Page 14 of Held-

Mayor Kincaid is still standing there, his face mottled with fury and embarrassment. His golf buddies look like they’d rather be anywhere else on earth. One of them—I think it’s Dr. Phillips—won’t even make eye contact.

“Have a blessed day, gentlemen,” I say sweetly, pushing through the door before anyone can respond.

The bell chimes behind me, and I'm halfway to my car when my phone buzzes. A text from an unknown number, but I recognize the name immediately.

Squaring off with the mayor in public, Cece?

Who is this?

Just your friendly neighborhood Santa biker.

I stop walking, staring at the screen. How does he already know? It happened less than five minutes ago.

Another text comes through.

You okay?

I lean against my Honda, balancing both coffees while I type back.

Define okay. I may have just declared war on the most powerful family in town.

Good for you. They had it coming.

The simple support in those words hits me harder than it should. When was the last time someone took my side without asking what I did to provoke it first?

My dad's going to kill me when he finds out.

I make a great bodyguard.

I find myself smiling despite everything.

I think I've caused enough scandal for one day. How’d you find out?

My phone buzzes with another notification. A picture message. I open it and nearly drop my coffee.

It's him, Brayden, leaning against his motorcycle, staring directly at the camera. His dark hair is pushed back, and there's just the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. But what makes my heart stutter isn't how unfairly attractive he looks—it's what's behind him.

The Brewed Awakening. Their signature blue awning visible just over his shoulder. And if I squint, I can make out a blurry figure in the background who is unmistakably me, standing at the counter not five minutes ago.

Shit. He's still in town.

Across the street. Right now.

I scan the parking lot frantically, but I don’t see him anywhere.

Are you stalking me?

His response comes immediately.

Just enjoying the show. Your takedown of the mayor was better than Netflix.

My cheeks burn as I realize he must have witnessed the entire confrontation. I look up again, searching the street, and finally spot him. He's sitting on his bike across the way. When our eyes meet, he lifts his hand in a lazy salute.

My phone buzzes again.

Want to get out of here before the mayor calls in the National Guard?

I stare at the message, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. The rational part of my brain—the part that sounds suspiciously like my father—is screaming that this is a terrible idea. Getting involved with Brayden Cole would be like pouring gasoline on the fire I just started with Mayor Kincaid.