Free Wise Moves by Mary Burton Page B

opened her door without hesitating and met him on his side of the car. Together they walked toward the front entrance, where he reached the door first and opened it for her. As she entered he pressed his hand into the small of her back. The protective gesture pleased her more than it should have.
    The deli was filled with round blue tables surrounded by scuffed chairs. A large glass case filled with meats, cheeses, pickles and breads dominated the front of the room. Above the counter a chalk-drawn menu hung on the wall. In the corner an old-style jukebox played John Cougar Mellencamp’s “Jack and Diane.”
    Kristen and Cambia each placed their orders and when they reached the register, she dug her money out of her pocket.
    “This is on me,” Cambia said.
    “No,” she said firmly. “I pay my own way.” It was another habit she’d developed since she’d been on the run. She didn’t want to be dependent on anyone, nor did she want to owe anyone anything.
    He pulled out his worn leather wallet. “Kristen, I insist.”
    She straightened out her ten-dollar bill. “As do I.”
    She met the cashier’s gaze and pointed to the Reuben and water. “These are mine.”
    “No, I’m paying for it all,” Dane said to the cashier.
    The teenaged clerk glanced between the two of them as if he wasn’t sure who to obey. Kristen remained firm, but it wasn’t until Cambia gave the clerk the nod to take Kristen’s money that he did.
    Cambia paid for his meal. He followed her to a small table by the large glass front window that looked out onto the square of old town.
    Kristen took her time wiping the table clean with a napkin, removing her food from her tray and arranging her napkin. Dane grinned as he watched her. “You take your meals seriously.”
    She blushed under his gaze. In the old days sit-down, formal meals were common, and she took them for granted; but now she treated a real meal as an event. Simple pleasures. “Yes, I know. I am a bit foolish when it comes to my meals. But I believe we eat with our eyes first and that it’s important to have a proper table setting.”
    He sat down and stared at her, his meal untouched.
    “You don’t belong in a place like this.”
    Kristen shook her head. “Yes. I do.”
    “You’re not a kid off the streets. You were born to money.”
    She unfolded her paper napkin and smoothed it over her lap. “I don’t know what you mean.”
    He leaned forward, lowering his voice a fraction. “Come on. You walk like you are the queen of England, you never have a hair out of place even when you’re working and you just spent five minutes setting the table in a simple deli. Let’s face it, you don’t belong in a place like this.”
    She glanced around the room. The deli was filled with mostly young college kids in worn T-shirts, jeans and flip-flops. The guy behind them, a tall lanky kid with mustard stains on a tie-dyed shirt was already halfway through his sandwich and his chips were gone.
    “You’re wrong.” She didn’t want to talk about herself. She sipped her cup of water and shifted tactics. “I’ve been wondering why you showed up so early today?”
    Expressionless, Dane bit into a chip. “Yeah?”
    She set her cup down. “And I think I know why.”
    He picked up his turkey club. “That so?”
    Feeling awkward, she hesitated. “Are you living in your car?”
    His eyes widened. “What?”
    “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she rushed to say.
    Amusement flickered in his eyes. “Why would you think that?”
    “Because you just showed up this morning. It was almost as if you had been parked outside overnight.”
    He stared at her, saying nothing. Men could be proud, vain creatures and she suspected she’d offended him. “I’m not judging. I’m half on the streets myself. Fact is, I have been on the streets several times these last few months.”
    “Why have you been on the streets?” he said.
    She shook her head. “No, you’ve done that a couple of