Page 129 of Worth the Trip

“As you wish, love.”

I pulled away with four pints in the cooler and Hershey’s kiss still sitting on my mouth.

I’d gone to Self Ridge to see what she built. I liked the shop. Loved what she’d done with the books. Liked her people. Liked seeing her behind the counter, in the kitchen, and across a crowded room looking at me like maybe I belonged there a little too.

But the best part of the afternoon had been simpler than all that.

Nolani had stopped making me do all the reaching.

She looked when she wanted to look. Touched me because she wanted her hands on me. Kissed me first because she felt like it. Asked to see the part of my life that mattered after trusting me with hers.

Yeah.

That was plenty for one Saturday.

More than enough to make me look forward to the next one.

Self Ridge loosened from my rearview mirror beneath a Saturday morning too beautiful to distrust. By the time the highway opened, Crème & Chill belonged to the people I’d trusted with it. Micah had production, Tasha had the floor, and Nyla had everything else, including explicit authority to ignore me if I called pretending to check on a crisis nobody had reported. Her message appeared before I reached the county line.

Nyla:

You crossed city limits before ten in the morning for a man. Our family has witnessed history.

I pressed the voice-control button on my steering wheel. Go manage something.

Her response came before the next exit.

Nyla:

I am. Your emotional development. Drive safely, lover girl.

My laugh filled the SUV as I glanced toward the passenger seat. Landon’s coffee occupied one cup holder beside mine, dark and plain because he believed flavored coffee was dessert suffering from an identity crisis. A paper bag held two breakfast sandwiches, fruit, and enough water to prevent him from pretending caffeine qualified as hydration. Last Saturday, he’d driven into my world with pastries for my staff and coffee for my sister. Today, I was returning the road, and I liked the symmetry of that more than I intended to examine before breakfast.

The playlist shifted into the old R&B song we’d argued about earlier in the week. Landon preferred the live version because, according to him, the extended bridge possessed “more emotional integrity.” I had informed him that refusing to end a song was not evidence of depth. Unfortunately, the bridge came through the speakers beneath a slow guitar and proved him right. I turned the volume higher. He would learn that information after a prolonged appeals process.

My phone chimed through the speakers.

Landon:

You on the road, love?

About halfway there. Coffee secured. Breakfast under armed protection.

His answer came almost immediately.

Landon:

Breakfast?

You coached all morning last Saturday and tried to survive on caffeine. I gathered evidence.

Three dots appeared before his response.

Landon:

Look at my Hershey applying research. Drive safely. I’ll see you soon.

My Hershey.