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  With that, she got out of the car. Ignoring the impatient moms in minivans behind him who barely stopped to let their kids roll out before they sped off to Pilates or hot yoga or whatever the hell they were in such a rush to get to, Jesse watched her until she got through the school doors. Then he gave each of the scowling minivan moms a cheery salute, using all his fingers when he really wanted to use only one.

  He still needed food. An egg sandwich and another tall coffee tried to woo him into the local 7-Eleven, but he reminded himself of his credit card bill, due next week, and the upcoming tuition bill for Laila, due sometime next month. The rattle under his car’s dashboard helped remind him, too, that his baby had just over a hundred thousand miles on her, and she had to last him another year or so before he could think about replacing her.

  It was going to get better, he reminded himself. Private school for his kid was important to her future, and sacrificing for her was worth it. At home, a few more hours of sleep and a shower put some lightness into the day. So did the dogs in the shelter where he volunteered. Playing with them never failed to brighten his outlook. His time there finished, Jesse headed back to his car, pausing to look at the gray sky. It looked like snow. Smelled like it, too. He was looking forward to a good winter storm. Which meant he definitely had to get something in his fridge.

  He didn’t usually shop at this market, but this place was conveniently close to the Angel. Armed with his reusable bags from the trunk, the list he kept updated on his phone and the small accordion file of coupons he collected from the bar’s Sunday paper every week, Jesse grabbed a cart and hit the aisles.

  And there she was.

  The woman from the bar. Colleen, last name unknown. Today, as usual, her pale hair was pulled back at the base of her neck in a sleek bun. She wore a tailored black wool coat that came to her knees, a hint of crimson liner at the throat and sleeves, and below it a pair of black-stockinged legs and librarian pumps with a strap across the top of her foot that, no kidding, left his throat a little dry. She carried a paper cup of coffee in one hand and pushed her cart, one of the little ones, with the other.

  She wasn’t watching where she was going. It was easy enough for him to let his cart bump hers, gently enough not to even slop her coffee. It was easy, but stupid, Jesse thought at the last second as she turned, frowning. Now he’d pissed her off.

  Again.

  “Sorry,” she said, though it was clear she knew it was his fault. “Oh. It’s you.”

  “It’s me. Jesse,” he added.

  “I know your name. You work at The Fallen Angel.” She inched her cart, containing a carton of eggs and a loaf of rye bread, away from his.

  “And you’re Colleen.”

  “Yes.” She could’ve pulled her cart away and stalked off down the aisle without looking at him again, but instead she cleared her throat. “So...you shop here?”

  Jesse looked at his own cart, empty at the moment. “Nah. I just come in, push a cart around for exercise. Beats the gym fees.”

  It had been a gamble, just as bumping her cart had been, but this time she laughed. Her face lit up. A man could fall in love with a woman who laughed like that.

  “That was a stupid question. Sorry.” Colleen sipped her coffee, her large gray eyes meeting his over the rim of the cup without sliding away.

  Those eyes. Shit. He was a goner.

  For weeks he’d been getting to know her little by little. At first she was only another customer, but over time he’d begun to notice the things about her that stood out. The quiet way she sat by herself, never engaging anyone in more than the barest of conversations. Sometimes she read a book. Sometimes she toyed with her phone while she ate some pub food, usually onion rings but sometimes fries. Once or twice, she ordered a basket of fish and chips.

  The glass of whiskey she ordered every week without fail, but never drank.

  But although they’d had their share of casual interactions, had she ever looked at him until right now? Really looked, as if she actually saw him? She had, fleetingly, last night, and it was obvious she hadn’t cared much for what she’d seen. Now she was looking at him again, her gray gaze pinning him, and he found himself struggling a little for words.

  “My father used to say there are no stupid questions,” she continued as though there hadn’t been a minute of painfully awkward silence between them. “Just stupid people.”

  “I was being a jerk. Trying to be funny. I’m an idiot.”

  She laughed again, not as loud, but the sound was as lovely the second time as it had been the first. That laugh dug into him, between his ribs. Into the tender places beneath.

  “I need to get going. I’ll be late for work.” She lifted her coffee cup his way in something like a salute. “See you...?”

  “Next Thursday,” Jesse said, and found himself wishing it were tomorrow instead of next week.

  Chapter Two

  Colleen pressed her fingers deep into the sore spot just below her ear. An old injury flared up whenever she got tense, which had been happening a lot recently. Of late, circumstances had required her have more to do with Steve than usual. No matter how she tried to never let her ex-husband get under her skin, he was still an expert at it. Probably always would be.

  As if Mondays weren’t hard enough, this morning it had been a series of texts about repairs that needed to be done on the house they still shared in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware. When their marriage ended, she’d been desperate enough to walk away with next to nothing just to be rid of him. If she’d been able to afford to buy him out, she’d have done it. But the only other option had been letting the place go altogether, and she didn’t want to give up the ocean. Not even to be entirely rid of Steve.

  Still, although they’d kept the condo and shared responsibilities for it, somehow it had become Colleen’s job to oversee them and Steve’s to criticize. Not that she was surprised. Despite Steve’s constant protests to the contrary, it had been that way throughout their marriage.

  She didn’t have time for him today. Work was kicking her ass. It was her job to keep everything running smoothly and act as a liaison between the small mom-and-pop operation being consumed by the company she worked for, QuidProQuotient. Usually Colleen enjoyed working with smaller companies, helping them to make the transitions. Despite how ravenous QPQ had become over the past few years, Colleen believed in the company’s mission statement.

  Enfold, embrace and embark on new adventures.

  There wasn’t much embracing going on right now. Matt Lolly, the former owner and president of Lolly and Pop Computers, had agreed to sell his family business more than six months ago, but had not yet let go of the reins.

  She thought about the conversation they’d had earlier that day since Mr. Lolly was...malingering. “I understand,” Colleen murmured, keeping her voice and expression neutral. “But believe me, Mr. Lolly, you are going to be leaving your grandchildren a legacy. Perhaps not the actual shop itself, but with the money you’ll be able to put aside for them...”

  “I started that shop with my own dad, and then worked in it with my sons.” Mr. Lolly gave her a fierce look. “Money can’t replace any of that.”

  Since he’d sold the company because both his sons had gone to find other jobs, and none of the grandchildren seemed interested in taking it over, his rationale wasn’t quite on point. But Colleen knew what he meant. She’d spent a lot of hours with her own dad in his workshop. Money could never buy back those hours.

  “Mr. Lolly, I understand your reluctance.”

  He gave her a stern stare. “I don’t think you really do. You’re going to buy my shop and turn it into some kind of fast-food restaurant type of place. My customers expect a certain level of service—”

  “Your customers,” Colleen interjected, “are all buying their computers online or down at the Apple store, and taking them there to be fixed.”

  Silence.

  Mr. Lolly cleared his throat. Colleen expected to feel bad about the
way she’d snapped, but the fact was, she’d been working with this guy for months, and he was still fighting her every inch of the way. She understood his reasons. She’d done her share of not letting go of things that no longer served her. But she no longer cared.

  “You’ve signed a contract,” she told him. “You’ve been paid all but the final amount. Mr. Lolly, it’s time you signed off on the rest of the agreement. Okay? I have a check right here for the final payment. You could go on a nice, long vacation. Or put this money into a retirement fund. Or send your grandkids to college. But if you don’t sign, I’m going to have to declare this agreement void, and you’ll have to pay us back what you’ve already accepted.”

  He looked startled at that. “But I’ve—”

  “Sign off,” she told him gently and handed him a pen. All QPQ needed was his final signature releasing QPQ to take over the daily operations, including the hiring and firing of the current employees.

  “You said they’d keep their jobs,” he said finally. “It’s just the two of them.”

  “Or that they’d get a nice severance. And they will.” Her company actually had no desire to keep Lolly and Pop Computers in business. She’d been instructed to buy out the company for its inventory and real estate, a prime location on the main street of a small town. What QPQ’s owner decided to do with all of that, Colleen didn’t know. Also didn’t care.

  Mr. Lolly sighed. Then sighed again. He hung his head, but if he thought puppy eyes were going to gain him any sympathy from her... Colleen put on a smile. She pushed the pen across the desk to him.

  “Please sign, Mr. Lolly.”

  He did, but with a resentful look she took as an affront, even though she didn’t react to it. At the doorway, the check still clutched in his hand, he turned to her. “It just seems like a very cold way to do business, that’s all.”

  He didn’t give her time to respond, and even if he had, what might she have said? Colleen wasn’t the one who’d pursued the sale or even closed the deal. It was her job to see difficult acquisitions through to the end, that was all. And she was good at it. Over the years, she’d sold her soul to the devil for the ability to support herself.

  With the plunging temperatures outside and bad weather in the forecast, all she really wanted to do tonight was put the day behind her, take a hot bath, get into a bed made up with fresh sheets and go to sleep. Her sleep last night had been interrupted again by bad dreams about losing her dad. About waking up in bed next to Steve, their divorce being the dream instead.

  But it was Thursday, she reminded herself as she poured another cup of coffee from the office communal pot. Thursday meant The Fallen Angel and her ritual.

  “Colleen.” It was Mark, looking dapper as usual in a three-piece suit complete with pocket watch. “You took care of Lolly?”

  She nodded. “Yes. He signed, took the check. I passed everything along to Jonas.”

  Jonas would take care of the final settlement with the Lolly and Pop Computers employees.

  Mark grinned and poured himself a cup of coffee. Then he made a face.

  “This is swill!”

  Colleen laughed. “Um, well, yes. I tried to tell you not to buy the coffee service company. You didn’t listen.”

  “I can be a fool.” Mark pulled a sad face so exaggerated that she laughed again.

  He narrowed his eyes, looking her over, up and down. “Turn around.”

  “No...”

  “Colleen, turn around.”

  “I’m going to sue you for sexual harassment,” she muttered, but did a slow twirl.

  Mark huffed. “Go ahead. That skirt doesn’t suit you at all. Why do you insist on covering up your legs? They’re gorgeous. And those shoes, my God. A nun would think they’re dowdy.”

  “I like these shoes.” Colleen looked down at her outfit. She had a few pairs of heels she wore to the office, but today, with the bad weather alert, she’d gone with a serviceable pair of loafers paired with thick tights and a long wool skirt. “Anyway, this is warm.”

  “But it’s so not hot.” Mark shook his head. “I should fire you.”

  She looked up, startled, to see if he was joking. “You wouldn’t!”

  “I like pretty things. This makes me sad.” He waved a hand at her ensemble with a serious look.

  She wouldn’t put it past him to fire her for her fashion faux pas. He was just unstable—and rich—enough not to care if there were repercussions. Colleen lifted her chin. “Too bad. I’m not here to look good. I’m here to do my job.”

  She paused. Both of them stared each other down.

  “Besides,” she added, “you act like I come in here every day looking frowsy. And that, I know for a fact, is not true.”

  Mark smiled and tipped his head back in laughter loud enough to make Jonas and Patty both peek over their cubicles to see what was going on. He spilled some coffee on the floor in his delight, which made him put his mug on the counter. He pointed at the coffee station.

  “Get someone to take care of this. This is disgusting. And you,” he said to Colleen, “leave early today. Get that abomination out of my office before it makes me puke.”

  “I have work to finish,” she said mildly, but Mark cut her off with a furious hand gesture and a scowl.

  “Out!” He said. “As a matter of fact, everyone, out! Go home early today. It’s going to be wretched out later. And take tomorrow off, too. I don’t want to see any of you until Monday.”

  “We’ll still get paid, right?” Patty popped her head up again. She was already pulling on her coat.

  “Maybe.” Mark had turned, heading for his office.

  Jonas coughed. “You have to, Mark. It’s in our contracts. We get paid when you close the office.”

  “Fine, fine, fine.” Mark didn’t look over his shoulder, just disappeared into his office and closed the door.

  Jonas, Patty and Colleen shared a look. Of the three of them, Colleen had known Mark the longest. Her relationship with him was the most complicated because of their history, but that didn’t mean she liked him any better than anyone else did. Colleen was grateful to Mark. She always would be. But he wasn’t easy to deal with on any level.

  “He’s such a pain in the ass,” Jonas said, clearly agitated.

  Mark’s office door opened. “I heard that. I should fire you.”

  Jonas slowly, slowly, slowly raised his middle finger. Patty let out a muffled giggle. Mark slammed the door.

  “He can’t fire me, ever,” Jonas said. “I added it to my contract, and he signed it, that crazy jackoff.”

  It was not the best of office environments, but then it was also never boring.

  Back in her office, Colleen quickly checked her appointment calendar, made a few calls to rearrange some things due to the “weather-related office closing” and shut down her computer. Getting out of work unexpectedly early was the equivalent of a snow day in elementary school, and she intended to make the most of it.

  She’d been to the market earlier in the week, but made another trip now to stock up on milk, bread, eggs, toilet paper and chocolate, the staples for any snow day. She added some tortilla chips and salsa, a few gossip magazines and, on impulse, a bottle of bath oil some clever stock person had featured near the romance novels and a display of funky battery-lit candles with lights that flickered. She bought some of those, too.

  It was lucky Mark had let them go early, because by the time she’d finished her shopping, the store had been nearly emptied of the same kinds of things she was buying. Two women almost got in a fistfight over toilet paper. And outside, the first white, fluffy flakes had begun falling.

  In the ten-minute drive back to her apartment, the snow had become thick enough to make it hard for her to see, even with the windshield wipers going nonstop. Colleen pulled into her parking spot, not looking forward to having to dig herself out and do the parking-space shuffle. Last year, two of her neighbors had nearly come to blows over a space. Life in the city, she thought,
remembering the heated driveway and three-car garage she’d given up when she left Steve.

  Even if she had to shovel herself out from under three feet of snow and defend her spot in hand-to-hand combat, it was worth it.

  The snow had made darkness fall even earlier than usual for January, and by three-thirty Colleen had turned on all the lights in her living room. She’d started a Crock-Pot of chili simmering for tomorrow, with some baked mac ‘n’ cheese for tonight’s dinner. Comfort food, perfect for winter weather. She’d put on some soft music and pulled out a book to read, wondering if it was too early to get in the bath. If she waited a while longer, she could go to sleep right after. She could watch a movie in bed. She could stay up late playing games on her phone. She could eat whatever she wanted, sleep however she wanted, wear whatever she wanted.

  Do whatever she wanted.

  And as always, even four years later, this freedom sent her spinning in dizzy, delightful circles in her living room until everything slipped sideways and she had to sit down, hard, to keep herself from falling.

  Colleen clapped her hands to her face to hold back the laughing sobs that tore at her throat and made her stomach sick. Nothing came without a price, especially freedom. She could do what she wanted because she’d sacrificed a lot to have it.

  It was still Thursday, but the weather outside made anything but an emergency too much to deal with. And it wasn’t an emergency, was it? To sit at the bar and order that drink the way she did every week? Nothing bad would happen if she didn’t do it. And maybe, Colleen told herself, it was time to stop going at all.

  And then her phone rang.

  Chapter Three

  “When I was a kid, you had to listen to the radio station at five in the morning to figure out if school was canceled.” Jesse held his phone up to John’s bored face. “Now they text you the night before. So, hey, at least I don’t have to get up early.”

  John tossed a towel over one shoulder and leaned over the bar to look out the front windows as best he could. “We should close early. Nobody’s gonna come out in this mess, and anyone who’s here should be getting home, anyway. Hell, I want to get home. It’s nasty out there.”