to do and an even dumber thing to admit to the owner’s best friend. Great. Crazy Woman Loses Job would probably be the headline on the next Thunder Ridge Gazette.
“Okay, let’s go.”
“What? No. You were probably headed somewhere, and I’m fine. Really. I was over-the-top. Sorry.” How many times could you apologize to someone for erratic behavior? “It was a long day. I’m fine now.” She forced a smile. “Not crazy.”
He didn’t bother to answer. Didn’t let go of her arm, either. With his jaw set in capable sheriff mode, he accompanied her back toward Warm Springs Road, Thunder Ridge’s main street.
For future reference, Willa thought, never tell someone you’re not crazy. It makes you sound crazy.
When they passed A Step In Time on their way back to the bakery, Sophie, who was young and pretty and single, ran to the door and smiled when she saw Derek. “Hi! Did you help Willa find her thief?”
“No, no need.” Willa tried to sound philosophical. “He was just a kid. I lost perspective there for a few minutes. It’s over and done now.”
Beneath the street lamps that had switched on and the glow from the exterior light at Sophie’s store, it was easy to see her brows pucker beneath a mop of caramel-brown curls. “I don’t have kids, but if I did, I’d want to make sure they were held responsible for stealing. That boy’s parents should hear about it.” She divided her glance between Derek and Willa. “I hope you guys follow through.”
“We will.” Derek responded firmly. “Good night.”
On they walked until they reached Something Sweet. Standing before the glass door, with the shop aglow inside, Willa hoped she would find the cash register exactly as she’d left it and figured she probably would. Crime was a relatively rare occurrence in Thunder Ridge. Before she opened the door, she said, “Everything looks fine.” What were the odds she could persuade him not to come in? She needed some time alone to collect herself. “Thanks for walking back with me. I appreciate your help. I have some work to do and then I have to close, and I’ve taken enough of your time, so—”
“You’re going to need to give a statement and a description of the suspect.”
“No. I overreacted. Frankly, I’m embarrassed. Can we just forget it?”
Derek frowned. Disapprovingly. “This is about the boy now. I need to talk to his parents.”
“Sure. Of course. It’s pretty clear you aren’t on duty right now, though.” Her gaze traveled over his off duty attire—well-fitting black jeans and a zipped-up gray hoodie—and she wondered if he was meeting someone. A man that handsome, after all... Changing her train of thought, she offered, “So maybe I can swing by the station later tonight and talk to whoever’s on call.”
Derek reached around her for the door. He held it open and waited.
Quickly assessing the outcome of making an even bigger deal about this than she already had, Willa brushed past him. She didn’t bother to walk behind the counter or into the kitchen. He wasn’t going to leave, so she turned to face him in the middle of the bakery. Beneath the hoodie, she spied the top of a black turtleneck sweater that was exactly the shade of the thick waves that fell across his forehead. Yep, he definitely looked like a man with better things to do than solve the puzzle of her lunatic behavior.
“It seems I keep owing you apologies.”
Raising one shoulder in a brief shrug, he said, “Nah. I’m not big on apologies. An explanation about what happened out there would be nice, though.”
God knew she owed him one, but it would entail too many personal revelations, so she shrugged, too, hoping irony would diffuse the situation. “I’m not big on explanations.”
“That’s a problem then,” he said. Hooking his thumbs in his back pockets, he narrowed his gaze. “How do you feel about baos?”
“About what?”
“Baos. They’re Chinese dumplings filled with meat. Sometimes beans.”
“I know what they are.” She’d once taught a class on Asian fusion cuisine.
“Good. How about eating some with me?” he invited. “Have you ever been to The Twin Dragon in Zig Zag? Best baos this side of Shanghai.”
“Have you been to Shanghai?”
“Only in my dreams.”
“Well, maybe someday you’ll really go,” she murmured. She had been to China. It had been a wonderful trip.
“I’ve been waiting for the right time,” Derek said.
Her head rose at that. “You shouldn’t. If you want to travel, you should just do it. Don’t wait.”
He gazed at her curiously, and she realized she’d sounded emphatic. “I’ll take that under advisement,” he said. He gestured toward the street beyond the window. “It’s a big world out there. I’d like to see it with someone. That enhances the view, don’t you think?”
“Yes.” Uncomfortably aware that she hadn’t responded to his dinner invitation, she clasped her hands in front of her. “I’d really rather not pursue finding that boy,” she said, glancing everywhere but at Derek. “I think he was just...impulsive. I don’t think he’s a criminal.”
“He’ll be impulsive again.”
“Still—”
“I’m not going to send him to juvenile hall. I want to talk to him and to his family. See if they’re aware of what he’s up to. Assuming he’s never done something like this before, I’d like to make sure he doesn’t do it again.”
Reasonable. Derek was being very reasonable. She couldn’t argue without explaining her reluctance. “All right. After I close up here, I’ll go over to your office to file a report and then head home.”
The arch of his brow, the flare of awareness in his eyes and the near-imperceptible quirk at the corners of his masculine lips told her he got the message. No baos; just business. And no explanations, either.
“My deputy, Russell, is on duty all night. I’ll text and let him know he should expect you.”
She wanted to assure him that her rejection of his dinner invitation was not personal, but he was already on his way to the door. His broad, relaxed shoulders gave no indication that his feelings were wounded. Pausing with his hand on the door handle, he turned to consider her. “Maybe I should have been a detective. I like puzzles. Here’s one I’m working on—beautiful woman—young, intelligent, capable of running her own business—moves to a small town in Oregon where she didn’t know anybody and doesn’t seem to want to. She takes a job working as a waitress in a deli. What would her motivation be?”
“For taking a job as a waitress? That’s a rather elitist attitude.”
“You have to consider the question in context,” he said pleasantly enough. “The woman is clearly overqualified.”
“Maybe she thought waitressing would turn out to be an upwardly mobile position.”
