Every so often, I looked across the street.
Not on purpose.
Never on purpose.
I would turn to throw away a napkin, and somehow my eyes landed on Bad Habit. I would wipe the counter and glance out the window. I would hear a motorcycle and look up before I could talk myself out of it.
Bad Habit stayed dark until almost noon.
Then the black motorcycle rolled into the lot.
My hand froze on the scoop.
Rome swung off the bike in one smooth motion, pulled off his helmet, and ran a hand through his dark hair. He wore black again because apparently that was his entire wardrobe, and he moved with the same easy confidence I’d noticed the first time I saw him.
He didn’t look across the street.
Not once.
He unlocked Bad Habit and disappeared inside.
I frowned at the ice cream in front of me. “Of course.”
A teenage girl standing at the counter blinked at me. “Um, is that my rocky road?”
I looked down.
It was not rocky road.
It was mint chocolate chip.
“Sorry.” I dumped the wrong scoop into a waste cup and forced a smile. “Long morning.”
She gave me a look that said she absolutely did not care but was trying to be polite.
Fair.
I made her rocky road and spent the next hour determined not to look across the street.
I failed seventeen times.
Chapter Six
Rome
I blamed the ice cream.
Not Josie.
Definitely not Josie.
The ice cream was the problem.
That was the thought I had on Monday afternoon when I found myself locking up Bad Habit for lunch around seven and looked across the street at Scoop & Swirl.
Again.
The shop had been open for five days.
