I let out a real laugh this time.
“That’s… actually not terrible,” I said. “Except for the part where it makes zero sense.”
“Details,” Janine waved it off.
I shook my head, still smiling faintly.
“No, it’s fine. I dug this hole myself.” And apparently, I was fully committed to crawling deeper into it.
I bumped my hip lightly against hers in thanks. She bumped me right back.
I turned back to the counter, focusing on the pending orders. Anything to avoid thinking about what I’d just signed myself up for.
Going to my ex’s wedding was one thing. But showing up with a fake boyfriend? That was a whole different level of bad decision.
So I did what I always did when I didn’t want to think too hard about something. I worked.
We fell into an easy rhythm. Cups lined up, drinks called out, hands moving without needing much thought.
The noise of the café blessedly filled the space around us, like it could drown out everything else if I let it. For a little while, it helped.
“Hey,” Janine said after a bit, nudging my arm. “Maybe that’ll cheer you up.”
She tilted her head toward the street. I followed her gaze and immediately spotted a familiar truck pulling into a parking spot across the café.
The driver’s door opened, and Dane stepped out. He almost shut the door, then paused, like he’d forgotten something.
I watched as he patted down his jacket, then his jeans, frowning slightly before leaning back into the truck to grab whatever it was he’d left behind.
I caught myself biting back a smile. It was such a small thing. But it was also so him. And just like that, something in my chest eased a little.
Dane always made my day whenever he dropped by the cafe.
He laughed at my dumb jokes, actually laughed, and not just the polite kind people usually gave. He never got annoyed if I took a bit longer with his order.
Not that I really needed to. I had memorised it somewhere along the way without meaning to.
And he tipped very well. That definitely didn’t hurt. Also, he was nice to look at. Especially today. He was wearing my favorite pair of his jeans.
They weren’t tight or anything, just a normal straight cut. But they fit him in a way that made it hard not to notice.
They sat just right on his hips, pulling a little across his thighs and ass when he moved, the fabric worn soft in all the right places.
I dragged my attention back up, clearing my throat under my breath.Focus.
From the unhurried way he crossed the street, I could already tell he wasn’t in a rush. Staying in, then.
I reached for a ceramic mug instead of a takeaway cup, setting it on the counter before he even made it through the door.
He almost collided with someone on their way out, stopping short at the last second.
“Sorry,” he muttered, stepping aside.
His hand came up, dragging briefly through his hair as he moved past them.
That was when I caught the expression on his face. I knew that look. And I knew exactly what to do with it.
I swapped the mug for a tall glass and stepped up to the counter, smile already pulling into place.
