“Don’t get used to it,” I mutter, turning away before she sees too much.
But my chest feels too tight and my adrenaline is still humming.
This day is far from over.
And I already know I’m losing.
EIGHT
BRI
I walkacross the street to Sugar Rush, the bell chiming overhead as I push inside. The scent of espresso, warm vanilla, and something covered in glaze hits me like a hug from a sugar fairy. It’s actually rude how good it smells. I’m trying to be a responsible adult who doesn’t inhale three cinnamon rolls before noon. The universe is clearly not on my side.
Ansley’s behind the counter, hair in one of her messy buns that somehow looks trendy instead of chaotic, wiping down the espresso machine like a pro while scrolling her phone with the kind of multitasking skill only a caffeine dealer possesses.
She looks up when she hears the bell. “Well, well. Look who’s up before noon on a Saturday.” She smirks, one brow lifting. “Let me guess. Work?”
I sigh dramatically and lean my elbows on the counter. “I’m just grabbing coffee before heading in. The guys still need payroll wrapped up and I want the inventory updated before Monday.”
Ansley hands me a look that could be sold as a productivity intervention. “Bri. Honey. You have been there literally all week. You are allowed to not be a spreadsheet wizard for one day.”
I grin, even though I know she’s right. “It’s still new. Mason’s trusting me with a lot. I just want to do a good job.”
She softens and reaches for a cup. “You’ve only been the Iron Reapers’ official office boss for five days and they already love you.”
I roll my eyes. “They love me because I bring donuts every morning.”
“That too,” she laughs, starting my drink. “But seriously. How’s it going? You liking it?”
“I actually do,” I admit, playing with a sugar packet. “It feels good to use my degree again. And the guys are… something.” I snort. “Half of them act like inventory forms are a personal attack.”
Ansley laughs so hard she’s wheezing. “I can picture it. A bunch of tatted-up bikers losing their minds over paperwork.”
“You have no idea,” I say, shaking my head. “Rev threatened to set the supply closet on fire if I made him look at another form.”
Ansley grins. “And Blade?”
My stomach does this traitorous little flip and I pretend stirring imaginary coffee will hide it. “He’s… Blade.”
“That’s not an answer,” she sing-songs.
“That’s all the answer you get,” I shoot back quickly. “Coffee first. Probing later.”
She laughs and slides the cup toward me, the lid snapping into place. “Fine. But tonight, we’re going out. You’re wearing twenty-something clothes and we’re doing something stupid.”
I take the cup, comforted by warmth and caffeine and the fact she knows exactly when I need a push. “We’ll see.”
“No ‘we’ll see,’” she counters immediately. “You. Me. Real pants. Fun. The end.”
I groan but a smile slips out anyway. “You’re exhausting.”
“And you secretly adore me,” she says, winking.
I do. And right now, this is exactly what I needed.
“Let’s go to Perdition,” I say, straightening. “The guys were talking about some college kids coming in lately. Apparently, they’ve been causing all kinds of trouble.”
Ansley makes a face. “Ew. Why would we willingly hang out with college kids? I’m looking for aman, Bri. Not someone who just learned how to do laundry last semester.”
