Page 3 of Her Feral Biker
“No, you didn’t miss me at all. Coward,” I murmured, dropping my bags near the counter.
Navigating my way around last night’s mess, I tossed the balled up card into the empty trash can and headed for the sole luxury in the shop that I allowed myself: a coffee machine in the back.
The scent of roasted beans filled the shop’s small interior as I worked. By the time the sun had risen in full and people litteredthe sidewalk out the front of my window with their waves and jaunty smiles, I was caffeinated and ready to start my day. Also, my floor was clean, the shop was tidy and the offending message was buried at the bottom of my little plastic pink trash can that matched the rest of this season’s decor.
By the time those same shadows outside grew long, my eyelids drooped and my coffee refill had grown cold. I tapped my mug with listless fingers and wished I had an extra hand to help out in the shop, but that was part of being a sole business owner…thesolepart.
“Thank you,” I murmured to Janice Flannigan as I failed to cover a yawn. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”
She stared at me with over made up eyes. “Yes, I’m surehewill,” she said pointedly, tossing bleached hair.
“Mhmm. Yep.” I nodded, my gaze sliding to my watch.Two hours to go.
“Can you believe it? We have so many people in town today!” Clarissa, my local hairdresser, bounced through the doors as Janice exited, holding a bouquet of paper flowers.
I blinked at her. “We do?” Her shop was a good two blocks up, and we rarely got to talk unless it was absolutely dead. Which did happen. “What are you doing down here, then?” I yawned again.
Okay, so midnight decorating was a really bad idea.
At least I closed on Sundays. I could sleep then. Wait, what day was it again?
“It’s sale night, remember? The shops are staying open for a few extra hours.” She peered at me, her brows dipping beneath her perfectly curled, blonde-bombshell fringe. “Youdoremember, right?”
“Uh huh. Yep.” My conversational skills were complete for the day. “Four hours to go. Whoo.” I added a smile when my cheer fell flat. “Whoo?”
“Five hours to go, Annalise. Do you want me to make you another coffee? Are you sick?” Her hand drifted toward my forehead.
I backed up a step and bumped my butt on the counter. “Nope. Not sick. Just tired. I did too much yesterday and now I’m paying for it with an exhaustion hangover.”
My gaze drifted toward the front window, but the shadows had already covered the streetscape opposite. I couldn't see my leather clad watcher, if he was even there at all. I bet he got a sleep in, and didn’t suffer from hangovers. Mind, he looked a fair bit older than me, so he probably had a bit more experience than I did in that arena.
That thought led to another thought, one about what other experience a man like him might have. Soon, my cheeks were blazing in a way that had nothing to do with how tired I was or how crappily my air con worked on a perfectly cool afternoon.
“Uh, Annalise?” Clarissa peered at me. “Are you okay? Like, really okay? Shut the shop up and go home, you know? You make plenty here, and sale day isn’t that important."
I blinked at her. She had no idea how much I needed sale day to work for me, and I didn’t want to let down my end of the bargain I’d made with the rest of the business owners in the street who had made a promise to trade longer and harder for the day in order to ramp business up and try to boost each other for one day. Business owners who already resented me for buying in when they rented. My neighbors barely spoke to me as it was.
“Of course it’s not. But the street worked for this. And it is. And I—” I stopped my word vomit and covered another yawn with my hand that trembled slightly.Dammit.I really do need sleep.“I’ll be fine.” The flimsy lie didn’t convince either of us.
Perfect blonde fifties curls bobbed around Clarissa’s pretty face. “I’m getting you coffee. Right now.” She bustled back outthe door she’d entered from, waving her paper flower bouquet above her head like a flag.
The door shut behind her with a bang rather than a tinkle of the little bell that should have done its dingle duty.
I really need to fix that.
The door banged again, knocking me out of my brain fog head space. I looked up to find the long shadows a whole lot closer, and my shop darker.
I reached up to flick the lights on. “Clarissa, shouldn’t you be watching your own shop?”
Silence greeted me.
I blinked and turned about, focusing properly on the person behind me for the first time. “Sorry. I thought?—”
But the customers in my shop weren’t my usual sort. Not at all.
Worst, I knew these sorts of customers. I also knew they weren’t here for sale day. The two men dressed in their suit pants and jackets looked completely out of place in Jackson Ridge and especially my store that mostly catered for moms and kids and the occasional harried dad who also often looked out of place.
But I knew these two men. Or at least, I recognized them. And I didn’t want them in my shop any more than they wanted to be here.
