But it’s supposed to get nastier and nastier.”
Gretchen selected Keith’s little chocolate donuts and coffee, dispensing a cup for herself as well. She took way more sugar in it than Keith did, though. She took more sugar in her coffee than anyone else she knew, but at least it was a mostly hidden vice.
She casually checked on the car, looking through the plate glass front of the gas station. Keith was still standing outside, leaning against the door, glowering at the world like he wanted it to know he disapproved of it.
She could see Cooper’s silhouette through the backseat window. With the glass
