Harry’s eyes narrowed. “You’re acting sus. You’re usually a drill sergeant. Monday. Ten thirty sharp. Coffee. Right?”
I put my tools down. Truthfully, I was tired as shit, and my back was killing me after being stuck on the pull-out cot. Caffeine sounded good. Maybe Lola wouldn’t be at the coffee shop. She wasn’t there every day. Not like the store…
“Okay,” I muttered.
Wrong call.
Brooke and Lola were wandering towards the coffee shop just as I pulled into the parking space out front. I almost took out a tourist because my eyes were too busy staring at the sweet girl clutching a bright pink container instead of focusing on the road.
Harry was out of the truck in a flash. “Hey, Lola from the City!”
Lola shrank back. She really hated that nickname. Not that Harry noticed. Grinning, he waved to her and then bounded into the coffee shop. Brooke tottered after him.
I would’ve followed, too, but Lola blocked my way. Café tables and the metal bin trapped me on both sides. I couldn’t dodge her.
Her eyes dropped to the pink container clutched against her stomach. “Hi,” she whispered.
I said nothing.
“We didn’t get to say goodbye this morning.” Lola hesitated, taking a breath that made her shoulders hike up. “You, um… probably had a big job to get started on…or…something?” Her blue eyes lifted, misty, and she buried her teeth in her lip.
My heart twisted. I’d done that. Hurt her. I could’ve made some flimsy excuse and softened the blow, but we couldn’t risk another night together.
“No,” I said, flat.
Her eyebrows pinched together. “Oh.” She pushed her glasses up, an uncertain smile on her pretty lips. “We never got to dessert after, um…” She held out the container. “It’s a piece of the apple pie.”
Lola was so damn sweet and perfect. I wanted to sink to my knees and confess everything. Beg her to forgive me and give me another chance. Take her home to my bed and show her how sorry I was.
I didn’t. I stood there. Silent.
Unsettled by the stone wall glaring back at her, Lola’s eyes darted around the street. “Apple is your favourite, right?”
“Don’t need it.”
Another smile cracked through her confusion. “Well, no oneneedsapple pie.” She laughed nervously. “But here”—she thrust the container at me—“it’s home-baked and so yummy. I tried some for br—”
Lola’s words died in her throat when my palm landed flat against the container. I pushed it back at her.
“Don’twantit,” I said.
The water pooling in the corners of her eyes disappeared with rapid blinks, but she pulled the pink container protectively into her chest. “Aiden, did I do something wr—”
“It’s busy in there today!” Harry bounded up with a laugh. “Oh!” His eyes landed on the container. “What you got there, Lola from the City?”
Lola winced. That name again. “Apple pie.” She looked nervously between Harry and me. “Would you like it?”
“Oh, hells yeah! You’re a great cook, right?” Harry grinned as he balanced our coffee cups on top of each other to free up a hand. “Gimme that.”
My gaze narrowed on Harry’s grubby paw wrapping around my gift. Lola had packed that for me. I clenched my jaw. If I didn’t get to have it, he sure as hell wasn’t. I snatched the pink container from him and whipped around to glare at Lola. She shuffled a step backwards.
My voice was low, nothing but ice, when I said, “Take the hint, Lola.”
I dumped the container into the bin beside her.
Harry’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Why the f—”
“We’re going,” I snapped at him.
