Page 67 of Don’t Go Breaking My Heart

Riggs showed up not long after with my bike on a trailer.

“You really think you can fix her up?” Riggs asked as we wheeled the bike into my garage.

I grabbed a wrench from the tool bench, running my hand over the scratched frame. “I can try.”

Riggs popped the top off a beer and leaned against the wall, watching me work. “So,” he said, drawing the word out. “You and Merritt made up?”

“Yeah,” I said without looking up. “Thanks for the push.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said, grinning. “This could blow up in your face, you know.”

“Not this time,” I said firmly. “I’m not screwing this up again. She’s the one, Riggs. Always has been.”

He raised his beer in a toast. “To second chances.”

I smirked. “To not blowing it.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “You’re still a bastard, though.”

“Yeah,” I said, laughing. “But I’m her bastard.”

28

MERRITT

The café buzzed with the usual morning energy. The hum of the espresso machine was the equivalent of the clatter of keyboards or phones ringing back in the office. The first couple of days, it had been distracting, but now it was all very normal. I was able to tune it out.

And the espresso and croissants were damn good. I took a drink and quickly scarfed down the buttery pastry.

I had taken my usual spot in the corner by the window, laptop open, notepad ready. My second meeting of the day was scheduled to start in a few minutes. My gaze drifted out the window to the people walking by. My thoughts went to last night and him.

What was I doing?

I didn’t want to hurt him again. I felt horrible that I had caused him so much trouble. To think I had made an innocent woman miserable before her death weighed heavily on me. I couldn’t have known. I had no idea Kannon felt that way about me. He could have called. He could have reached out. Hell, he could have told me before I left town.

My laptop screen lit up with a notification. The video meeting was about to start. I adjusted my posture, straightened my sweater, and put on a practiced professional smile. I expected to see my client, but it wasn’t him.

It was supposed to be a breeze, a casual check-in with a long-time client, but the moment my boss, Ron, appeared on the screen, his expression told me otherwise. I assumed the client was late. My boss sometimes got on calls, so to see his face wasn’t a huge surprise, but his expression said there could be an issue.

“Ron? Hi. I wasn’t expecting to see you on the call.”

“Merritt, we’ve got a situation,” he began, his voice heavy.

I stiffened. “What kind of situation?”

“One of your accounts—Haven Interiors—is on fire.”

“Fire? Like literally?”

“No, no. Although that might be better than reality. Their latest project hit a roadblock, and they’re threatening to pull out completely.”

I closed my eyes and counted to three. “It can’t be that bad.”

“I’m afraid it is. How is it going there?”

I knew what he was asking. “It’s going. I still have some work to do on the house.”

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. I knew what was coming.