Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 93096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“I don’t mind salami.”
“Good. And I’m Tucker.” He led Luis to a table filled with chatting girls, pulling out a battered blue lunch bag with a seam that had been repaired, possibly more than once. That smile came out again, soft and shy as he pointed at Luis’s lunch box. “You like that movie?”
“Yup.”
“Me too.”
And there he’d sat the rest of that year and the one after that too, eating Tucker’s sandwiches for him, introducing him to Mami’s preferred brands of snack cakes and chips, and listening to Tucker’s opinions on popular movie franchises and video games and the wisdom of listening to older brothers. Now here he was, years later, the new guy all over again. But nowhere near as desperate to fit in and not nearly as susceptible to puppy-dog looks from freckle-faced boys.
And no more time for wallowing in memories, either. He ate his lunch at his desk, a prepackaged protein box. It wasn’t that he was antisocial, but he was still figuring out the lay of the land here, the particular office politics that every place had. That and he hadn’t particularly wanted to run into Tucker in the break room. Which might make him a coward, but so be it.
“Hey. Adams wanted me to bring you this.” Tucker stuck his head into Luis’s office. Apparently thinking about him was enough to conjure him up. “Oops. Sorry to interrupt your lunch.”
“It’s no bother,” Luis lied.
“Is that all you have?” Tucker set a thick folder on the corner of Luis’s desk. “That reminds me of the little snack boxes the boys loved when they were small. If you’re still hungry—”
“I’m not.” Luis hated how curt he sounded, so he forced himself to try for a lighter tone. Tucker was trying. So could he. “And it’s aged cheese, an egg, some nuts, and chorizo. Not exactly kid food.”
“You always did like spicy meat...” Tucker trailed off and rubbed his jaw, apparently realizing a little too late how that sounded. “Sorry. Never mind. But I’ve got extra snacks in my office if you get hungry. Accidentally grabbed some of Wade’s chili chips a couple of days ago.”
“I’m too old to be eating food you don’t like.” Despite himself, Luis smiled as decades sped past. Somehow he knew without asking that Tucker was thinking about that first meeting too and all the many lunches that followed. “But congrats on having a kid with bolder taste buds than you.”
“I think it’s payback from the universe. He even likes those cinnamon candies you were always addicted to, the ones that burn my tongue. And he adds hot sauce to everything. Walker and I had to ban him from cooking, which was possibly his objective.” Tucker gave a crooked grin, one that invited Luis to smile back, and damn if some rogue muscle in his chest didn’t flutter. He had no business being flattered that Tucker remembered his candy preferences. And Tucker’s smile had always been appealing, but now, coupled with rugged adult looks, it was nothing short of devastating, and Luis had to look away. The worst thing wasn’t having to work with Tucker. No, the absolute worst thing would be getting any sort of attraction to the person he was now.
He had to be smart here. And that meant letting Tucker explain the file he’d brought with a minimum of sneaking more glances at him. The papers included photographs and evidence from some older area fires that weren’t yet digitally archived, along with instructions for how to reach the records on the office server of the more recent fires that were still under investigation.
“Tomorrow I’m supposed to take you out to the field—show you the site for the next controlled burn as well as one of the suspected arson spot fires.”
“Sounds good.” And it did—not the spending hours together, but getting out of the office was always his favorite part of the job, and he always felt like he did his best work hands-on rather than merely crunching data in front of a screen. Which was what loomed after Tucker retreated to his own office, slow-moving hours of reviewing records and getting up to speed on various projects, becoming more familiar with their procedures and ways of doing things.
At least he had his favorite music playing in his headphones, an indie band he’d been lucky enough to see live a few months back, and he didn’t need to see Tucker again until they were packing up at the end of the day, encountering him in the hallway with a leather messenger bag on one shoulder, another reminder of how far he’d come from the kid who’d been inseparable from his hand-me-down backpack with graphics from their favorite movie franchise.
“Heading out?” Tucker’s gaze swept over Luis, a cursory examination, but still one that made Luis both want to stand taller and to glance away.