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“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.”

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