After a deep, closed-eyes breath, she unlocked the bathroom door and stuck her head into the hall.
Empty. Good.
She raced to her room like she was being chased by a herd of wild elephants. The door slammed closed behind her.
She’d made it. Thank God.
She turned to see that her bed was already made. He’d made her bed? And the room smelled of him. How on earth could it smell of him after one night?
With a groan, she dropped the towel and got dressed. She took her time getting ready, and only when she couldn’t hide any longer did she finally make her way into the kitchen. But that room was also empty. On the counter, she found a mug of coffee beside a note.
She frowned as her gaze slid over Jesse’s masculine handwriting.
I made you a coffee. Hopefully you didn’t hide from me for so long that it’s gone cold. I’m meeting Becket and Clara at the diner for breakfast. You’re welcome to join us. J.
Her heart gave a little pitter-patter, and she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed that he wasn’t here.
She lifted the coffee and took a sip.
How did he always make it so freaking good?
She could meet him at the diner. They had good bacon there.
Her gaze caught on her laptop on the coffee table. She frowned. Did she actually feel like writing? Her fingers itched to move across the keys, and words and storylines whispered in her head.
Would it all disappear when the screen was in front of her eyes?
Only one way to find out.
Still holding her coffee, she crossed the room and opened her laptop.
As soon as she opened her manuscript, her fingers started moving. Full sentences formed on the screen in front of her. Good sentences. And for the first time in a long time, she felt inspired.
Jesse pulledinto the diner’s parking lot. The place was called Rob’s Diner, because a guy named Rob had opened it. But he’d sold it years ago, and the name remained even though it no longer fit, so most locals just called it the diner.
He climbed out of his car. The place had changed hands a few times, and every time someone new took over, he hoped they’d make better coffee.
Nope. Hadn’t happened yet. Everyone seemed just fine with the awful pots of instant shit.
His mind shifted to Aspen. To the way she’d slept half on top of him last night. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He’d planned on getting up and going back to his own bed. But she’d been so soft and warm against him, he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes open.
A part of him hoped she’d join him this morning. But another part of him knew that too much Aspen could be a dangerous thing when she didn’t want more than friendship.
She was afraid to date him. Maybe afraid to trust him? Maybe even of trusting herself?
He was about to step into the diner when the door opened and Mrs. Allen stepped out, walking stick in hand. Her gaze immediately pinned to him.
Great. It was bad enough he had to deal with the woman at work, he didn’t need to see her when he was off duty too.
She was the angriest woman he’d ever met. Everything made her rage, and that walking stick was more of a weapon than an aid.
“Sheriff.”
His chest rose on a deep inhale. “Mrs. Allen. Having a nice morning?”
“No. That ratbag pizza delivery boy almost ran me down yesterday. I thought you were going to do something about him.”
“We’ve had a chat with him.”
