Page 11

"Ready?" he asked, grabbing his keys.
I nodded, swallowing the last bite of toast. "Thanks for breakfast."
"Don't mention it."
The ride to The Lazy Bean was quiet. I kept stealing glances at Novo's profile as he drove, still trying to reconcile this man with the husband I'd imagined when Ricky first proposed this arrangement. When we pulled up outside the café, I hesitated.
"What time do you finish?" Novo asked.
"Three-thirty," I replied, hand on the door handle. "But really, I can take the bus home. You don't have to—"
"I'll pick you up," he said firmly. "Text me if anything changes."
I blinked. "I don't have your number."
Novo looked surprised, then pulled out his phone. We exchanged numbers quickly, and I felt a strange flutter in my chest as I saved his contact information.
"Three-thirty," he repeated.
"Okay," I agreed, then impulsively added, "Thank you."
Novo nodded, his blue eyes studying me. "Have a good day at work, Matty." I slid out of Novo's truck, feeling weirdly flustered by his attention. The Lazy Bean was already busy with the morning rush, and as soon as I pushed through the door, I spotted Helena, who I hated working with behind the counter, her lips pursed in disapproval.
"You're late," she snapped, though a quick glance at the clock showed I was actually five minutes early. "Kevin had to leave early as he has an exam."
"Sorry," I mumbled automatically, knowing arguing just made her meaner, heading to the back room to stash my things.
"Who was that?" Helena followed me, arms crossed. "The guy in the truck?"
I hesitated, not sure how much to share. "A friend."
"Friend?" Her eyebrows shot up. "Since when do you have friends who look like that? Is he in a gang or something?"
"It's a motorcycle club," I corrected before I could stop myself. "And he's... he's my husband."
Helena's mouth dropped open. "Your what?"
I felt heat creep up my neck. "We got married yesterday."
"You got married?" Her voice rose sharply. "To a biker? Are you insane?"
"It's not—it's complicated," I fumbled, tying my apron with shaking fingers.
"I'll bet it is." Helena's eyes narrowed. "Well, your personal drama better not interfere with your work," she snapped. "Jenna called in sick, so you're covering the front and making drinks. And don't mess up the orders like last time."
I bit back a retort. Helena had been gunning for me since she started as the assistant manager four months ago. The owner, Marco, was a really kind man who'd given me the job when I was desperate. Helena had been trying to get her niece hired for days, and I was the obvious obstacle.
The morning dragged by in a blur of espresso shots and pastries. Helena hovered constantly, criticizing everything from how I wiped down the counter to how I greeted customers. By lunchtime, my nerves were frayed.
"You forgot the cinnamon on that latte," Helena said loudly as I handed a drink to a customer.
"I didn't order cinnamon," the woman said, looking confused.
Helena's smile was tight. "Our specialty lattes always come with cinnamon unless otherwise specified. Matty should know that by now."
I forced a smile. "I'm so sorry. Would you like me to add some?"
The customer shook her head and moved away, leaving me to face Helena's glare.