“The roughest.”
“That calls for extra chocolate, then.” She winks and heads back to the counter.
I tear into my croissant with more aggression than the pastry deserves. The chocolate is warm and melty, the layers shattering under my teeth. At least something in my life is going right.
My phone buzzes. Pete’s name flashes on the screen.
“Speaking of things I don’t want to deal with,” I mutter, then answer. “Pete. Hi.”
“June! Just checking in. Have you had a chance to think about what we discussed?”
“I’m still thinking.”
“It’s been almost twenty-four hours.”
“That’s… not that long, Pete.”
“The circuit leaves in less than two or three weeks. The sheriff is breathing down my neck. The rodeo coordinator keeps calling me and asking if we’ve ‘resolved the situation.’?” He sighs heavily. “I need an answer.”
“I just need a bit more time to consider?—”
Knock.
I glance at the window beside our table. Nothing there.
“—consider whether this is really the best use of my?—”
Knock.
“June.”
The voice is muffled through the glass. I keep my eyes firmly on the table, saying, “Is it the best use of my skills, given that I have a real estate business to run and?—”
Knock.
“June.”
Hazel is staring out the window, a grin spreading across her face. She presses her lips together, clearly trying not to laugh.
“—clients who need my attention, and frankly, Pete, I think there might be someone better suited to?—”
Knock.
“June.”
Hazel snorts. Her shoulders are shaking.
Knock.
“June.”
I refuse to look. I am a professional. I am having an important phone conversation. I will not be distracted by?—
Knock.
“June.”
Hazel has her hand clamped over her mouth, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
