I sigh, fingers stilling on the keys. “Sorry, still working,” I say politely enough.
He forces out one of those,I’m not taking that seriouslylaughs. “You can’t work all day.”
I cock my head to the side, studying him. “Actually, I can. And I was doing great until about thirty seconds ago.”
His smile tightens even more. “You don’t have to be rude.”
“I’m not. I’m busy.” I look back at my screen while my fingers find the keys again. “You asked if you could sit. I politely told you that I was working, yet you still decided to invite yourself to my booth. You also said there aren’t any empty chairs. Looking around, I see three… make it four, that couple is leaving.” I gesture toward the newly vacated table. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m on a deadline.” Peering over the screen, I address him once more, “Anything else I can help you with?”
He doesn’t move. “You think you’re better than me or something?” he says finally, voice lower, rougher.
“No. I just don’t want to be bothered,” I respond with a bite.
His jaw ticks. “Lady, I’m trying to be nice. You don’t gotta act like such a?—”
“Excuse me,” A deep baritone voice says behind him.
Travis turns around to crane his neck to see who addressed him. The newcomer is tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing a black leather vest with a dark, fitted thermal Henley underneath. A motorcycle helmet dangles from one hand, gloves in the other. His expression is calm, but his eyes darken when he takes in my face.
“She said she doesn’t want to be bothered,” the biker says. “That’s the part you missed.”
Travis scoffs, but I can see the way his shoulders stiffen. “Mind your business, man. We’re just talking.”
“Doesn’t look like she’s talking,” the biker says evenly. “Looks like she’s trying to work.”
The man shifts his weight, glances at me like I’m supposed to back him up. I don’t.
“Whatever,” he mutters, grabbing his cup. “This place is full of stuck-up?—”
“Careful,” the biker says quietly.
Biker man doesn’t make any threats, but the weight of that one word is enough that Travis shuts his mouth and stalks offtoward the door. The bell above it jingles again, too bright for the tension it leaves behind.
The biker watches him go, then turns to me. “You, okay?” he asks, his voice softer than it was with Travis.
I nod, trying for a small smile. “Yeah. Thanks for that.”
He gives a single nod, like that’s all he needed to hear, and moves toward the counter.
“Wait,” I call. He turns around to face me. “What’s your name?”
He smirks. “Thought you didn’t want to be bothered, sweetness.”
“You’re kinda my knight in leather armor right now,” I tease.
“Frost,” he states.
“Huh?”
“You asked for my name. I’m giving it to you. I’m Frost.”
I laugh. “Oh my god, please tell me your first name is Jack.”
“Like Jack Frost?” he asks, confused.
“Yep.”
He places his palms on the side of my seat and leans in. “Frost is my road name, darling.”
