Chapter Six
Rome
I blamed the ice cream.
Not Josie.
Definitely not Josie.
The ice cream was the problem.
That was the thought I had on Monday afternoon when I found myself locking up Bad Habit for lunch around seven and looked across the street at Scoop & Swirl.
Again.
The shop had been open for five days.
Five.
And somehow, in those five days, I’d gone over there four times.
The first had been opening day.
The second was because I wanted more double chocolate fudge.
The third was because I was hungry and figured ice cream counted as lunch if you were committed enough.
The fourth...
The fourth was because I wanted to see Josie.
I locked the shop door behind me and shoved my hands into my pockets as I crossed Main Street. The sun beat down on the pavement, and the smell of fresh bread drifted over from the bakery two doors down. Small-town afternoons were quiet. A few cars rolled by. Somebody mowed their lawn a block over.
Across the street, Scoop & Swirl looked like it had always belonged there.
The mint-green paint was bright without being obnoxious. White tables sat near the windows, and the string lights she’d hung around the front made the place feel warmer at night than any business had a right to.
The OPEN sign glowed in the window.
I pulled open the door and the bell jingled.
“Welcome to Scoop & Swirl,” Josie called automatically. Then she looked up and her expression changed.
Not dramatically, but just enough for me to notice.
“Oh.”
I shut the door behind me. “Oh?”
She shrugged. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“I sound surprised.”
“You look disappointed.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ve known you for all of five days and somehow you’re already annoying. Not that I’ve been counting the days.”
I grinned.
Josie stood behind the counter wearing jeans, sneakers, and a Scoop & Swirl T-shirt that stretched over curves I’d spent most of our conversations pretending she didn’t have, but I could tell she wasn’t comfortable with.
Not that she talked badly about herself. Not exactly, but she made little comments.
Tiny ones.
Like apologizing for taking up space before squeezing past me in her own damn shop.
The place was empty except for an older couple sitting by the window sharing a banana split.
“You want your usual?” she asked.
“I’ve been here four times.”
“Exactly.”
“That’s not enough visits for a usual.”
“It is at an ice cream shop.”
I looked up at the menu. “I’ll take something different.”
“You say that every time.”
“And?”
“You order the same thing.”
“I like consistency.”
“You like chocolate.”
“That too.”
She grabbed a waffle bowl. “I knew it.”
“I hate that.”
“No, you don’t.”
I leaned against the counter and watched her work.
Josie moved differently now than she had on opening day.
Less frantic.
More confident.
She still worked hard. Every time I came in, she was cleaning, organizing, or restocking something. But she wasn’t running on panic anymore.
The shop was becoming hers.
She scooped the ice cream with practiced motions.
Double chocolate fudge.
Extra fudge drizzle.
Chocolate shavings.
The exact same thing she’d given me the first day.
I pointed at the bowl. “You know I might want something else.”
“You don’t.”
“You seem awfully sure.”
She slid it across the counter. “You walked in and immediately looked at the sign.”
“I was reading.”
“You were making sure I still had it.”
I stared at her.
She stared back.
Shit.
She wasn’t wrong.
I dug out my wallet and she shook her head.
“This one’s free.”
“No.”
“It’s customer appreciation. You’re my first regular.”
“I doubt that. What about that old guy in the corner?”
“He’s close, but not yet.” She smiled. “You are my first regular. Today my regulars don’t pay.”
I set cash on the counter anyway. “I’m paying.”
She sighed dramatically. “You’re impossible.”
“I’ve been told.”
“By women?”
“Mostly.”
That earned me a look.
Interesting.
I sat at one of the tables by the window while Josie wiped down the counter. A few minutes later, a mom came in with twin boys who couldn’t have been older than six.
Chaos followed.
One wanted strawberry.
The other wanted blue moon. Then they switched. Then one cried because the other’s scoop looked bigger. Then they both wanted sprinkles.
Josie handled it without missing a beat. She knelt behind the counter so she was eye level with them.
“You know what the secret is?” she whispered.
Both boys leaned in.
“If you stop arguing, I’ll give you rainbow sprinkles.”
The crying stopped instantly.
I snorted.
The mom laughed. “You’re a miracle worker.”
“No,” Josie said. “I just know my audience.”
The boys ran to a table and the mom smiled at Josie. “You’re good at this.”
Josie’s face softened. “Thanks.”
Simple.
Honest, but I saw the way her shoulders straightened like she still wasn’t used to hearing compliments and believing them.
That irritated me.
Not at her.
At whoever taught her not to believe them.
The mom and kids left a few minutes later and the shop went quiet again.
Josie came around the counter and sat across from me with a glass of water. “You keep staring at me.”
I looked down at my ice cream. “No I don’t.”
“You absolutely do.”
“I’m eating.”
“You stare between bites.”
I pointed my spoon at her. “Bold accusation.”
“You think I don’t notice?”
I shrugged. “You’re observant.”
“I’m nosy.”
“I noticed.”
She grinned.
I took another bite of ice cream.
I just noticed things. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was thinking. How she bit the inside of her cheek while counting change. How she laughed with her whole face.
The fact that she’d started wearing brighter colors since working on the shop.
I knew because the first day she’d looked exhausted and nervous.
Now she looked happy.
That was different.
I liked different, but I wasn’t looking for anything.
I had spent years building Bad Habit, working when everyone else partied. Years putting money back into the business. I liked my life and liked being alone. I liked not having to think about anybody else’s schedule, feelings, or problems.
Women had come and gone over the years.
Nothing was serious, and nothing was worth rearranging my life over. I was good with that. More than good.
So why was I sitting in an ice cream shop in the middle of the afternoon pretending I didn’t enjoy the company?
We stared at each other, and for a second, I forgot where we were.
Forgot the ice cream.
Forgot the shop.
Forgot every reason I’d ever had for keeping people at arm’s length. Then the bell above the door jingled, and the moment broke.
A group of teenagers walked in, and Josie stood. “Duty calls.”
I nodded and watched her head behind the counter. The kids immediately started talking over each other, and she handled it easily, helping them decide like she’d been doing this for years instead of days.
I finished my ice cream and sat there longer than I needed to.
Watching. Thinking.
Not about anything important. Just... Josie.
I stood, immediately threw away the bowl, and headed for the door.
“Leaving already?” Josie asked.
“Got people’s skin to permanently scar.”
She smiled.
I hated that I liked making her smile.
I pushed open the door, and the afternoon heat hit me.
Before stepping outside, I looked back.
Josie was still watching me. She gave a small wave, and I just walked out. I had no idea what the hell I was doing, but I knew I needed to figure it out soon.