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“Kale, that’s completely unnecessary,” she said, eyes dipping to the jar.

Clearly, she wanted to refuse the small offering. Still, there was an undertone of gratefulness that there was no chance of missing.

“Sure it is, Shortcake. You made my day.”

She just stood there, staring at me, strawberries and cream and all things sweet.

I sent her one last smile before I spun on my heel and headed for the door. All this shit on the tip of my tongue. I pulled the handle, and the door opened to the sound of the bell jingling overhead.

My guts twisted in the same second I was spinning back around, striding to the counter in a flash. Faster than I could process just what it was I actually thought I was doing.

“Go out with me.”

Startled, Hope blinked in surprise, her pretty mouth trembling at the edges. “I . . .”

“Just dinner.”

What the fuck?

I hadn’t asked anyone to dinner in . . .

I slammed a lid on the thought, hammered it down with a bunch of rusted nails, swallowed hard. “Just dinner.”

Head shaking in regret, she took a step back, like she needed to put space between us. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

She was completely, one hundred percent right. It was a terrible idea. But fuck . . . I wanted it.

I let a grin tweak up one side of my lips. “How could hanging out with me ever be considered a bad idea?”

That stunning face flushed again, an affected smile wobbling around her delicious mouth. That was right before a sorrowful kind of regret took hold of her features. “I have a lot of stuff going on in my life right now. It wouldn’t be right.”

I nodded around the impact of the rejection, hating the way it bit and stung. At the same time, I did my best to convince myself it was for the best. I’d just dodged my own damned bullet. Because, really, what was I thinking? “All right, then.”

Awkwardly, I lifted the bag and the coffee in front of me. “Thank you again for these.”

She wrung her fingers. “You’re welcome. I hope you have a really great day at the new job.”

I didn’t respond, just pushed out the door and into the spill of the bright, morning sun, the bell chiming as it swung shut behind me.

I rushed for my car, feeling all kinds of shit I hadn’t felt in such a long time.

The whole way, I wished at least one of those feelings were relief.

4

Hope

“Harley Hope Masterson.”

I jerked my attention from the big window that overlooked the sidewalk running the front of the shop, ripping it from the vacant spot where the sleek, dark gray car had just pulled from the curb.

The driver was nothing but a shadowy silhouette in the blacked-out tinting.

I blinked to clear the daze.

Jenna stood there with her fists propped on her hips.

Turning away, I started scrubbing down the counter where the coffee had dribbled from my shaky hands. Apparently, Kale had that kind of effect on me.

Which was just dangerous business in and of itself.

“Don’t you start on me, Jenna. And you know I hate it when you call me by my full name. You act as if you’re my mama or something.”

“I might as well be because someone needs to knock some sense into you. Hell, I’m gonna call her down here right now so we can tag team you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” I shot her a death glare. Because seriously, her and Mama? That was what nightmares were made of. “And were you not the one who just gave me the we-have-a-creeper alert?”

I didn’t even need to air quote it. It was an expression Jenna had patented all the way back in high school. The single look told me, “Let’s get the hell out of here,” because she wanted to ditch some guy who was coming on too strong.

It’d recently been translated to, “Send this weirdo packing,” since we opened the shop together two years ago.

“He caught me off guard, that’s all. I mean . . . it was kind of weird that he just showed up here after he was so clearly into you Friday night.”

I shrugged it off. “He’s not into me. I bet he acts like that with every woman he runs across.”

“Um . . . I’m pretty sure he was picturing doing you right there on the counter.” She pointed to where Kale had just had his big hands pressed beside the register. “Maybe while eating one of your cupcakes off your tits. And believe me, he sure as hell wasn’t picturing doing it with me.”

For a second, I got dizzy picturing it before I snapped out of it and slapped at my best friend. “What is wrong with you? Why do you have to be so danged crass all the time?”


Tags: A.L. Jackson Fight for Me Romance