I leaned against the counter, one hip pressed to the edge, arms folded loosely as I stared at the front door like I could will it to open.Or not open.I wasn’t entirely sure which I wanted.
Because if someone came in, I’d have to dirty the scoops again.
And I had just washed them.
But if no one came in, then I’d just be standing here, waiting out the clock like my parents’ voices weren’t echoing in the back of my head.You never know who might come in those last few minutes.That’s where you make your extra money.
I sighed and pushed off the counter, grabbing a rag and wiping down a spot that didn’t need wiping.
“I could close early,” I muttered to myself.
And then I immediately shook my head.Nope.I could feel my mom’s disapproving look from the Upper Peninsula.
So I stayed open and waited.
Headlights cut across the front windows, bright enough to make me squint.I turned toward the door, my heart doing a small hopeful jump.
The low rumble hit next.
Not a car.
A motorcycle.
My stomach dipped.
Jesse?
The bike rolled into the spot right by the door, engine humming steady before it cut off.
The headlight died.
And when my eyes adjusted—oh.
Oh shit.
Jude.
And he was alone.
My brain immediately went into panic mode.
I could handle Jude when he was with the guys.It was easy to blend into the background, laugh when everyone else laughed, keep things light.Alone?
That was different.
That was dangerous.
I actually considered making a run for the door and locking it before he could get inside.
I glanced at the clock.
Three minutes.
Then back at him.
Too late.
He was already off the bike, and God, that was unfair.
