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“I can’t remember the combination, so it’s just easier to use my phone to deactivate it.”
His shoulders stiffened.
“You know I’m not yours to worry about, right? Whatever sense of duty you think you have to my sister is gone. You broke up a long time ago.” My heart thudded painfully in my chest.
“It’s not that,” he said carefully.
“Then what is it? Do you stop by Max’s to make sure he’s safe?” I wasn’t sure why I was complaining. I felt safe when he was here.
“He’s a friend. He asked me to check on the bar.”
What could I say? We weren’t friends? Because we weren’t. “I’m not asking you to stop by.”
Even though the thought of him coming to my store each morning sent tingles of anticipation through my body.
Colton cleared his throat. “The chief wants me to get to the bottom of this case, and Max asked me to help you guys out.”
I wanted to groan in frustration. “That doesn’t mean you have to watch out for me.”
I’d never admit that I liked it. I’d worked hard to be independent so that Delilah and my foster-turned-adoptive parents stopped worrying about me. The last thing I needed was one more person concerned about me. I didn’t want to be a burden.
When he finally answered, his voice was quiet, yet the words stuck. “I know, but I want to.”
My face heated. I ran the blender, taking a moment to get my bearings. Why did he want to check on me if it wasn’t about my sister or his job? Was he saying it was personal? That he was interested in me?
That couldn’t be the case because hooking up with him was off-limits. My sister would never forgive me, and I’d never forgive myself.
When the smoothie was mixed, I poured it into a glass and handed it to him. I waited, wanting to know what he thought.
He looked from me to the glass. “It’s green.”
I smiled at the boyishly disgusted expression on his face. “That’s the avocado. But I promise you won’t taste it. It makes it taste good. It’s kind of like putting spinach in it.”
His lip curled. “You put spinach in a smoothie?”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Colton Castle was this badass cop, and he was disgusted by green fruits and veggies. “Are you going to try it? Or are you too chicken?”
He raised a brow, tipping the glass to his lips. He took a tentative sip, then nodded. “It’s not bad.”
“Not bad?”
He took another sip. “It’s good, actually.”
“See? I told you.” I turned away to make a second smoothie for myself, swearing I felt his gaze on me the entire time. When mine was finished, I moved around the counter to sit next to him. I still had a few more minutes before I needed to open.
But sitting next to him was a mistake. The counter no longer blocked his body. His masculinity was in full force. He seemingly took up all the space in the room.
“It is good,” he repeated.
I rolled my eyes despite the warmth settling in my chest that he liked it.
He rested an elbow on the counter, turning to give me his full attention. “Why a juice shop?”
I hesitated for a second, wondering how much to tell him. The reason felt personal. “I like to feel good. Whether it’s through yoga, meditation, books, or the food and drink I eat. I wanted to share that with others.”
“Hmm.”
“What?” I asked, feeling vulnerable for being so open with him. Was he going to judge me? Say something about me being new age or something?
