Love On Call

“Excellent deductive reasoning.” Mari laughed. “I’m on Elm. No car, but it’s a nice walk.”

“Wait until it snows.”

“Huh. I’ve never lived where it snows.”

“Hoo-boy.” Glenn grinned. “I didn’t notice you taking a lunch break. Dinner either, now that I think of it.”

“I didn’t even notice I was hungry.” Mari laughed. “I’m starting to now, though.”

Glenn knew for a fact Mari hadn’t taken a break of any kind all day. Maybe that was why she looked like a twenty-minute walk would wipe her out. Glenn hadn’t been planning to leave, wasn’t in any hurry to get home with nothing much to do, but she sensed Mari was working hard to cover up her fatigue. Surprising herself, Glenn said, “Me too. How about I walk down with you, and we get something to eat?”

Mari raised a brow. “Are you by any chance offering to cook, because a, I don’t think I have anything except cereal; b, I don’t really have a full kitchen; and c, I’m too famished to wait for very long.”

“That’s a thought that never passes my mind.” Glenn held the locker room door open as Mari passed by. She smelled like the vanilla soap stocked in the shower room. Nice and clean. Her hair looked as soft as black velvet. “I’m afraid my main food group is pizza.”

“That’s an easy one, then,” Mari said as they walked out into a hot, heavy July night. The air was nearly tangible, thick with the promise of rain. Odd, the air for all its weight was nothing like the blanket of toxic smog that sometimes hung over LA. “Where is the best?”

“Bottoms Up, the bar at your end of town, makes a good one, if you want a cold beer to go with it. I’m pretty partial to Clark’s, but that might be because it’s ten steps from my door.”

Mari laughed. “I’ll take the closest.”

“My place for dinner, then,” Glenn said.

“All right, yes.” Mari drew a deep breath and some of her weariness dropped away. Glenn’s shoulder touched hers every few steps as they made their way down the winding road, and that was nice too. They didn’t speak and she didn’t mind. Glenn seemed content just to walk, and she was happy for the company, even though it was unexpected. She hadn’t shared a meal with anyone in months, outside family, and then rarely. She hadn’t been to a movie or out to dinner or even had a decent conversation with another soul. She wasn’t looking for that connection now either. She’d learned not to lean on anyone once she’d gotten to a place where she didn’t have to. She would never owe anyone anything again, never put herself in a position to be unable to fight back, out of obligation or guilt, but still, Glenn’s rock-sure presence in the gathering dark was welcome, even in the silence.

*

“This is without question the best pizza I’ve ever tasted.” Mari slid a third piece of loaded veggie onto her plastic-coated paper plate.

Glenn smiled, enjoying Mari’s pleasure and the unself-conscious way she attacked her food. “I’m not gonna argue that.”

“I have a terrible feeling this might become my favorite dinner spot.”

“Why terrible?”

Mari laughed. “I might need more exercise than walking a mile up the hill to work every day if I do this every night.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” Glenn said. “You’ll do plenty of running in the ER, and besides…I can’t see as you have anything to worry about, a few pounds more or not.”

Mari felt herself blushing. The compliment was probably not even intentional, just the kind of thing everyone said under those circumstances, but she liked the idea that Glenn had noticed. And wasn’t that odd. She hadn’t even thought about anything remotely intimate in so long she’d forgotten that was even a possibility. “Thanks.”

Glenn tilted her head, a small line forming between her brows. “You’re welcome, for whatever.”

As she’d thought, Glenn hadn’t meant anything personal by the comment. Mari hid her momentary consternation by glancing around the small storefront pizza parlor. The ovens were in the rear, with half a dozen tables and two standing counters dividing the room, and big plate-glass windows on either side of the door. She was surprised to see the place was packed on a Wednesday night. She and Glenn had snagged one of the few remaining tables when they’d arrived, and now they were all full, mostly with teenagers, but here and there a family or lone adult occupied a spot. The front door opened and another gaggle of teens came in, rushing to the counter and talking all at once. A boy and girl came in a second later and drew up to the rear of the crowd.