“I know, right? I imagined him getting angry and then I planned to point out how he was having a roid rage.” He shrugs. “One of these days we’ll get him.”
“Or we won’t,” I add. “I kind of envy him.”
“How so? I mean, besides his seven percent body fat thing.”
“Nothing bothers him. He exists in his happy little bubble. I bet he doesn’t even know what stress feels like.”
“Or he’s just better at hiding it than the rest of us are.”
I bend over, grabbing our bottles, handing Reed’s to him.
“Thanks.”
I swallow a large gulp of water. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough working out. I’m gonna hit the road.”
“I need to use the treadmill.”
I bump his fist. “Enjoy.”
“See ya,” he says, walking toward the wall of cardio machines.
I head outside and get into my truck. As I start the engine, my thoughts land on Ginger. It’s been a handful of days since we made the edibles, and I don’t want to wait any longer to see her. It’s not like me to visit her shop, though. But there’s nothing suspicious about me swinging by to purchase muffins.
As I pull out of the parking lot, I’m already smiling in anticipation of seeing her.
CHAPTER 9
GINGER
“Today’s been so busy. Not that it isn’t usually, but it seems even more so,” Alex, my employee, comments.
“I know. I love it.” I smile. “It could be the release of the winter coffee flavors or the chilly temperature outside.”
“No offense, but I’m glad it’s slowing down some now. My feet are killing me,” she says.
I glance at her stylish shoes. “You should wear sneakers or something comfortable. When you’re working, always choose comfort over looks.”
Alex makes a face. “I know I should, but I love these.” She turns a foot from one side to the other, admiring the black leather. “I’ve been saving up for months to buy them.”
I remember being a teenager and feeling so proud when I could buy something for myself.
“Well, they look great on you.”
“Thanks,” she replies, beaming.
“When you get to be my age, you won’t care about what’s in style anymore. You’ll wear whatever you want, and most of the time your choice will be based on what feels the most like pajamas.”
Alex wrinkles her nose. “I can’t imagine that happening to me. I love shopping and following trends.”
“Not caring about what others think is very liberating, and it makes picking out your clothes for the day much easier,” I say, winking.
She laughs. “I’m sure my mom would agree with you. She works from home and pretty much lives in pajama pants.”
“Lucky her,” I say.
A customer comes in, and Alex takes their order. I busy myself by wiping coffee drips and sugar crumbs from the long counter and then replenishing the stack of cups and lids. When I’m done, I turn around and notice Jordan standing there.
My eyebrows shoot upward. “Hey, I didn’t expect to see you here.”
