Letting go of him, I peek out of the circular window on the door. I make eye contact with Captain Rude as she stands, jaw clenched, at the counter. A few more minutes, and she’ll leave. Surely.
“Teenagers are stupid,” Roman mutters from behind me as his chin settles into my hair. The stupid teenager’s eyes move up, transferring her scowl to him.
“No kidding,” I agree. “I can’t believe she was being rude to you. That’smyjob.”
He snickers, not disagreeing, and we let silence fall as we watch for her to leave.
She crosses her arms, cocks her hip, and pulls out her phone.
Okay, I guess we’re in it for the long haul, then.
Roman’s breath puffs against my hair. “Sweet?” he asks, arms settling around my waist.
“Mm?”
“Have you thought about the road trip at all?”
“No,” I lie. “Not much.”
“Hmm,” he replies. “I think, especially considering I now knowexactlyhow busy you’ve actually been, that you really,reallyshould consider the road trip.”
I sniff. “I’ll think about it.”
He tilts his head, and the stubble on his cheek slides across my curls, pulling against them in a way I don’t altogether hate as his hands grip my sides, forearms pressing hard against my stomach.
“Well!” I exclaim. “I better”—uh—“get to all that thinking!” Oof. “Okay, bye!”
Pesky heart beatingwaytoo fast, I book it out to the hallway and into the office, where the manager, Chris, sits behind his desk doing… I don’t know, payroll or schedules or something. Chris spends all of his shifts shared with Roman and me at Sweet & Salty hiding in the office looking busy because Roman, and I quote, “is terrifying enough to make a grown man cry."
“Hey, Chris!” I greet, smiling as I close the door behind me, praying Roman doesn’t follow me in. “How’s it hanging?”
His brows scrunch together over dark, suspicious eyes. “Do you need something?”
“I’m just hiding from Roman,” I tell him. “You know how it is.”
He winces. “If he comes in here, I’m not playing mediator. I do not get paid enough.”
“Oh, I don’t think he’s going to come in here,” I reply, hopeful. “I’m just going to give it a minute or two to be safe.”
He stares at me, bemused, then shrugs, turning back to his computer. “If you say so.”
I lean against the door as he starts to type, distracting myself from the lingering feel of Roman’s arms around my body by remembering the words he said, so gently, so sweetly, sosincerelyabout wanting me to take a break. It doesn’t do much to calm my racing heart, but it reaches further, calming something deeper within me and making me sigh.
He wouldn’t be my first pick for someone I’d want to make proud, but it definitely does not feel bad to hear him say that I have, and it doubly doesn’t feel bad to have himaskme to let him take care of me instead of his usual bulldozer method. Without the distraction of simply not wanting to do something because he bossed me to, I have the freedom to consider doing the thing he wants me to do—the thing that would really be a nice break from the chaos and stress that is my everyday life.
Huh.
Wild, but… I think I’m going to go on a road trip. With Roman. Who I hate.
My nose scrunches.
I do hate him, right? I mean… there was the whole being a sanctimonious jerk for almost the entirety of us knowing each other thing.
But, then, there was the him being an excellent brotherthing.
The explaining basic safety to me like I’m fivething.
The being competent and helpful at workthing.
