by Katie Ruggle
“Hello?” She half expected to hear the voice of one of her recent guests, asking about some forgotten item. A young, unknown male answered, instead.
“Hi. Um…Ms. Little?”
“Yes?” Her tone was cautious. It was unusual for strangers to come to the door—not counting new friends recruited by Chris.
“I’m Tyler Coughlin. I work for Melcher’s?”
“The grocery store?” Her unease faded to puzzlement.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m going to be delivering your groceries from now on.”
“You are?” She knew she sounded like a clueless idiot, but that was basically how she felt.
“Yes, ma’am. So…uh, can I come in?” Strangely enough, the hesitation in the kid’s voice made her relax. He’d probably be shocked to know that he’d made her even more nervous than he was.
“Okay.” Her finger hovered over the unlock button for a long moment before she mentally told herself to stop being paranoid and just let the poor kid inside. He sounded like he couldn’t be over sixteen. If she started being afraid of children, then she might as well give up and become a full-fledged Amish hoarding grandmother. With a resolute poke of her finger, she unlocked the exterior door.
Her hands were sweating as she unfastened the dead bolts. Taking a deep breath, she tried to rearrange her expression to something that didn’t scream “terror” before opening the door.
As Tyler stepped into her entryway, she let out the air she’d been holding. Her initial estimate of his age looked to be right. He was tall, but gangly, and he had an ungainly puppy look, as if he hadn’t completely finished growing into his body yet.
“Hi.” Giving her an uncertain smile, he tossed his too-long bangs out of his eyes. His gaze flickered up and down her body in a clumsily obvious attempt at secretly checking her out, before he blushed and turned his eyes toward the floor.
“Hi.” As she relocked the door, Daisy noted that her hands had quit sweating once she’d confirmed it was, indeed, just a kid. “What’s this about groceries?”
His smile fell away, making room for confusion. “Uh, didn’t you talk to Mr. Lee?”
“Mr. Lee?” The name sounded vaguely familiar.
“The owner of Melcher’s?”
Daisy had to smile at the way their conversation seemed to be made up of questions, and she waved toward the kitchen doorway. “Want to come in?”
With a nod, he followed her. Automatically, she headed for the coffeemaker, but then she paused. Was sixteenish too young for coffee? The teenagers on TV seemed to drink an awful lot of it, but Daisy didn’t want to stunt the kid’s growth or anything.
“Are you old enough for coffee?” she asked, almost laughing at his startled expression.
His shoulders pulled back as he answered, “Sure. I drink it all the time.” His too-casual tone gave away the lie, but Daisy just shrugged. A cup of coffee wasn’t going to kill him, and he was plenty tall already, so the threat of growth-stunting was minimal.
“Go ahead and pick one.” She gestured toward the round-robin display of different coffee flavors, all packaged in single-serving cups, sitting next to the brewer.
After a glance at her, as if checking to make sure she’d been serious about the offer, Tyler hurried toward the coffee. He examined the options with a gravity that made Daisy swallow a smile. It had been a long time since she’d been around any kids his age, and it was different because she’d been a teenager back then, too.
When he finally decided on mocha and held it up as if asking for her approval, Daisy nodded and held out her hand. Placing his chosen cup in her palm, he stepped back so she could reach the brewer.
As she popped it into the coffeemaker and got a mug out of the cupboard, she prompted, “Groceries?”
“Um…I’m not sure what’s going on. Mr. Lee just told me I’d be bringing them to you every week. They don’t do deliveries usually—or, like, ever, at least not in the month I’ve been working there—so I wasn’t sure if you were going to text me with your list or what. That’s why I stopped by here.”
Daisy only had to think about it for a few seconds before the Chris-shaped lightbulb turned on. “Excuse me,” she said to Tyler as she pulled her phone out of her hoodie pocket, found Chris’s name in her contacts—her two pages of contacts—and tapped the screen.
“What’s up, Dais?” He’d answered after only a single ring.
“Um…the grocery deliverer is here.”
“Really? That’s great! I didn’t think Mr. Lee was going to do it.”
Daisy opened her mouth, but then glanced at Tyler and closed it again, remembering that anything she said would be all over Simpson High School within a few hours. Scratch that—it would be all over Field County, if teenaged Simpsonites were as gossipy as their fully grown relatives.
“Dais? You there?”
“Yes.” She was still trying to figure out how to argue with him without giving Tyler a show. It seemed rude to go to another room and leave him alone in a stranger’s house, especially when she was the one who’d made the call.
“What’s wrong?”
Daisy gave up trying to figure out how to yell at Chris in code. “I’ll talk to you about it when you’re here later.”
“Are you mad?”
Since she was feeling more irritation than anger, but she couldn’t explain without also saying it to Tyler—who wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was avidly listening to every word of her side of the conversation—she just said, “Later, Chris.”
“You shouldn’t have to wait for fresh food, Dais. If you want to make brownies, you should be able to fucking make them without having to wait for Gabe to wander into town.”
Daisy blinked in surprise. Chris hardly ever swore—at least, not in front of her.
“You can be mad at me if you want, Dais, but fresh vegetables and milk shouldn’t be a special treat, for God’s sake. I’m just—”
“Chris,” Daisy interrupted, since he was getting louder and louder, and soon both she and Tyler would be able to hear everything Chris was saying. “I’ll talk to you when you get here.”
Ending the call, she forced a smile. “Your coffee’s ready.”
He gave the mug a wary look before picking it up, making Daisy fairly sure he didn’t actually drink coffee. The way he winced at the first bitter sip confirmed it. Hiding her amusement, she pulled out the sugar bowl, a spoon, and some milk, placing everything on the counter next to Tyler.
“Would it be easiest if I just texted you my grocery list?” she asked as he poured enough milk in his coffee to turn it tan.
“Sure.” He paused between adding his fifth and sixth spoonful of sugar to his mug in order to tug his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and extend it toward her. As he finished adding sugar and then stirred the milky syrup that used to be coffee, she added her name and number to his phone and then called it so she’d have his number. Although she wasn’t trying to pry, Daisy couldn’t help but notice that his contact list was even shorter than hers.
Sympathy made her smile at him a little too warmly as she returned his phone. When his surprise turned into a mix of interest and hope, she realized her mistake. It wouldn’t be good to make her new grocery-delivery boy think she was hitting on him.
“What grade are you in?” she asked, trying to think of questions she could ask that would emphasize the enormous, unsurmountable eight years or so that stretched between them without hurting the kid’s feelings.
“I’ll be a junior this fall.” His attempt at rounding up made her feel another surge of compassion for the boy. Despite that, she tried to keep her expression muted as she nodded.
“Do you have your license yet?” A quick glance at his mug showed that he’d barely made a dent in his coffee. Daisy held back a sigh. She was almost out of age-appropriate questions, and then there
would be awkward silence. She just knew it.
“Not yet.” His mouth twisted. “I have my permit, but I still need to get more practice hours in, and my dad works a lot.”
The mention of his father made her realize something. “Oh! You said your last name is Coughlin. Your dad is the sheriff, then?” Now that she’d made the connection, Daisy could see the resemblance.
“Yes,” Tyler said, almost reluctantly.
She wondered why he didn’t want to admit who his father was, but then she figured that it was a typical teen reaction to be embarrassed by his parents. Also, Sheriff Coughlin probably cast a pretty long shadow, making it easy for Tyler to disappear in it, especially in such a small town. Instead of commenting, she just nodded. After all, what was she supposed to say? Your dad thinks I’m crazy would probably not be appropriate.
Her silence apparently made Tyler nervous, though, since he rushed to speak. “What do you… I mean, do you need anything right away? Groceries, that is.”
“No, thanks. I’m actually fully stocked right now.” Despite her irritation with Chris for his high-handedness, Daisy felt a trill of excitement at the thought of having weekly groceries. Although she told herself to be grateful she wasn’t going hungry, she always hated when she only had the canned and frozen options but was craving fresh food. Plus, with weekly deliveries, her chocolate stash would never be depleted. The thought killed any lingering annoyance with Chris. “How about next week? What’s a good day?”
“Friday? I almost always work on Fridays. I don’t have school, so I could get them to you earlier.”
“I’ll text you Friday, then.”
“Okay.” Shifting his weight, he looked at his mug and then toward the sink, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with his coffee.
“Here,” she said and held out a hand. “I’ll take that. You probably need to get back to work.”
With an affirmative shrug, he handed her the coffee. “See you next week.”
“Bye, Tyler.”
He was still hesitating, so she moved toward the door and unfastened the dead bolts and chains. “Wait to go through the outer door until I have this one relocked, okay?”
“Okay. Bye, Ms. Little.”
“You can call me Daisy,” she said, and he flushed and dropped his gaze.
“Thanks…Daisy.” His voice was just a mumble as he slipped through the doorway.
She quickly refastened the locks. Even though she’d asked him to wait, she wasn’t sure if she trusted him to remember. Once the last chain was in place, she thumped the door, and she heard the exterior door open.
“Good kid,” she said under her breath and then snorted a laugh. She needed to hang out with teenagers more often. Tyler’s awkwardness made her feel pretty proud of her social skills, despite having been locked away from almost everyone for eight years.
She turned away from the door. A pounding stopped her before she could go two steps. It was Chris’s knock, and she frowned as she pushed the speaker button and the unlock button at the same time.
“You’re early,” she said.
“You’re mad,” was his response.
Rolling her eyes, she waited until the exterior door locked behind him and then undid the locks for what felt like the hundredth time that day.
Pulling open the door, she stepped back so Chris could step inside. “I’m not mad.”
She might not be, but from the way a scowl rumpled his forehead, it looked like he was.
“It was the logical thing to do,” he said.
“I know.” She headed toward the study. Since she was pretty sure work was over for the day, she wanted to put a layer of cardboard between her and the one doll’s teeth.
“If you know,” Chris said, following her, “then why are you mad?”
“I’m not,” she said over her shoulder. “Honestly. I’m irritated that you didn’t talk to me about it first, but it’s a good idea.”
“Oh.” That seemed to have knocked all the indignation out of him. “Why’d you hang up on me then?”
“Because Tyler was listening to everything I said, and I didn’t want our business being discussed by a bunch of high schoolers.” She carefully returned the first doll to its box.
“Tyler? Rob’s kid?”
“Yes.” Picking up the second doll, she held it closer to Chris. “Look. This one has teeth. Doesn’t that make it just exponentially creepier?”
“Yes. Get that thing away from me.” Despite his words, he looked more relaxed than when he’d arrived. “So you’re not mad.”
“I’m not mad,” she agreed, “although I might start getting annoyed if you keep asking me that.”
“I’ll quit then.” His mouth relaxed into a little smile. “What was Tyler doing here?”
“He’s going to be my grocery-delivery boy.” Folding down the box flaps, she frowned. “If he doesn’t have his license, how’s he going to deliver my groceries?”
Chris shrugged. “Bike maybe, or on a sled after it snows. You don’t get much, so he could even carry them. It’s less than a mile to the grocery store. I didn’t know he was working at Melcher’s.”
“Tyler said it’s only been for a month.” She shut down her laptop. “I feel bad for the kid. He seems lonely. Even I have more contacts in my cell than he does.”
While he waited for her to finish, Chris leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “Why were you looking at his phone?”
“Putting my number in there,” she said, just to watch his eyebrows shoot toward his hairline. She wasn’t disappointed. “So I can text him my grocery list.”
He grunted. “Why does he need your number for that?”
“So he knows who’s texting him? Why are you being so weird about it?”
“I’m not being weird.”
“Right.” With a shrug, she dropped the subject and headed toward the living room. “You hungry? We could do the early-bird-special dinner, or we could watch a movie first and then break out the pizza.”
“I can wait.”
“Okay.” Turning to face him, Daisy walked backward and grinned. “You just can’t wait to watch Brutal Fists, can you?”
As soon as she reversed direction, Chris’s gaze shot up to meet hers. “Uh…right.”
A little confused by the guilt in his expression, she continued to walk backward, frowning at him. “What’d you do?”
His answer came too fast. “Nothing.”
“Your lying skills could use some work. Don’t they teach you that in cop school?”
“No. Watch where you’re going, or you’re going to run into something.”
Cocking her head to the side, she stopped so she could study him. The obvious answer was too ludicrous to consider, but it popped out of her mouth anyway. “Were you looking at my butt?”
“No.” That time, the quick denial was paired with a dark red flush across his cheekbones.
“Liar.” She turned away from him to hide her pleased smile. “Do you want something to drink? Besides coffee, I have…well, water. Or milk.”
“I need to actually sleep tonight, so I’ll have some water.” He sounded like he’d regained his equilibrium. “I’ll get it though. Want some?”
“Sure. Thanks.” As she set up the DVD, she couldn’t stop grinning. Deputy Chris Jennings had been checking out her butt. Once she had everything ready to go for the movie, she pulled off her hoodie. Although she told herself it was only because she’d get too warm otherwise, Daisy knew she was lying to herself as she smoothed the soft material of her newly revealed fitted shirt. When Chris returned bearing two water glasses, she quickly dropped her hand and took a seat on the couch.
“Guess what?”
“What?” he responded absently, placing the water on the coffee table in front of them.
“I have a new
therapist.”
His head jerked up, and he stared at her for a moment before a grin stretched across his face. “Hey, that’s great, Dais!”
“Yeah.” Her face was flushed with excitement and embarrassment. “We had our first session over the phone this afternoon, and we’re going to do a video conference on Monday. Dr. Fagin is in Denver, so he’s going to come here eventually, but I told him I’d feel more comfortable doing the phone and video thing first.”
“He?” Chris seemed to lose a little of his enthusiasm.
“Yes.” Making a face, Daisy explained, “I figured that might keep Dad from sleeping with this one.” Chris laughed. “And this guy was really highly recommended.”
“Do you like him?” he asked, sitting on the other side of the couch and angling his body so he could look at her.
“I do.” Daisy tucked her bare feet underneath her. “We didn’t talk about anything too intense today, since it was kind of a get-to-know-you session, but he seemed really relaxed and laid-back. He didn’t have that condescending psychiatrist thing going, either.”
“That’s great.” His grin was open, without even a hint of the weirdness that had been popping up lately. “I’m proud of you, Dais.”
“Thanks.” She bounced a little. “Ready for Fists?”
With a mock-groan, Chris turned toward the flat-screen mounted on the wall. “Am I ready for horrible fighting technique and cheesy dialog? Sure. Hit me. I mean it. Hit me hard enough that I pass out and miss this movie.”
With an amused snort, Daisy ignored his moaning and started the DVD. “Whatever. I know you’re dying to see it.”
Although he gave a huff of denial, she noticed that Chris’s eyes were already fixed on the screen. Grinning, she settled back to watch the movie.
* * *
“I’m feeling a violent need to punch her.” Daisy jammed a spoonful of brownie sundae into her mouth. “Why is she just standing there while her boyfriend is pummeled?”
Chris smirked at her. “Pummeled?”
“Yes, pummeled. Thrashed, beaten, ganged-up on, smacked-down, trampled.” With a groan, she closed her eyes. “And now she’s screaming. Great. That’s really helpful.”
