Page 36 of Boulder's Weight

"Well," she says finally, "you’re doing great here. You're good with the customers, and the cats adore you. Just remember, Tara wanted you to work here so you’d be close to the club, close if you needed help. Boulder’s a manwhore, but he’s harmless. It sounds like the two of you have some history, too, so what’s going on with that?"

I want to groan, but I hold it in. "I don’t know, just enjoying each other’s company a little, I guess?"

Astra laughs hard. "I’m totally busting your balls, but I am nosey as all hell, so, fair warning. Enjoy the good dick while you have it, sister.”

Silence falls between us as we work side by side, restocking supplies and preparing for the afternoon crowd.

My mind drifts to Boulder, to the bar fight two nights ago, to his possessive declaration that sent shivers down my spine: "No one touches what's mine."

I still can't believe he punched that guy.

The memory makes me both anxious and, embarrassingly, a little turned on.

No one's ever been possessive of me before—at least, not in a way that didn't feel controlling or suffocating.

With Boulder, it felt... different.

Protective rather than possessive.

Like he saw me as something precious, not something to own.

But how long can this last?

The question haunts me as I mechanically go through the motions of making a latte.

He thinks I'm here on vacation, that I'll be heading back to Montana eventually.

What happens when he realizes I've been lying?

When he discovers I'm planning to stay in Chihuahua indefinitely to escape my family?

And what about when he finds out who I really am?

Not just Kelsey from Tart, but Cady Warlow, daughter of a convicted pedophile, sister to men who would sooner see me dead than let me live in peace?

"You're overthinking again," Astra says, breaking into my thoughts. "I can practically hear the gears grinding in your head."

I force a laugh. "Just... a lot on my mind."

"Want to talk about it? I've been told I'm a good listener." Her offer is casual, but there's genuine concern in her eyes.

For a moment, I'm tempted.

The weight of carrying my secrets alone is exhausting.

But sharing them means putting Astra at risk too, and I can't do that to someone who's been nothing but kind to me.

"It's nothing," I lie. "Just personal stuff back home."

Astra nods, accepting my deflection with grace. "Well, the offer stands. Sometimes talking helps."

"Thanks," I say, genuinely appreciating her concern.

The bell above the door chimes, signaling new customers.

I welcome the distraction, throwing myself into work to avoid dwelling on the mess my life has become.

The afternoon passes in a blur of coffee orders and gentle cat wrangling.

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