Page 48 of Shootout Daddies
We pass a produce market, and I stop to grab a few things—bananas, almond milk, a pack of croissants.
At the corner coffee shop, I pause. Storm pants at my side, tail wagging slightly as I secure his leash to the metal hook near the door. I walk in with Chloe, already pulling my card from my pocket.
I’m halfway through ordering a lavender oat milk latte when I spot him.
Salt-and-pepper hair, perfectly combed. Broad shoulders under a tailored dress shirt. There’s a sleek laptop on the table and a tablet open beside it.
It takes me a second to place him.
The man from this morning. The scratched car. The one whose expression could curdle cream.
I consider pretending I didn’t see him, but I don’t want to be that person. So I walk over, offering a tentative smile.
“Hey,” I say softly, shifting Chloe higher against my chest. “Small world.”
He doesn’t look up. “Hold on,” he murmurs, one finger raised. It’s then I notice the old-school Bluetooth earpiece clipped to his other ear.
I almost laugh. A Bluetooth? In this day and age?
He finishes his sentence—something about contract breaches and revised NDAs—and finally meets my eyes. His are steel-gray, unreadable but sharp. Everything about him is calculated.
“London, right?” I offer with a smile, adjusting Chloe’s strap.
“Landon,” he corrects, voice smooth but unimpressed.
“Right. Sorry. Again. For this morning.”
“It’s okay,” he says, but I have a feeling that it is anything but.
I glance at Chloe. She blinks up at him, entirely unbothered.
“This is, um… this is Chloe,” I say, touching her curls. “Chloe, meet Landon.”
I make it a point to exaggerate theasound hoping it will thaw whatever animosity he has toward me, but it does not.
His eyes flick to the baby, then back to me. “Yours?”
I hesitate. “It’s complicated.”
He doesn’t ask for clarification. Just stares like he’s building a profile of me in his head—one brick at a time. I hate that his attention makes me feel... small. Like I need to prove something.
“I’m a lawyer too, by the way,” I say, trying to even the scales.
His brow lifts slightly. “Oh?”
I nod. “Entertainment law, actually.”
There’s a pause. A tightness to his jaw. I can’t tell if he’s impressed or just pretending not to be annoyed that I interrupted whatever very important call he was on.
“I didn’t mean to bother you,” I say quickly. “Just wanted to apologize again for this morning. I’ll let you get back to it.”
I back away, nodding once more before turning to grab my drink. I feel his gaze on my back all the way to the counter.
The coffee is hot. Sweet. Exactly what I needed. I loop Storm’s leash and adjust the carrier strap again before heading toward the beach path.
The city stretches out in layers—glass and sea breeze and the hum of traffic. Chloe sighs softly, cheek pressed to my collarbone. Storm trots beside us like a good boy.
We walk for almost an hour. Past families, rollerbladers, couples with matching sunglasses. A little girl points at Storm and says, “Puppy!” Her dad gives me a sympathetic smile.
