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Her eyes twinkled as she lifted her hands, palms up. “Just saying.”
Amusement in his belly, until he looked up, saw that Teresa had frozen near the door, and the look on her face—
Fuck.
“What is it?” Mel asked, reaching for him again—then freezing. “Crap,” she whispered. “Go to her.”
Another woman telling him to go.
Christ, this was becoming a habit.
He dropped his donut to the plate, hopped to his feet, and moved to Teresa. She was putting in her order. “T,” he murmured.
She glanced up at him, glanced away. “Jeremy.”
Fuck. Her tone was—
“That’ll be $3.83,” the cashier said.
“No pastries?” he asked.
Her glance up at him was colder. “No.”
So, he did the only thing he could. He pulled out his wallet and gave the cashier a five. “Keep the change,” he told the woman behind the counter before grabbing Teresa’s coffee and walking away.
Doing the only thing he could.
Pissing her off.
Breaking through the cold.
Forcing her to acknowledge him.
Maybe he would have thought that was completely the wrong thing to do with everything he’d learned about this woman so far, everything he’d learned about himself. But the cold in her wasn’t…her.Wasn’t annoyance that he’d pushed.
It was…hurt.
Over Mel?
He glanced back over his shoulder at Teresa, studied her.
Not Mel. Or not Mel entirely.
It was…something else.
“Baby,” he began.
She turned from him. “Keep the coffee.” Frost in her eyes. “Since you paid for it.”
Tart.
Just a bit of sass that encouraged him to say, “Melody and I are just friends.”
A look—a dash of fire. “Right.” But she didn’t say anything else, just left the coffee in his hand and turned for the door.
He followed her out. “I quit my job today.”
Her pace skittered. “I—that’s good,” she whispered. “I know you were unhappy.” She started to turn away again.
