“What do you mean by that?”

“I got you to laugh.”

“Maybe I’m easy,” she countered.

He caught a flash of tongue, a bit of pink against her teeth. He liked her more now. She knew dalliance from harassment. Many women had lost that, had sacrificed good sense for politics.

“I’ll flatter myself and say you’re not,” he said, taking a careful step toward her.

“Why flatter yourself when I could do it for you?”

“If you really want to flatter me, call me.”

“I won’t.”

“Then I won’t give you my number.”

A smile brewed behind her lips. A chuckle bubbled out. The light changed and he thought he would lose her … but she waited … stood there staring at him, studying his face … his clothes … his boots. There was mud on them. On the way to the airport he’d helped to pull a car from a ditch.

“The light changed, y’know, Miss No Name. You coulda crossed.”

He took another step toward her. She didn’t back away.

“And you have another call to make”—she looked at his shoes again—“Muddy Waters.”

“No, I don’t,” he replied, concocting a story. “I lied to get a chance to talk to you.”

“Lying?” she said. “An admirable trait.”

“And as we speak,” he replied, “I’m composing grand epics … about how you wrestled me to the ground and forced me to take your number.”

She laughed like a higgler.

“Is someone waiting for the stuff in that bag?” he asked. “I hope not.”

“Unfortunately, yes,” she replied.

“Unfortunate for her? For you? For me?”

“Why do you think it’s a her?” She smiled awkwardly.

“If a man was waiting for you, you’d be gone already.”

“Oh! That is so sexist.”

“Sexy?”

She bit her lip and looked away. “Maybe I’m here because he’s patient.”

“Is he?”

“Not really.”

He raised his brows. She laughed again.

“So he’s probably missing you, then.”

She shifted the bag to her other hand. “I hope so.”

“You don’t know?”

“I mean … I mean … you can’t swear for people.”

He lowered his voice. “Are you missing him?”

“Not really … I mean …” She checked her watch. “He should be pulling up around the corner any minute now.” She laughed nervously. “Maybe I miss him … I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking about it.”

“How long you been together?”

She calculated quickly. “Going on two years.”

“Nice,” he said.

“I guess,” she replied.

“And you don’t know if you’re missing him? You know. You just don’t want to tell me.”

She suddenly became distant.

“By the way,” he said, trying to reconnect, “can I call you to tell you I’d like to see you again?”

“Sure,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Who should I ask for?”

“The-woman-with-the-man-she-doesn’t-miss. People are waiting for me. I’ve gotta go.”

She began to back away. He asked for her number again and she told him no.

“It was nice to have met you, Miss No Name.”

“It was nice to have met you too, Muddy Waters.”