While You're Awake (2 page)

Keegan swirled some
whipped cream over the mochaccino, sprinkled a few mini chocolate chips over
top, and took a moment to smile down at the full cup, satisfied with his
handiwork. Lifting his head, he called, “Ava?”

A few moments passed. No
one stood up. No one peered at him in question.

“Ava?” he tried again, a
little louder.

Still no response.

“Hey, Mary, do you know which
one Ava is?” he asked his coworker at the register, tilting his head to the
crowded room.

Mary finished writing
something on a receipt and then scoured the room. “There.” She pointed to a
table in the back by the windows. A girl with red hair pulled into a ponytail
sat there, her eyes glued to the screen in front of her and her fingers
appearing to tap across the keyboard.

“Thanks.” With a nod to
Mary, he scooped the mug into his hands and carried it across the room. When he
felt he was within earshot, he called her name. “Ava?”

The girl jerked upright.
Bloodshot blue eyes met his, widened slightly in seeming panic. This Ava needed
coffee pronto. He offered her a sympathetic grin as he set the mug next to her
laptop. “Here’s your mochaccino.”

Her returning smile was
weak, but kind. “Thanks.”

Wanting to put a little
blush in her pale cheeks, he winked. “Sure thing.”

Her gaze dropped before
he could be rewarded for his efforts. With a one-shoulder shrug, he pivoted and
took a few steps back to the front.

A shriek and crash nearly
sent him sprawling over some woman’s book bag. He caught himself and turned to
find Tired Girl on the floor next to her upended chair. Her head was tipped up
toward the ceiling, and he followed her line of sight until he spotted a bee
circling her table.

His heart rate slowed.
Just a honey bee. No guns.

Bees, he could handle.

Returning to the girl’s
table, he leaned over to open the window and shooed the bee out with his hand,
grateful it remained within reach. It didn’t take much persuasion for the
creature to embrace its freedom.

A smattering of amused
applause followed the click of the window locking into place. Keegan
immediately turned to Tired Girl.

Ah, there was the blush
he’d been expecting.

The startled customers
returned to their coffee and conversation while he knelt down next to Ava and
offered her his hand. “You okay?”

She winced, and his brows
dipped in response. Was she in pain, or just embarrassed? “I’m all right.” But
her haunted eyes told a different story.

After a moment, she
gripped his hand and they stood together. He scooted around her to set the
chair to rights but looked back in time to catch her rubbing the back of her
head.

“Do you need some ice?”

She shook her head, her
eyes closed tight.

Convincing.

Keegan put a hand on
Tired Girl’s shoulder and nudged her into the righted chair. “I’ll be back with
ice and some Advil.”

Her eyes stayed closed as
he hurried off. When he returned, her elbows were settled on the table space in
front of her laptop and her head rested in her palms.

“Ti—Ava.” Close one. He
really ought to stop nicknaming people in his head.

She peeled her hands away
from her face and looked up at him. Red marks from her hands appeared on her
forehead and cheeks—but it was the way she squinted at him that gave him pause.
He offered the ice to her. Was it her exhaustion or some sort of head injury
that caused her to take her time in grabbing the cold Ziploc bag full of ice?

He made a humming sound
low in his throat. This girl needed rest, potential concussion or otherwise. He
pocketed the Advil he held in his other hand, not sure she ought to have
painkillers just yet.

Before he could say or
suggest anything, she gave him a half smile. “I’m really sorry about the fuss I
made. I just—bees aren’t really my favorite.” The half-hearted smile vanished.
“Thank you for coming to my rescue. And for the ice.” She held up the bag in a
sort of salute, then placed it over a spot on the back of her head and turned
to her laptop.

Nope. She wasn’t going to
get away with that measly brush-off.

After a quick glance
behind him to make sure Mary and Fay weren’t swamped at the counter, he grabbed
Ava’s laptop bag out of the chair across from her, set it on the floor, and sat
down.

Her gaze shot to his over
the open lid of her laptop. Wisps of hair framed her scrunched eyebrows and the
almost elegant arch of her nose.

Keegan scooted his chair
in closer and leaned his elbows on the wrought iron table. Resting his chin on
his clasped hands, he said in the gentle voice he usually reserved for friends
of his grandmother, “I think it might be best if you got your head checked.”

Hmm. That didn’t come out
quite the way he’d wanted it to.

Tired Girl didn’t get
mad, though. Surprisingly. Wasn’t it supposed to be a proven fact that girls
with red hair were quick to get angry? Maybe it was because her hair bordered
on the color of sweet potatoes baked with honey.

Instead, she dismissed
him with a limp wave of her hand. “I’m fine. I just have to…get to work.” Lines
appeared in her forehead as she glanced down at the fingers of her right hand,
now hovering over the keyboard.

He waited a few seconds,
but no clicking sounds commenced. That told him all he needed to know. He
tilted his chin to one hand. “Go ahead. Don’t let me keep you.”

The conversations flowed
all around them, and he had almost tuned in to one between a couple behind him
before Tired Girl raised a hand to her cheek and scratched absently. “Well…”

He continued watching
her, unmoving and practically unblinking. Too much staring-contest practice
with his little brother had prepared him for this sort of thing.

“I just”—she took a
painfully slow sip of her mochaccino—“can’t really concentrate with you looking
at me like that.”

Keegan sighed and let his
hands collapse into a clasped position on the hard tabletop. “I’m sorry. You’ve
just got me worried. That crash was pretty spectacular.”

She glanced at the floor
behind her, as if the debris from an explosion would give evidence to his
claim. A smile rose to his mouth as she turned her attention back to him, a
pink tinge to her pale cheeks. “It wasn’t so bad,” she muttered, shaking her
head. The motion produced another wince as she automatically tightened her grip
on the bag of ice.

She caught him watching
her and—too late—masked her pain with raised brows and a puzzled frown.

“Nice try.” The words
slipped from Keegan’s mouth as if the two of them were best friends or
something. Well, if that’s what it took to convince TG to abandon whatever she
was working on and take care of herself, he’d become her new BFF.

He leaned forward, and
she continued regarding him with wide, dazed eyes. Praying that she hadn’t had
a chance to get far in her work without saving it, he gently pushed the lid of
her laptop, holding her gaze as he did so. She didn’t snap out of it until the
lid clicked shut.

“What…?” The slender
fingers of her unoccupied hand reached out and rested on the lid, and she gave
a pitiful tug to lift it. His hand remained settled firmly on top of the
device.

Something sparked in her
expression. “What do you think you’re doing? I’ve got things to do.” She tugged
again, and then the ember died. “Please,” she whispered,” I have deadlines.”

“And they’ll still be
there after you’ve gotten some rest.” While he wasn’t heartless, he felt convinced
of his choice when she sat back and didn’t protest further—even as he got to
his feet, lifted her bag, and slid the laptop into it.

“Come on.” He slung the
bag over his shoulder and put his hand under her elbow, supporting her into a
standing position, huffing out a breath when she set the bag of ice on the
table.

Her purse also lay
abandoned by her chair, so Keegan scooped it up and added it to his shoulder
before turning to lead Ava through the sandaled feet and haphazard chairs. In a
particularly crowded spot, he felt her grip the back of his shirt, the soft
material bunching in a knot and pulling across his shoulders. He smiled.

Her fingers fell away
when they reached the counter, but he could sense her hovering directly behind
him. It only took a moment for him to catch Mary’s attention. Her startled look
jumped between the bags he carried and the red-haired girl he assumed was
visible beyond his own dark blond head.

Keegan shrugged with his
free shoulder. “I’ve gottta take care of something. You and Fay got it covered?
I’ll be back in a bit and help close later, ’K?”

Someone cleared their
throat over by the register. Mary offered the customer a placating smile and
threw an “all right” behind her as she walked over to take the person’s order.

Keegan headed toward the
door and held it open, expecting Ava to pass through. But she remained rooted
by the counter.

Stubborn. Not surprising.
He offered her his most winning smile and tilted his head toward the sunny sky
and crowded parking lot.

With a determined scrunch
of her strawberry eyebrows, she slowly made her way toward him. Instead of
heading outside, though, she attempted to pull her purse over his arm. “You’re
working,” she said as he tightened his muscles and stepped back. She hung on,
clearly frustrated. “I’ve got it.” Another tug. “You’re right. I should try to
get some sleep. But I can take it from here.”

When she persisted in her
efforts to take her stuff from him, he swung back a bit, securing her bags
between him and the wall. “Hey.” He waited until her confused gaze met his before
he continued, “I don’t mind. Let me help. I wanna help, okay?”

She stared at him a
moment longer, then made the mistake of shaking her head. She winced and
obviously decided there was no use fighting him on this. Finally.

Still holding her stuff
and the edge of the door, he moved forward, crowding her space until he had
successfully shepherded her outside. They stood side by side on the sidewalk.
The pale blue of the sky painted a soft background that highlighted the sharp
green of the tall trees planted near the street. Ava squinted against the
light.

“Which one’s yours?”
Keegan prompted.

She stepped off the
sidewalk and stumbled.

He rushed forward, but
she got her feet under her just as he grabbed her arm. With the tiniest of
nods—she’d apparently learned her lesson there—she continued on, a little white
Honda Civic her apparent goal. She said nothing as he slid his hand down her
arm and latched onto her open palm, keeping her walking straight and steady
until they reached the driver’s side.

He handed over the purse
after reluctantly letting her hand go. She rummaged around in the cluttered bag
and emerged with a set of car keys. He let her unlock the door, then opened the
side door and placed her laptop bag on the back seat. Then he held out his hand
again.

“Keys?”

A vulnerable shadow
crossed her face. “Why?”

“I’m driving you home.”

She shook her head
vehemently—never mind; she’d learned nothing—the motion causing her to stagger
back against the driver’s door. “Truly,” she gritted out, her ponytail
quivering in the light wind, “I’ve got it from here.” When he made no move to
leave, she sighed. “I appreciate your help, but I’ll be fine.”

Mm-hm. Yeah.

Her gaze darted around
the parking lot. Great, he’d managed to make her think he was some sort of
creeper trying to kidnap her or get her alone somewhere. His turn to wince.

He closed the side door
and stuffed his hands into his apron pockets, trying to look non-threatening.
“If you won’t let me drive you home, is there someone I can call? I just don’t
think it’s safe for you to drive right now.”

It surprised him to see
her face fall, her lowered lids blocking what he had briefly glimpsed of her
pained expression. All was silent for several heartbeats except for the breeze teasingly
ruffling some leaves and a few cars rolling by on the street. He shifted on his
feet and decided to lay out their options. “If you’d rather I drive my car, you
can catch a ride with me, and I’ll pick you up later so you can come get your
car. Or I can bring you home in your car and get a friend to bring me back.”

“I can’t let you get
stuck at my place.” Her chin firmed, her blue eyes relentless. Like a parched,
ever-burning desert sky.

“Then we’ll take my car.”

“You don’t even know
where I live.”

“That’s why you’ll give
me directions.”

He waited, but she didn’t
come up with any more excuses. She locked the car and stuffed the keys into the
bottomless pit of her beige purse.

Standing taller,
conscience lighter, he led the way to his truck, parked several spaces down
from her little car. He joined her on the passenger’s side and, hands on her
waist, gave her a boost, pausing outside her door to make sure she got her seat
belt on and didn’t somehow fall out in the process. A whiff of last night’s pizza
run lingered in the cab and made his stomach grumble in annoyance from his
pitiful attempt at breakfast this morning.

After rounding the truck,
he hopped into the driver’s seat. A quick peek showed Tired Girl with stooped
shoulders, clutching her purse in her lap like she was afraid he’d steal it.
“Where to?” he asked.

“Just a bit outside of
town. To the north.”

For the remainder of the
drive, she pointed out a few turns when necessary, but otherwise remained
silent. When her last direction came out slurred, he glanced over sharply. Her
head listed to the side, the crown of her red hair brushing the glass of the
window.

He imagined how
uncomfortable Ava must be and pressed a little harder on the gas pedal. Soon he
spotted the house she had described. He pulled into the gravel drive and jumped
out as soon as he had turned off the ignition. This part would be tricky.
Bracing himself, he opened the passenger’s door inch by inch.