“Shawn, I’ve been thinking.”
He’d been headed home, paycheck pocketed, when Juliet’s voice stopped him dead. He turned quickly, eyebrows raised, and found her standing behind her desk.
“You shouldn’t get a car.”
He blinked, wondering if she’d spent the week--their first week--reconsidering them--this.
“I just mean that you shouldn’t get one because--” She paused, crouching behind her desk.
His smile bloomed as soon as she resurfaced with a baby blue motorcycle helmet in her hands.
“I got it this morning.” She matched his smile. “How ‘bout a ride?”
With a flourish, he bowed. “Your chariot awaits.”