Page 236 of Tormented Billionaire Romance Series

Maybe I can leave it in her locker.

I almost didn’t care if I got paid the rest of what she owed me or not. Pretty soon, all of this would come to an end. Once I moved, I would have to find a job closer to my new place. Suzie and I would never cross each other’s paths again.

Until then, I had to keep going, keep getting through this somehow.

Darren gawked at me from behind the counter and so did the new hire he was training, a shy and polite older man whose name I couldn’t recall. I ducked my head and hid behind my hair to avoid their stares and took my spot behind the register.

Pippa, the girl already behind the register, let herself be nudged out of the way without comment. She looked tongue-tied, like she’d forgotten how speaking worked.

A customer pushed through the front door and came right up to the register. I avoided looking at them, but their swaggering walk, glimpsed in the corner of my vision, told me they were a confident male figure.

“What can I get for you?” I asked.

“An interview,” he said.

I hissed in a breath between my teeth.

Undeterred, the man held up a press badge and pushed it at my face. “I work for Positive Press, a small newspaper dedicated to reporting on happy stories in this tumultuous time in our history. I’m sure you know why I’m here to talk with you in particular.”

“I don’t want an interview,” I said. “Can I get you something to drink? Maybe a scone?”

“How much for five minutes of your time?” He leaned in close and lifted his eyebrows.

This is what my whole day is going to be like. Reporters and crazed fans, coming in and bothering me in the one place where it shouldn’t happen.

I could see them coming out to my house, but to my place of work? Had they no self-respect to come and pin me into a conversation I couldn’t escape from?

A warm, strong presence approached me from behind. The new hire, whose name I didn’t know, leaned around me and glared at the reporter. Gone was his good-natured expression, replaced with a burning intensity rarely seen outside of wrestling rings; if he had leaped across the counter and body-slammed the other man, I wouldn’t have been very surprised.

“She said she doesn’t want to talk to you,” he growled. “And she’s working. You can either buy something or leave, before I drag you out of here myself.”

The reporter sputtered, looking indignant. He puffed up, squaring his shoulders, foolishly small in comparison to his gentle giant of a competitor. “Touch me and I’ll call the cops.”

“And then I’ll say hi to my buddies on the force while they drag you off in cuffs for harassment.”

The reporter hesitated, clearly weighing the threat. He grunted and stepped back. “Fine. But don’t think I’m giving up on this, Megyn. The world needs stories like yours in it and I’m not going to stop until I publish it.”

He scurried off like a mailman with a dog nipping at his heels.

I breathed out heavily and turned to my savior, resting my hand on his arm. “Thank you, Yancy. You’re my hero.”

His eyebrows went up and he grinned. “You remembered my name. I’m impressed.”

“I thought you were going to kill that guy,” Darren remarked.

Yancy chuckled. “I was first a police officer and then a bouncer. My wife just got a very good job, so I don’t need to work such dangerous positions anymore.” He set his big hand on my shoulder and looked into my eyes. “I saw the news program. If anyone ever comes in and bothers you for as long as this lasts, know that I will be around to ward them off.”

Tears sprang to my eyes from how touched I was. “Thank you, Yancy.”

“We’re all a family here, aren’t we?” Yancy shrugged. His cheeks colored pink All at once, he went from being my champion to just a regular, genial guy again. “Darren, can you show me that milk foaming thing again?”

“Uh, sure,” Darren stammered. He flicked me a look that seemed to ask if I’d just witnessed the same strange event as him, and then he led Yancy away.

The next customer was, predictably, another reporter. She had the same kind of lanyard around her neck as the first man, no doubt connected to a press badge, though she kept hers hidden inside her shirt. She acted like a normal customer, but I could tell she was taking notes, making observations about me.

After that, more customers came in and they all blurred together as the hours passed. I couldn’t tell who had seen me on the news and who hadn’t and who was there to try and get the scoop. My work surrounded me in a fugue and I was glad for it.

Another customer entered. I called out a greeting to her, not taking my eyes off my register screen. “What can I get for you?”

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