tidy but plain. One house had a group of men standing out front, smoking and drinking with music blaring.
“It’s a bit farther up,” Audrey said. She was smiling too much now—like it might distract Ronan from what he was seeing.
“I’m not judging you, Audrey,” he said.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She’d shared a little of herself tonight, but each piece was like extracting a tooth. She was so eager to take information in, but she guarded information about her own life like a dragon protecting its gold. No doubt people in the past had judged her. He was well aware how money changed people—his mother had been a broke artist in the beginning, and she’d been softer, then. But the more money she made, the more fame she accrued in the art world, the more selfish and self-invested she became, always wanting more, more, more.
“It’s there, next to the house with the yellow car.”
Ronan pulled up on the side of the road and killed the engine. He wanted to say so much—to reassure Audrey that he didn’t think less of her because she hadn’t finished high school and because she didn’t live in the nice part of town. Frankly, her tenacity and resilience were better qualities than anything money could buy.
But he got the feeling that trying to reassure her would only make her more uncomfortable, so he kept his mouth shut.
“Thanks again for the ride,” she said, her hand drifting to his arm for the briefest touch. Yet as innocent and simple as it was, the gesture electrified him. It burned him from the inside out. Her olive-green eyes looked almost golden under the streetlights, and her features were sharpened by shadows. “You’ve got a kind heart, Ronan Walsh.”
Unwilling to say anything that might ruin the moment, he simply nodded and watched as Audrey turned around to her sister, who’d fallen asleep in the backseat, phone dangling precariously from one hand. Deanna woke with a groggy shake of her head, and they bid him goodbye.
He stayed in his car for a moment to make sure they got inside safely, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and cycling the night’s events through his head.
Dangerous or safe or both? Whatever Audrey was, she’d officially burrowed under his skin.
…
Audrey’s Fridays always felt like three days rolled into one. She started work at eight, opening Kisspresso and making sure the townsfolk were well caffeinated, and finished shift number one around three p.m. Then it was onto shift number two at Game of Stones to manage the store from three thirty until the store closed at eight. By the time she fixed up the register, balanced the books, and dusted, it would be after eight thirty. Staring down the barrel of such a long day was exhausting, even when she was only three hours in.
“One extra-shot latte and two caramel iced coffees coming up,” Audrey said.
She swiped her hands down the front of her apron, wincing at the mark on her wrist. A soft bruise was blossoming under her skin, and she tugged down the sleeves on the white long-sleeved T-shirt she’d worn under her uniform polo shirt despite it being hot enough to walk around without any sleeves at all.
She lost herself in the meditative process of making the orders, hands drifting from portafilter to milk jug to ice scoop. Last night had been a strange, mixed bag of things. Having time alone with Ronan—well, if you didn’t count Deanna passed out in the backseat—had made her feel almost like a normal twenty-something woman on a night out.
It had been so long since she’d gone on a date, she’d almost forgotten how delightful that fluttery feeling was.
Except it wasn’t a date.
And the fluttery feeling had been lost the second she’d set foot in her house. Audrey shook the negative thoughts off, stopping herself before she got dragged down. There was no time for bad feelings today; she had customers to serve and two shifts to get through.
“One large Americano, no room,” said the young woman behind the cash register as she scribbled on the takeout cup and slid it along the bench to Audrey. “Two cappuccinos, one with an extra shot.”
Audrey’s head snapped up at the familiar order. She’d been so in the zone, she hadn’t even noticed Nicole walk into the café. “Hey girl.”
“Hey yourself.” Nicole waved as she handed her company credit card over to the cashier. Today she had on a fitted black pencil skirt and a