“He might’ve kissed me. Once. Or twice.”
Emma squealed, the sound startling a nearby parakeet into frantic chirping. She grabbed his wrist, steering him toward the break room. “Okay, we’re taking five minutes. You’re going to sit down, and you’re going to tell me everything, starting with how you two met.”
“We can’t just abandon the store.”
“There’s literally one customer, and she’s looking at fish food. She’ll survive without us for five minutes. Come on.”
The break room was barely large enough for a table, two chairs, a mini fridge that hummed ominously, and a coffee pot older than him. Emma shoved him into a chair then perched on the table, legs swinging.
“Talk,” she commanded. “What’s his name? Does he have a job? Can he cook? Most importantly, is he emotionally stable, or are we looking at Chad 3.0?”
He could deflect again, make a joke, change the subject. But Emma was his friend. One of the few people he actually trusted.
He told her about the bar, about Sloane’s confidence and the way he’d made Jamie feel seen. About passing out in his car and waking up in his house. About breakfast and that kiss that had rewired his entire nervous system.
He didn’t mention William’s violence. Didn’t mention the bruise on his arm or the fear that still lived in his throat. Some things were too heavy to share, even with Emma.
When he finished, she was grinning like she’d won the lottery. “Jamie. This is amazing. You found a hot guy who brings you breakfast and doesn’t sound like a total psycho. Do you know how rare that is?”
“I know, but—”
“No buts. “Do you want to see him again?”
“Yeah. Which is the problem.” Jamie leaned against the wall, exhaustion catching up with him. “I barely know him. But I already miss him. How messed up is that?”
Emma’s expression softened. “That’s not messed up. That’s called liking someone.”
“I’m supposed to be smarter about this. After Chad. After William.” The name tasted bitter on his tongue. “I’m supposed to have standards.”
“You do have standards. This Sloane guy met them, apparently.” Emma squeezed his shoulder. “Just…don’t overthink it. See where it goes. If he turns out to be a disaster, I’ll help you hide the body.”
“That’s oddly sweet of you.”
“I’m full of surprises.”
Jamie glanced over his shoulder when the bell above the door jingled.
Chapter Five
Through the doorway, a customer stepped inside, rain dripping from his leather jacket onto the mat. Built like he spent his free time throwing cars around for fun, he had the kind of frame that made doorways look narrow. Dark hair, slicked back from the rain. Stubble shadowing a jaw that could’ve been carved from stone. Everything about him screamed danger, from the way he moved—too controlled, too aware of his surroundings—to the cold assessment in his eyes as they swept the store.
Not William. But close enough to trigger something primal in Jamie’s gut.
“I’ve got it,” he told Emma, already pushing himself up from the chair. His legs felt unsteady, but he forced them to cooperate.
Making his way to the front, Jamie plastered on his customer-service smile. The one that said he was helpful and friendly and definitely not cataloging the nearest exits. “Hey there. Can I help you find something?”
“Yeah.” His voice came out rough, like he gargled nails for breakfast. The guy’s gaze locked onto him. “You got snakes?”
Every muscle in Jamie’s body went rigid.
Not the snakes. Anything but the snakes.
Jamie’s smile wobbled. “We do. They’re in the back section.”
“Show me.”
Not a question. A command.
