If only me needing to get to work really was a lie. I could do with an extra hour in bed.

Or, you know, another two or three.

I brush my hair once more to get rid of the dry shampoo. Some white dust from it falls onto my black work shirt, so I swipe at my boobs to get rid of it, then grab a hairband.

I run downstairs as I tie my hair into a ponytail and grab my purse from the kitchen table, ignoring my sister’s angry stare. I smile at her sweetly before slipping my sunglasses on top of my head and running out the door before Mom wakes up—no way will she be as accepting of my all-nighter as Dad was.

Probably because he’s the one with the gun license.

I close the gate to the front yard behind me and slide my sunglasses down as I turn into the bright early-morning sun. Within thirty seconds of walking down the street, I’m wishing I could be anywhere but the café today. Mind you, I think that every day. I’d always rather be in the tattoo studio with Jay while I save up enough money to take the tattoo course I’ve been dying to do since I left college two years ago.

As it stands, my art degree is in a very pretty frame above the mantel, but it’s not doing much else.

Damn expensive picture, if you ask me. Shame no one did.

I hum as I turn onto Main Street and push open the door to Penelope’s Café. The little bell over the door rings, and I wince as it echoes around the empty building.

“Jessie!” Ashley, Penelope’s daughter, sticks her head out of the kitchen door, her white-blond hair tied into a neat bun on top of her head. “Hi!”

“Hi!” I try to match her chirpy greeting, but by the way her eyebrows pull together, it obviously sounds like I’m just being a bitch. “Sorry. I’m a little hungover. I’ll try to be happy after coffee.”

Ashley grins. “I bet you’re hungover.”

Slowly, I load the grounds, press the On button on the coffee machine, and drag my eyes to her. “Um, what does that mean?”

“Aidan Burke.”

I cough into my hand and turn away. “You know, I might be sick. Fall cold and all that. I should probably head home.”

“Oh no, Miss Law!” She holds her hands out, blocking my only exit from behind the counter. “I want to know everything.”

My cheeks get hot as I remember everything. “No. No, you don’t. No one needs to know.”

“Rumor has it he’s good.”

“Rumors are rumors.”

“Rumor has it he’s dirty. Real dirty. As in, he puts the dirty in—”

“Did you forget I live in this town, too? I know all the rumors, Ash.” I pull my steaming mug from the machine and pour cold milk into it, stirring it in. “And I am seriously too hungover to have this discussion. Besides, I don’t kiss and tell.”

“I’m not asking about the kissing. . . .”

“I know.” I meet her eyes. “And I am still not telling you anything.” I sip the boiling drink. “Not a dang thing!”

No kiss and tell. No foreplay and tell. No delicious, glorious hate-fuck and tell.

We made a deal, and I’m sticking to it.

Besides, I’m not an asshole.

At least not all the time.

“Uh-oh,” Ash mutters. “Isn’t that your ex?”

“Does it look like a mole with chicken pox?” I mutter back, taking a deep breath and turning around. I look through the glass front door at the guy standing a few feet away from it, his hooded sweatshirt unzipped, his hands shoved into his pockets. If his stance wasn’t enough to tell me it’s Dax, I’d know by the scruffy, dirty-blond hair curling at the base of his neck. “Oh, look. It is.”

Ash laughs, throwing an apron at me. “I’m opening up. Want me to serve him?”

“A frying pan to the face? Sure. Be my guest.”

“Coffee, Jessie. I’d like to keep my job.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I’ve gotta face him sometime.”

“Kent!” She yells into the kitchen at the chef. “Keep the fryin’ pans away from Jessie here!”

“Yes, ma’am,” he calls back, laughing.

I might have a temper.

“Y’all are like pins and needles in my ass,” I mumble, finishing my coffee and putting the mug into the empty dishwasher. Ash’s laugh rings through the café as she dances her way to the front door with the key dangling from her pointer finger.

Chelsey is the first person through the door, and I blink harshly. “Don’t look at me like that,” she hisses, stalking toward me. “You didn’t come home last night, did you?”

“Say it a bit louder, Chels. I’m not sure my mom heard you.”

She rolls her eyes and, glancing at the people behind her, orders. “Latte, please, to go.” One more glance as I grab the takeout cup and she continues, “Why didn’t you text me? You should have texted me!”

“Dude, seriously. I fell asleep, okay? I didn’t know I’d be out so long.”

“Wow. Was it that bad?”

Ashley giggles. “Not from the way she blushed earlier. . . .”

“You blushed?”

“It’s been known to happen!” I blush again, putting the top on her coffee and pushing it across the counter toward her. She hands me a five and raises her eyebrows as I ring her up on the register and count out her change. “Stop looking at me like that,” I demand, shoving two dollars back into her hand.

“You better call me later.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She turns away and I smile, turning to my next customer. I run through the next two, the whole time becoming increasingly aware of a set of eyes on me. I wish I didn’t know them, because then maybe I wouldn’t feel like my skin is being sliced open and turned inside out with every second that passes and he doesn’t break his gaze.

My hand shakes as I ring up the order for the last customer before him. I take a deep breath so I don’t stutter as I give the total, because I’ll be damned if I’ll let Dax know I’m bothered by him turning up randomly at my workplace like it’s the only coffee shop in town.

I haven’t seen him since I slapped him across the back of the head and Chelsey dragged me out of the club.

“What can I get you?” I ask, looking up into his baby-blue eyes.

“A conversation,” he replies, leaning forward.

“You’re about three weeks too late for that.” My lips curve into a tight smile. “Can I get you a coffee? Eggs? Croissant?”

“Just a normal coffee, I guess.”

“Is that with cream and sugar?”

“You know how I have my coffee.”

“I thought I knew a lot of things about you, but I was wrong on most of them, so I’m not risking it on the coffee. Cream and sugar?”

His jaw tics as he clenches it. “Cream, two sugars.”

“To go?”

“Please.”

“Perfect. Coming right up.” I force my tight smile into a sweet, polite one and turn away. I flex my fingers before I grab a cup off the stack, hoping the tremble stays away. I know exactly why he’s brought his sorry ass down here this morning after three weeks of hiding, and I’m not entertaining his bullshit for longer than it takes to pour the coffee.

“How’ve you been?” Dax asks.

“Just fine. You?”

“Missed you.”

“I probably would, too, if I didn’t have to spend every second with myself,” I retort, hitting On on the machine. I suck my lower lip into my mouth and nibble at a bit of loose skin on the surface. Keep your cool, Jessie. Don’t blow up. “Here.” I put the top on the cup and put it on the counter. “That’s two dollars and fifty cents, please.”

“Jessie,” he implores, saying my name in such a way that the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“Dax,” I reply through clenched teeth, ignoring the tension spreading down from my forehead.

“Please, can we talk?”

“I told you. You’re three weeks too late.” I drop his change on the counter and meet his eyes. “I know exactly why you’re here. Save your breath. I’m not interested.”

“Jessie . . .”

“She said she isn’t interested.”

There’s no ignoring the shiver that snakes down my spine from the second male voice. “Aidan,” I acknowledge.

“Jessie.” His lips pull into a smirk and he winks at me. “Can I get two cappuccinos to go?”