"Since I'm trying to be useful." Ryder's tone stays easy. "And Lucy needs the help."
It's not a lie. I do need help. But Connor's eyes narrow slightly, like he's trying to figure out an equation that doesn't quite balance.
"Fine," he says finally. "But I need you after lunch."
"Deal."
Under the table, Ryder's foot slides along my calf.
I focus very hard on my pancakes.
An hour later, the shop is quiet when we arrive. I flip the CLOSED sign—Sundays are my day off—and lock the door behind us.
For a moment, we just stand there. Then Ryder moves.
He backs me against the door, hands framing my face, and kisses me like he's been starving for it. I make a sound—half gasp, half relief—and pull him closer.
"Missed you," he breathes against my mouth.
"You saw me an hour ago."
"Too long." He kisses down my jaw, my neck. "Been thinking about this since breakfast. Since I woke up. Since last night."
"We're supposed to be doing inventory."
"We will." His teeth graze my pulse point. "In a minute."
A minute turns into ten. Twenty. We end up on the couch in the back office, me in his lap, both of us breathing hard. His hands slip under my sweater—not pushing, just touching, relearning—and I arch into it.
"God, Lucy." His voice is wrecked. "You're killing me."
"Good."
He laughs, the sound vibrating through both of us. Then he pulls back just enough to look at me, and whatever he sees in my face makes his expression shift—hungry and tender all at once
"We should actually work," he says, though his hands tighten on my hips like he has no intention of letting go.
"Probably."
Neither of us moves.
"Tell me something," I say. "Something you didn't tell me last night."
His expression shifts—guarded, then considering. "Like what?"
"I don't know. Something true."
He traces patterns on my lower back, thinking. "I'm scared this is going to end before it starts. That we'll run out of time and I'll have to leave and it won't be enough."
The admission lands heavy between us. I cup his face, making him meet my eyes.
"So we make the most of the time we have," I say. "That's all we can do."
"Is it enough for you? Knowing I'm leaving?"
"It has to be." I kiss him softly. "Because the alternative is not having this at all. And I don't want that."
"Me neither."
