"Is she going to work here every weekday?" Nora asks, nodding her head toward Juniper as she pours steamed milk into a cup of espresso.

I shift my gaze to Juniper, who is setting up her laptop at the same table she's occupied for the past few days.

"I guess so. Her internet is down, and we're working on that article now," I say, attempting to avert my attention from her and her outfit. I like this one on her– dark overalls, a tight red shirt, and her white Converse shoes.

Nora hands the latte to a waiting customer before turning back to me with a grin. "So, are you going to ask her out then?"

"No. Why would you think I'd do that?" I keep my voice low, hoping Juniper doesn't overhear us, and I make my way towards the supply closet, grabbing a vanilla syrup.

"Because you literally can't stop staring at her. It's kinda creepy, Wells. I know she's pretty, but no one wants a Joe Goldberg in their life," Nora teases, leaning against the counter and twirling her hair.

"Who?" I ask, puzzled by the reference, but she waves it off.

"First of all, Nora, I'm not staring," I protest, "and secondly, she just got out of a relationship. I'm not going to be that guy."

Can I be that guy? The rebound guy, if that's what she wants?

Nora presses on, "Well, you should at least feel it out, you know, plant your little seeds here and there."

"Nora, don't say that," I say, shaking my head, dismissing her choice of words.

"Don't say what?" She asks, puzzled.

"Plant little seeds," I repeat. "Your metaphors need work."

She rolls her eyes. "What I'm trying to say is that I get the feeling she's not the type to stay on the market for very long."

She's right, and I can't help but agree. I can think of about five guys in the office who have been waiting for Juniper to become available. After her being with Beckett for a year and a half, it seemed like she was off the market for good, and everyone had given up hope. But now, that's no longer the case.

"I mean, look at her right now," Nora says, and I glance over to see Juniper engaged in a conversation with some guy standing by her table. He says something that makes her laugh, and then she politely declines whatever he asked her. "She could be taken at any moment."

I sigh. "Nora, I'm not going to 'feel' anything out or 'plant' anything in her head, okay?"

She grins mischievously. "Fine, but when Mr. Hotshot Lawyer comes around and whisks her away, I'm going to tell you I told you so."

I roll my eyes. "What makes you think she'd even be interested in a lawyer?"

"Fine then. When Mr. NBA Basketball player comes around and lets her handle his balls—"

"Okay, alright, I get your point," I interrupt, not wanting to hear the rest of her hypothetical scenarios.

Nora leans closer, her voice more serious. "All I'm saying, Wells, is that I'd hate for you to miss out on a girl because you don't think you're good enough for her. She seems like she's exactly your type, especially with all her weird little outfits she's got going on."

Nora pats me on the shoulder before walking back to the register. "I think you should just go for it, Wells. Or else you'll end up single forever," she says with a teasing smile before taking the customer's order.

I grab two coffee mugs and pour coffee into them both before turning around. Juniper is engrossed in her laptop, typing away.

Maybe my sister is right; I should just go for it. But aren't there like time frames for these things? Isn't there a certain amount of time to wait before asking someone out after they've broken up with someone?

Fuck. I need to look this up on Reddit.

"Hey," Wells greets me as he approaches, two coffee mugs in hand.

"Oh, thanks," I reply, taking the mug from him cautiously, making sure not to brush up against his hand because every time I do, that tingling sensation returns.

"Okay, so what do you have so far?" he asks, taking a seat across from me, taking a sip of his coffee.

"I was thinking, 'Local Woman Magically Vanished for Decades – Turns Out She Was Just Trying to Master the Disappearing Act,'" I say, my gaze drifting towards the ceiling with a smile as I ponder it.

"Hmm," he hums in acknowledgment. "I meant as far as scheduling the rest of the interviews, but it's good to know you're thinking long-term." 

I feel a blush crawl up my neck and I shift my attention back to my notes. "Oh," I stammer, "Um, yeah, I scheduled another one with forensics for Monday."

"Alright, great." he nods. "Also, I'm pretty sure that's James Foster's job to come up with the headlines, not yours."

"I don't know. I help him out all the time." I shrug, a smile tugging at the edges of my lips. "Remember that one, 'condom truck tips, spills load'?"

He snaps his head up, searching my face in disbelief. "That was you?"

I nod with a grin, and he burst into laughter.

"Didn't James get in trouble for that?"

I wave a dismissive hand. "No, he said he blamed it on that other copy editor who moved to San Francisco. Besides, I never told him to print it... I just gave him the idea."

He shakes his head, a chuckle escaping his lips as he glances down at his notes.

He doesn't immediately look back up, so I take the opportunity to steal a quick glance at him. He's wearing another navy blue shirt with the Hansen's Coffee Roasters logo, light-washed jeans, and a set of dirty white sneakers. It's his usual outfit for work at the coffee shop, but this time, I have a very clear mental image of what he looks like without his shirt – six-pack, chiseled chest, and that tantalizing V-li–

No... I just broke up with my boyfriend, and here I am, ogling my coworker as if I didn't just spend the last two years in a relationship. And of all people, WELLS.

No, no, no, no, NO.

I mentally scold myself and shake my head, attempting to clear the images of him shirtless (maybe more), and force myself to refocus on my computer screen.

"Alright, Mario," he says, breaking the silence. "Anything you want to add to this?"

I look back up at him, confused. "Mario?" I ask, and he glances down at my overalls and red shirt.

"Oh," I say, furrowing my brow as I realize the reference, and I snatch the paper he's holding out in front of me.

Okay, well, I guess there goes our one nice conversation from the other day.

"What time is the interview again?" he asks, as I look over the questions.

"Um, in about 45 minutes."

"Okay, well why don't we go over what we have for the beginning of the article?" He looks up at me. "You want to read to me what you have written so far?"

"Right now?" I ask, slightly surprised.

"Yeah. Is that okay?"

"Um, yeah, okay," I say, suddenly nervous about sharing what I've written with Wells.

I clear my throat, open my Word document, and begin reading my draft, "In different parts of the country, two families were caught in tragic mysteries. In Seattle, a family lost a wife to suicide, only to discover she had hidden her true identity. They couldn't find out who she really was, no matter how hard they searched."

"'Meanwhile, in Cincinnati, another family grappled with the disappearance of a young woman. She had vanished abruptly, leaving no clues behind. For three decades, they held onto hope, wondering where she might be.'"

"Hmm," he says, and I glance up at him, noticing his less-than-impressed expression. "I don't like it."

I roll my eyes. Of course, he doesn't like it.

"What if it went more like this?" he suggests, taking my computer, turning it toward himself, and starts to type.

"Sure, go ahead. Take my laptop. No need to ask," I respond sarcastically, and he looks up from it with a smirk on his face.

After a moment, he pauses and reads out loud, "In opposite corners of the country, two families were on the flip sides of the same tragic mystery. One, in Seattle, had lost a wife to suicide, then learned that she was not who she claimed. So who was she? All their digging turned up nothing."

He takes a brief pause, glancing at me, before continuing, "'The other, in Cincinnati, had lost a family member, too, back in 1986. The young woman had fled abruptly, leaving no clue. Where was she? They spent 30 years hoping she was alive and safe.'"

Shit. That's way better.

"Hmm," I hum mulling it over, pretending to consider his edit. "I like mine better," I say, defending my choice with a slight scrunch of my nose.

He leans in closer, narrowing his eyes playfully, and pushes my computer back to me. He bumps his knee with mine, goosebumps breaking out all over my skin. "Your's sucks. We're using mine."

"Okay," I reply, bumping my knee against his. "But I get to help James pick out a headline."

He chuckles, our knees still touching. "Fine. As long as it doesn't have the words 'condom,' 'tip,' or 'spill' in it."

I let one single laugh out, unable to contain it. "Deal."

We work together in silence for a while, his knee continuing to press against mine and my mind drifts. I struggle to focus and I can't think of anything else really. I'm just staring at my computer, fixated on how his knee is sending a searing sensation through my overalls and onto my knee. He probably doesn't even realize he is touching me, which shows how delusional I am right now. I think I'm spending too much time with Wells.

"Who are we interviewing again? The sister?" he asks, jolting me back to reality.

I clear my throat, trying to regain my focus. "Um, uh, Cathy McClure, the sister. Yeah."

He smirks and looks up from his notes. "Ah yes, chatty Cathy from Cincinnati," he says playfully. "Do you want to take the lead on interviewing or should I?"

"You can take the lead."

We both shift to the couch in the back of the coffee shop and set up there for a bit more comfort. Interviews can be time-consuming, but thankfully, Cathy is very chatty, and we manage to finish in just two hours. It goes smoothly, mostly with him doing the talking while I interject here and there. Honestly, he is really good at his job, much better than I am. Most of the time, I sat there and take notes for both of us.

But as soon as we finish up, I book it out of the coffee shop because the sensation I'm getting from working this closely with him is starting weird me out, and I need space. Or at least the weekend to not be around him.

Notes
Thoughts on this chapter?
Do we think Wells will make a move and ask her out, or do you think it's too soon for that?

Thank you everyone for reading, commenting, and voting! ❤️