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I brushed my dirty apron and lifted my purse from the ground, grabbing the lipstick that had rolled behind a tire. I peered over my shoulder; Austin stood with his hands deep in his pockets and I heard the sound of coins jingling as he looked around.
“Do you normally leave work this late?”
I didn’t answer because after what had just happened, I was too flustered and didn’t think it was an appropriate time to have a conversation.
Once inside my car, I started the engine and fought with the clutch. She sputtered and immediately died. I expected to see Austin laughing the way Beckett often did.
He wasn’t. His brows knitted and he looked like he was about to step in until the engine turned over and I got her running. What bothered me was the distracted look on his face. Austin looked like a man who was three ticks away from beating the holy shit out of someone.
And that someone was going to be Michael Hudson. I should have said something, but I drove off and watched him in the rearview mirror as he stalked toward the pizza shop with a heavy swing in his step.
I always believed Karma would come back to Michael for how cruel he was to me in high school. Karma just happened to be a man named Austin Cole.
