Yes, poor Chuck.
“Let’s go get a car before they close.” I walk toward the building, but Karli doesn’t follow.
“About that.” She chews on her bottom lip, and I’m reminded of that brief taste I got of it earlier. I’m eager to get another. “I don’t really have the money for a ren—”
I hold a hand up to stop her. “I’m paying for it.”
“But I can’t let—”
“You can,” I say. But behind those words, I’m saying so much more. You can let me help. You can let me in. I won’t hurt you or take advantage of you. But I don’t say any of that out loud. Because saying so won’t make her believe it. I have to prove that.
“I’m paying for it,” I say, lacing my hand through hers, and pulling open the doors. “I’m the one who begged you to take me home and forced you to leave in the middle of the night. I feel partially responsible for killing Bertha.”
“First of all, you didn’t force me, and second…” She tugs me to a stop. “I’d like to see you beg. I bet it would be very enjoyable.”
Warmth climbs up my cheeks. I want to beg her right now for another kiss. But I won’t. At least not right here.
“Well, stick around then,” I say, the rough timbre of my voice giving away the exact thoughts in my head.
She bites her bottom lip and my gaze gets stuck there. But she pushes me forward.
There’s a significant line for this late at night, and I find the end of it while Karli talks to everyone around us. This woman has no boundaries. And I can’t help but be impressed by it. Sean is the most outgoing person I know, but Karli could put him to shame in that department. I think she’s already made a new bestie with the old lady in front of us, who is currently sharing her “world-famous chocolate chip cookie recipe.”
“Do I get any of these cookies?” I ask when the lady is called up next.
“No. Neither do I. It appears she air-dropped her shopping list instead.” Karli’s nose screws up as she reads the list. “Duct tape, bleach, an urn?”
I chuckle. “You may have befriended a murderer.”
Karli’s face pales as she watches her new friend. The woman turns, casting us a grin the size of a clown’s, and Karli startles.
The old woman hobbles over and wraps Karli in a hug—one she doesn’t return. “I got the last van. And it’s four-wheel-drive,” the woman squeals before releasing Karli and waving goodbye.
NowI’ma tad worried.
“You alright?” I ask, trying and failing to hide my amusement.
Karli blinks and then shakes her head. “Yeah, I’m going to find a restroom.”
The guy at the front desk motions me forward, and Karli disappears. She doesn’t return.
I’m about to worry when I catch sight of her out the front windows talking to another stranger. Didn’t she learn her lesson from the last one?
This woman is carrying a bedroll and a single duffel bag. Her clothes are dirty, and she looks worse for the wear, but the smile on her face is broad as Karli chats with her. It’s clear now why Karli talks to strangers. Despite the fact that she was once homeless. It’s like she can sense the people that need a friend, need a family because she needs it too. And though she may only be passing through their life, she gives them what she can while she can.
“Sign here,” the man says.
I flip around and scan through the documents, noting the date when I’ll have to return the car once we’re in Phoenix.
“You sure you want this one?” he asks. “I have at least two more cars left.”
“We definitely want this one.”
He shakes his head. “Okay. But I’m not sure it’s been driven in a couple of years. So take care of her.” He slides the keys across the desk, and I scoop them up.
“Thank you!”
“Best of luck.”
