Page 39 of Boulder's Weight

His friends hang back, clearly sensing this is something personal.

"Whatare you doing here?" he asks, his voice low enough that only I can hear.

I gesture vaguely at my apron. "Working."

His jaw tightens, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "I can see that."

I've seen Boulder angry—the bar fight flashes through my mind—but this is different.

This is controlled, contained, somehow more intimidating than his explosive reaction that night.

Astra chooses that moment to emerge from the back room, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

She notices the club members immediately, her professional smile sliding into place.

"Babe! Axel, Boulder," she greets them warmly. "What brings you boys in today?"

"Your husband got your text, but I’m here for a caffeine fix," the tattooed one—Axel, apparently—replies, still watching Boulder and me with interest that borders on amusement.

"I see you've already met our newest employee," Astra says, coming to stand beside me.

"Employee," Boulder repeats, the word like gravel in his mouth.

I can practically see the wheels turning in his head, piecing together everything.

Astra, either oblivious to the tension or—more likely—deliberately ignoring it, continues cheerfully, "Kelsey's been an absolute godsend. Picked everything up faster than anyone I've hired before."

Boulder's eyes never leave mine. "How long have you been working here?"

My throat feels suddenly dry. "About a week."

"A week," he echoes, his voice falling flat.

Python lets out a low whistle, clearly enjoying the drama unfolding before him.

"What can I get you boys?" Astra asks, trying to steer the conversation to safer ground.

"Nothing for me," Boulder says, his expression hardening.

The other club member—Axel—glances between us. "Maybe we should come back later."

"No," Boulder says firmly. "We're here now."

He moves toward the counter, forcing me to either follow or appear unprofessional.

I’m hyper aware of Astra's curious gaze and the scrutiny of the other club members.

She’s saying something to the group of them, but I’m so focused on my heart hammering in my chest that I don’t hear her words.

"I changed my mind. Give me three black coffees," Boulder orders when we reach the register, his voice clipped. "To go."

I nod, grabbing three cups and turning toward the coffee pots.

"So when were you planning to mention you worked here?" he asks, his voice deceptively casual.

I focus on filling the cups, grateful for something to do with my hands. "I didn't think it was important."

"Didn't think it was important," he repeats, disbelief coloring his tone. "Just like you didn't think it was important to mention you're not actually on vacation?"

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