Page 13 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

“That so. Town could use a little trouble again.”

Theo claps my shoulder once more, then heads for the door, leaving behind the faint echo of feelings I don’t have time, or interest, to unpack.

My attention shifts back to her. It never really left.

She’s already watching me.

I push off the stool and move toward the counter again, unhurried in a way that makes people notice, even when they don’t mean to. She tracks every step, chin lifting determinedly.

“Friend of yours?” she asks, nodding toward the door.

“You could say that.”

Her eyes narrow. “You know people here?”

“I grew up here.”

I see the shift of her posture, the way her gaze pierces, curious despite herself. I’ve stepped out of whatever box she put me in the second I walked through that door.

Before she can follow that thread, she reaches under the counter and pulls something out.

My jacket.

Folded carefully. Handled with more care than she’d ever admit to.

She holds it out toward me. “Here. Your very expensive, traumatized jacket.”

I don’t take it right away.

Instead, I let my gaze move over her. The line of her arm extended toward me, the curve of her under the apron, the way her body fills out the space she stands in because she belongs there more than anyone else in the room.

Damn.

There’s nothing restrained about the way my body reacts to her. It’s immediate. Constant. A persistent pull that’s been sitting under my skin since I walked out of here last time.

I take the jacket.

But my hand closes over hers in the process, fingers wrapping around her wrist instead of the fabric.

She inhales, caught off guard, and she doesn’t pull away.

I let my thumb shift against her skin, just enough to feel her react, just enough to make it clear this isn’t accidental.

Then, I release her.

She pulls her hand back quickly. She needs the distance more than I do.

“I had it cleaned professionally,” she says, a little too fast. “Like I said.”

“I expected that.”

“Well, yeah. I said I would.”

“You don’t strike me as someone who says things she doesn’t follow through on.”

Her eyes flick up to mine again. More aware.

I slide the jacket over my shoulders, adjusting it without breaking eye contact, letting the moment stretch instead of rushing through it.