Page 194 of Worth the Trip

Her husband handed Nyla a business card with the festival name printed across the back. “You’d sell out before sunset.”

They carried their cups toward Scoops & Stories.

Nyla closed the register drawer.

“You heard that.”

“I have functioning ears.”

“The festival.”

“Nyla.”

“What?”

“We have customers.”

Her grin told me the conversation had merely been postponed.

By three, the crowd had thinned enough for me to retreat to the office. Invoices covered the desk, my laptop remained open to payroll, and Landon’s morning message sat unanswered because he’d told me to handle my day.

I liked that he could miss me without demanding constant evidence that I missed him too.

I took a picture of my empty breakfast wrapper beside the inventory sheet.

Me:

Food consumed. Empire intact.

His response arrived less than a minute later.

Big Lando:

Knew you had it.

Me:

Your emotional-support freezers remain undefeated in hours spent with me.

Big Lando:

Temporary advantage.

I laughed.

Me:

Jealous of commercial refrigeration?

Big Lando:

Nah. But I do object to anything getting your hands all day while I’m over here remembering what they feel like on me.

My grip tightened around the phone.

Me:

That was inappropriate for business hours.