Page 53 of Voyeur Café

I expect Allie to explain how she finds me infuriating, but she doesn’t. “I wish I could tell you he’s an impossible jackass, but he’s not.”

“It’s irritating how calm he is, isn’t it?” my sister asks, glaring at me accusingly.

“It’s like he’s totally unrufflable,” Allie agrees.

Leaning back in my chair, I sip my coffee and watch them volley excited conversation back and forth.

“What’s with the windows?” Skye asks. “He said it’s cause it’s an old gas station?”

“He would say that.” Allie rolls her eyes at me. “The real story is sweet and adorable and includes people falling in love.”

That’s my cue to leave. I push back my chair. “I’ve got some work to do, so I’m going to head next door before she starts on this fairytale.”

“It’s a real story,” Allie insists, sitting up straighter in her chair, a slight rosy blush coming to her round, freckled cheeks.

I don’t bother arguing. The story makes her happy, and the last thing I want to do is take away any more of her happiness.

~

Allie: Today’s horoscope says little goats make very good big brothers.

Me: Is that so?

Allie: “Those around you look up to you, even if they don’t realize it. Or you don’t deserve it.” So pretty much?

Me: I’ll take it.

My eyes meet hers through our glass wall. Her cheeks flush, as they often do when I pay attention to her, but she holds my gaze and shines her electric smile at me instead of looking away like she used to.

She and Skye talked for an hour before Skye borrowed my truck to go shopping at the places Allie recommended. It only took my feisty brunette neighbor two minutes to text me after my sister left.

Me: Thank you for keeping Skye company.

Allie: I’m obsessed with her. She’s like a funnier, cooler version of you.

Me: So you’re obsessed with me?

Allie: That’s not at all what I said.

Me: It’s basically what you said.

Allie: You’re impossible. Can you see me glaring at you?

Looking through the window, I see her round cheeks, brighteyes, and plush lips trying to suppress a smile. She may be trying to intimidate me, but I’m only reveling in her focus.

Me: I see you.

Opening my laptop on the workbench, I settle in for a few hours of working on plans for the bar. I’ve been connecting with beer vendors, working on the cocktail menu, looking for staff, and I applied for the liquor license weeks ago. But when it comes to the actual physical design for the space, I get stuck.

Looking up from my laptop, I see Allie’s chestnut ponytail bob in time with her laughter, reminding me why. She belongs over there. Every time I try to imagine changing out countertops, adding in beer taps, or revamping the kitchen, all I can picture is her standing there, disappointed.

She’s wearing a dress again today, mint green with thick straps and a short skirt. I don’t know if it’s the extra heat of late spring in the desert, but she’s been wearing them more often than not. Probably inconvenient for her work, but I’m not complaining.

Me: That dress looks perfect on you by the way.

When she sees my text, she spins in a circle, showing off the dress, its hem ruffling just barely below her ass.

Allie: It’s nothing special.