Chapter Four #2
Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not usually how people ask for ice cream.”
“Good thing I’m not here for ice cream.”
She looked at the bag in my hand, then back at me. “Are you robbing me with burgers?”
“If I was robbing you, I wouldn’t bring food.”
“Maybe that’s your tactic.”
“My tactic would work better if you got off the ladder before you cracked your head open.”
She looked down like she had forgotten she was standing on it. Then she lifted her chin. “I was fine.”
“You were wobbling.”
“I was reaching.”
“You were wobbling while reaching.”
Her mouth opened, then closed. Good. She knew I was right.
I pushed the door open wider with my boot and stepped inside. The place smelled like sugar, waffle cones, and cleaning spray. It was bright as hell compared to the street, and the floor was too clean except for a streak of chocolate near the counter.
Josie climbed down the last two steps, but she did it like she was proving a point. Slow. Careful. Annoyed.
I set the bag on the nearest table and moved to the ladder.
“What were you trying to get?”
“I can get it.”
“I didn’t ask if you could get it. I asked what.”
She folded her arms over her chest.
There was still chocolate syrup on her apron, and her hair was coming loose from the messy knot piled on top of her head. She looked tired. More tired than she had earlier.
“The blue box on the top shelf,” she said.
I looked up. There were three blue boxes. “Which one?”
“The one labeled lids.”
I climbed two steps, grabbed the box, and handed it down to her.
She took it with both hands. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I still could’ve gotten it.”
“I know.”
She looked surprised by that.
I stepped down and folded the ladder before leaning it against the wall.
“Then why did you make a thing out of it?”
“Because being able to do something doesn’t mean you should do it when you’re alone and half dead on your feet.”
“I’m not half dead.”
“You eaten?”
She looked away. That was answer enough.
I jerked my chin toward the table. “Then sit down.”
Her eyes came back to mine. “Excuse me?”
“You said you skipped lunch. It’s nine-thirty. Sit down before you fall down.”
“I don’t take orders from strange men.”
“I’m Rome.”
“That doesn’t make you less strange.”
Fair.
I pulled out a chair and sat. “Then don’t take it as an order.”
She stared at me.
I pulled the burgers from the bag, set one across from me, then opened the fries. “Take it as dinner.”
For a second, she didn’t move. Then her stomach growled. Loud. Louder than mine would’ve if I hadn’t eaten half a sandwich between appointments.
Her eyes widened.
I looked at the fries, not at her. Figured that was nicer.
“Traitor,” she muttered.
“Your stomach?”
“Yes.”
“Smartest part of you right now.”
She huffed, but she pulled out the chair across from me and sat down. “You’re bossy.”
“Only when people are on ladders after twelve-hour shifts.”
“It wasn’t twelve.”
I checked my phone.
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. It was twelve.”
I slid the burger toward her. “Eat, Josie.”
She stared at me for half a beat, then she unwrapped the burger. “You’re always this charming?”
“No.”
She took a bite, and for the first time since I’d walked in, her shoulders relaxed.
I grabbed my burger and leaned back in the chair.
The shop was quiet around us. It had the feel of a place that had been used hard all day and was also trying to take a breath.
It looked like a first day. A good one.
Josie chewed, swallowed, and pointed at me with a fry.
“You pie too?”
“Apple.”
“From the diner?”
“Yeah.”
She nodded like that information mattered. “Their pie is decent.”
“High praise.”
“I don’t hand out compliments easily.”
“I noticed.”
Her eyes lifted to mine, then she looked down at her burger.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
I shrugged. “No need to make it weird.”
“I’m not making it weird.”
“Good.”
“You brought me dinner.”
“You were hungry.”
“That is dangerously close to thoughtful.”
I took a bite of my burger and chewed before answering. “Don’t spread that around.”
Her lips twitched. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation?”
“Exactly.”
She glanced toward the front windows.
Across the street, Bad Habit’s sign glowed in the dark.
“Pretty sure your reputation is safe.”
“Why’s that?”
She looked back at me. “Because you still look like you could scare someone just by standing there.”
I smirked. “Only if they deserve it.”
She didn’t answer right away.
Instead, she studied me in a way that felt too direct and not careful enough.
Most people looked at me and made decisions fast.
Tattooed. Biker. Trouble.
I didn’t mind. It made life easier most days.
Josie looked like she was trying to decide what box I belonged in and coming up empty.
She dipped a fry into ketchup and took a bite. “So, do you always rescue women from ladders?”
“You weren’t rescued.”
“Good.”
“You were corrected.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Corrected?”
“Yeah.”
“That might be worse.”
“Probably.”
She laughed under her breath and shook her head.
I ate another bite and told myself not to get used to the sound. That’d be stupid. I wasn’t here for anything except to make sure she’d eaten. That’s what I told myself anyway.
I reached for a fry. “What time did you get here this morning?”
She winced. “Six.”
I stared at her. “What?” I asked.
“Six?” she repeated.
“Don’t say it like you don’t know.” She damn well knew what time she got here, and also knew that it was insane that she was still here.
“I needed to prep.”
“You opened at ten.”
“I know.”
“And you’re still here.”
“I also know that.”
“That’s a fifteen-hour day.”
She took another bite of burger. “I’m aware.”
“You trying to burn out in a week?”
“No.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
She set the burger down and wiped her fingers on a napkin. “I didn’t have anyone else today. It was opening day. I wanted everything to go right.”
“Did it?”
She looked around the shop. Her expression softened, and all the irritation slid off her face for a second. “Yeah,” she said. “It did.”
There it was again.
That same look I’d seen earlier through the window.
Pride.
Relief.
Disbelief.
Like she had built the whole damn place with her bare hands and still couldn’t believe it was standing.
I understood that look.
I understood it too damn well.
“Then maybe go home before tomorrow starts,” I said.
She looked at me again. “That almost sounded like advice.”
“It was.”
“Are you always this pleasant?”
“No.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“Usually.”
She grabbed another fry.
I watched her for a second, then looked away before she caught me staring.
Bad Habit was dark across the street except for the sign. My bike sat in front of the shop, black paint catching the glow from the streetlight. It had been a long day.
I should’ve been on that bike.
I should’ve been heading home.
Instead, I was sitting in an ice cream shop eating a greasy burger across from a woman who made me more curious than was good for me.
Josie reached for the ketchup at the same time I did, and our fingers brushed.
She pulled back first. Too fast.
I grabbed the ketchup and slid it toward her without saying anything.
She cleared her throat. “Thanks.”
“Mm.”
The silence stretched for a few seconds.
Not awkward exactly.
Just charged enough that I noticed it. And I didn’t like noticing things I couldn’t control.