“That’s how this one does.”
Cole clears his throat, already swiping the card. Traitor. The receipt prints. He tears it off and hands it to Lucky, then looks at me. “You did good, Savannah. It fits him.” Lucky takes the receipt and slips it into his pocket like this is settled.
“I know,” I say, my eyes still on Lucky. “That’s why I chose it. And you, of course, did amazing work. As always.” Cole smiles like this is routine. Because for him, it is.
Lucky’s gaze flicks to Cole then back to me. It’s quick, but I catch it. His jaw tightens just a notch, the muscle ticking like he doesn’t love how familiar we sound. How easy.
He nods at Cole. “Appreciate it.”
“You got it,” Cole says. “Savvy girl. See you next week for your appointment.”
“I’ll be here.”
Cole turns away, already calling something to the front desk.
Lucky looks back at me, and this time he does smile. Not big. Not cocky. Just enough to feel intentional. Like he’s decided something and doesn’t see a reason to pretend otherwise.
“Want to grab lunch?” he asks, casual on the surface, eyes anything but.
Like this isn’t a follow-up.
Like it’s been coming.
I blink once. “Is that an order, or are you asking?”
His smile deepens, slow and unapologetic. “I’m asking,” he says. “But I’m hoping you say yes.”
I glance toward Cole, who very pointedly does not look back, then return my attention to Lucky.
“Yeah,” I say. “Lunch sounds good.”
His hand brushes my lower back as he steps past me, brief and confident, already moving toward the door.
“Good,” he says. “I know a place.”
And just like that, the bet is over and this is something else entirely.
“Want to ride with me?” he asks.
“On the back of your bike?” I counter.
His smile turns wicked. “Yeah.”
“I’ve never ridden before.”
Something dark and pleased flashes through his eyes. “Good,” he says easily. “Another one of your firsts.”
I lift a brow. “You keeping track now?”
His gaze drifts over me, slow and deliberate, like he already knows exactly how this is going to end. “Absolutely,” he says. “I’m collecting them.”
SIX
LUCKY
I stopbeside my bike and glance at her, taking in the way she’s trying to play this cool, like her pulse isn’t already tripping over itself. That look in her eyes tells me everything. Curiosity. Nerves. Excitement she hasn’t decided whether she wants to admit yet.
“Alright,” I say, easy. “First things first.”
