Page 48 of Broken Pact

His shoulders tense as he turns around slowly, head tilting to the side. “You get a lot of kuttes in here, baby?”

“Not unless you count.”

He nods, his grin slow to bloom across his face. “You let me know if you get any trouble, yeah? I’ll take care of it for you.”

I shift my weight to my other foot, my mouth feeling drier than the desert. “I can take care of myself.”

He rocks back on his heels with a slow dip of his chin. “Just playing my part, yeah?”

“The protective boyfriend, right,” I murmur.

There’s a beat of silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. “Spitting Off the Edge of the World today, hm? Someone’s feeling angsty this morning.” He leans his ass against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. Forever the image of chill and calm.

It takes me a second to realize he’s quoting the caption for my post today. I stroll across the room, my steps slow and deliberate. The corner of my mouth curls into a self-satisfied smirk.

“So you follow me online then,” I murmur, stopping in front of him. “You checkin’ up on me?”

He flashes me a bright grin, winking. “I’m your man, yeah? Looks weird if I’m not following you.”

My smirk falls into something more serious, my heart picking up inside my chest. “So we’re really doing this then?”

His grin fades a little, his eyes softening as he looks at me. “I’m in if you are.”

I nod a few times to myself, content with that answer, and look at the coffees on the counter. “What’s all this?”

He reaches behind his back and grabs one of the drinks. He holds it out to me with a flourish. “An iced matcha from the Coffee Shop. Oat milk and sugar free vanilla.”

I dust my hand on my apron once more and take the drink from his hand, our fingers lingering for a second longer than necessary. I look up at him through my lashes, his words from yesterday echoing inside my mind.

It’s already a challenge keeping my hands off you.

“How did you know this is my favorite drink?” I take a sip, letting the frothy latte ease my nerves.

He drums his fingers against the countertop and he grins. It’s all male satisfaction, like he’s so pleased with himself. “What answer would be more impressive? That I knew your drink because I’m observant as fuck or that I asked the barista what your usual order is?”

“Neither.” I grunt with a light laugh and take another sip of my drink to give myself something to do. I don’t even know how to respond.

If he would’ve said that to me last week, I would’ve replied with some cutting remark that brought his ego down a few notches. But those same clapbacks don’t rise to my tongue so easily today.

I probably just need more caffeine. Yeah, that’s definitely it, I think as I take another long sip. I can already feel my claws coming back.

I salute him with my to-go cup, my grin a little too sharp to be misinterpreted as flirty. “I appreciate the coffee, but I have to get back to work.”

He waggles his eyebrows at me. “Whatever you say, baby. One more thing.” He slips something from his back pocket, pinching it between his thumb and index finger to fan them out. They look like concert tickets.

“What’s that?” I jerk my chin toward them as I take another sip. The Coffee Shop really does make an amazing matcha latte.

“Tickets.”

“Yeah,” I deadpan. “I got that part. I mean why do they say Grand Avenue and nothing else? Who’s playing?”

“No one. It’s their infamous haunted tour.” He grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh.” I pause, trying to understand the strange emotion fluttering inside me right now. I glance at him, suspicion heavy in my gaze. “Why.”

“Couple-y things.”

“Couple-y things?” I parrot, the question thick.

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