Curvy. Burnette. Usually covered in paint or carrying something.
Always moving and always working. Most days she’d been inside before I opened and still there when I locked up.
I respected that.
Owning a business wasn’t easy.
Didn’t matter what kind of business it was. Anybody willing to put in that kind of work had my respect.
The lights were on inside the shop now and I could see movement through the windows.
Her.
My gaze lingered for a second. Maybe two. She was standing near the counter, looking around the place like she still couldn’t believe it was real.
I understood that feeling.
Hell, there were still mornings I unlocked Bad Habit and felt the same thing. Building something from nothing did that to a person.
I leaned against the window frame. She was pretty. There was no point pretending otherwise.
Pretty wasn’t even the right word, though. Beautiful fit better. Soft curves, long hair, and a smile I’d caught once or twice from across the street. The kind that made a person look approachable.
A laugh escaped me. Not that it mattered.
Life was a hell of a lot easier when you didn’t spend it trying to convince people to want you.
My eyes drifted back to Scoop & Swirl.
Tomorrow was opening day. The banner hanging in the front window made that pretty clear.
I pushed away from the glass and headed toward my station.
Sooner or later, I’d make my way across the street.
Buy some ice cream. Introduce myself and welcome her to the neighborhood.
Soon.
Chapter Three
Josie
The bell above the door hadn’t stopped ringing since ten o’clock.
At first, I’d jumped every time it chimed. By noon, it had blended into the noise of kids laughing, people talking, and the steady hum of the freezers behind me.
I couldn’t stop smiling.
Not because I wasn’t exhausted, I was. My feet hurt, my cheeks hurt, and there was chocolate syrup on the front of my mint-green apron that I was pretending not to notice.
But people had come.
They’d actually come.
The line had stretched to the door at one point. Mrs. Patterson from the bank ordered two scoops of strawberry cheesecake. The high school baseball team piled in after lunch and nearly cleaned me out of cookie dough.
I had spent six months worrying nobody would show up. Instead, I was worried I might run out of waffle cones. That seemed like a better problem to have.
